my mum’s just had a mysterious attack of pain and sweating and her heart rate instead of spiking has dipped dangerously low. the pain has ended and she’s otherwise stable, but it’s stumped the medic and she’s off to the hospital. PLEASE PRAY FOR HER AND MY FAMILY!
The fire has burnt low, down to its embers, its glow turning the lines of lyrium into flickering pale gold as Fenris holds his hands over its dying warmth. He shivers. It’s freezing this deep underground, and the markings feel like ice burrowed under his skin. Though to be fair, he can’t exactly expect an ancient prison filled with hordes of Darkspawn and Taint-crazed Carta dwarves to offer the most comfortable of accommodations. The dirty and damp corner in which they’ve set up camp was clearly once a prison cell, and sitting here makes Fenris’s skin crawl. He won’t risk leaving the others unguarded in order to search for more fuel for the fire.
He hates it here, in the cold, in the dark, in the Deep Roads. He hates feeling trapped. He hates the Carta who lured Hawke here. He hates whoever this Corypheus is who desires Hawke’s for whatever malevolent purpose. He hates this unspoken tension between him and Hawke.
And Hawke won’t stop staring at the vibrant red silk around Fenris’s wrist.
As Fenris is shivering again, a blanket is draped around his shoulders, and Hawke drops unceremoniously to the ground beside him.
“I can keep watch for a bit,” suggests Hawke with a shrug too nonchalant to be believed. “Give you a chance to get more sleep.”
Fenris shakes his head, keeping his gaze pinned to their tiny, nearly dead campfire. He doesn’t dare glance at the man beside him, the man who can completely disarm him with one smile. The man who stripped him bare of all his defenses and worshipped every inch of him. The man who pleaded with him not to leave. The man who makes his broken heart ache with a yearning for something he cannot have.
“I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you,” murmurs Fenris, keeping his voice low so as not to awaken Varric and Sebastian. He wraps Hawke’s still warm blanket more closely around himself and breathes in Hawke’s scent, that perfect aroma of warm sandalwood and cinnamon which feels so grounding to Fenris.
“I can’t sleep either,” Hawke admits with an understanding nod. He tries sitting as comfortably as possible on the cold, hard, disgusting stone.
They sit stiffly side-by-side in silence for a while, Fenris unable to look at Hawke, though he can feel Hawke’s piercing golden-brown eyes on his wrist – or more accurately, on Hawke’s favor tied around his wrist. Fenris knows the question that’s coming, and he braces physically for the impact like an oncoming slap.
“Fenris,” Hawke begins, his voice tender and far too gentle, and it cuts at Fenris’s heart because he doesn’t deserve to be spoken to with such affection.
“Please don’t ask me about that,” Fenris cuts him off. Hawke moves closer to him, but Fenris flinches away from his touch, and Hawke’s hand falls away as if burned.
“I don’t understand,” says Hawke, and Fenris hates the plea in his voices, hates that Hawke is begging him. “Is it Sebastian?” asks Hawke, gesturing to the slumbering priest. “You two have become rather close as of late.”
Green eyes wide in surprise, Fenris turns to his former lover at last. “No,” he replies firmly. “I want you. Only you. There could never be anyone else.”
“Then why? I want you too. I love–”
“Wanting you doesn’t change what’s broken in me,” says Fenris bitterly, interrupting Hawke again before this wonderful and infuriating man goes too far. “Everything I feel for you does not and cannot change what I am and what’s wrong with me. Wanting you doesn’t make me a whole person, Garrett, and you deserve to be with a whole person, not someone like me who cannot be un-hurt.”
Hawke’s jaw is clenched, but Fenris is aware that Hawke’s anger is not directed at him. He turns away again, back toward the fire just in time to witness the tiny flame nearly die out but then sputter back to life stubbornly. Fenris doesn’t have to look back at Hawke to know his golden eyes are soft and warm with the love that Fenris does not deserve and cannot accept.
“I don’t want to lose you,” murmurs Hawke at last after another long moment of silence.
“I am not yours,” Fenris says, “but my sword and my friendship are at your disposal, whenever you need.”
The light of the fire flickers out, plunging their camp into darkness, and Fenris is starting to tense as Hawke says, “There’s no one I’d rather have at my side than you, Fen, in whatever way you choose.”
The fire has burned low. Only
embers remain, the ghost of warmth. The room is dark, full of shadow, and she
lies on her side, back to the door. Defenseless. Such an easy thing to kneel
upon the bed, press a blade to the soft flesh of her neck. “My Warden,” he
says, “If I were any other, I could have killed you.” Her eyes open instantly,
and she smiles into the pillow. She rolls over onto her back, looking up at
him. She wraps her fingers around the metal.
“You won’t be killing much with
such a dull blade,” she says. She shifts, pushes herself up. One hand pressed
into the mattress, the other reaching for his face. Her hands trace the edges
of the tattoo upon his face. She tucks hair behind pointed tips, follows the
shell of his ear. She lands upon his cheek once again, and she smiles as he
closes his eyes, leans into her touch. The dagger is cast aside as he leans
forward, presses his forehead against hers.
“You should have it sharpened
before we march to Denerim,” she says and he chuckles under his breath as his
“I have plenty other sharp
things, fear not,” Zevran tells her. “I will keep you well protected.” She
wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him back into the bed with her. They lie
on their sides, facing each other, wrapped as closely as possible. Legs entwine
with legs, his hand drifts from shoulder to hip, keeping a tight hold on her.
“I knew you would come tonight,”
“Waiting for me, were you?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“I am going to kiss you now, mi
amore,” he says, not waiting for her permission, and he swiftly follows through
on his promise. A hand cradling the back of her neck, shifting to stretch
himself on top of her. His hand slips from knee to thigh as he settles himself
between her legs. He braces himself on the bed with an arm, careful to keep
most of his weight from her. Her hand threads through his hair, keeps him
close. Her mouth opens to his, and his tongue is wet and warm in her mouth. His
hand is still drifting upon her thigh, pushing up the loose nightgown she
They take their time with it, a
slow thing full of gentle touches and soft whispers. He stays close to her, her
breath hot upon his ear. He treasures each low moan, small gasp. Her hands fist
in his shirt, flatten against his back, struggle to find a position that suits.
They flutter and shift, moving down his spine, bracing against his thigh, back
to wrap themselves around his neck. “My Warden, my lovely Warden,” he murmurs,
bares teeth against her neck, kisses the mark he has left.
“Please,” she groans, “don’t
“I am here,” he assures her,
finding her lips with his once again.
There is no time for such things
the next night. The next night they stand before a burning city, a horde of
darkspawn, an archdemon that screams to the stars. His hand reaches for hers,
holding tight. He raises her knuckles to his lips. “I am here,” he tells her. “I
Prompt for DWC: "You know damn well why things are the way they are" for a pairing of your choice [maybe Krem x Inquisitor?]
So @tel-abelas-mofo asked for this one too but didn’t specify a pairing, so here we are.
When Krem wakes, the fire has burned low in the hearth, and the embers are barely giving enough light for Krem to see by. He rolls onto his side and reaches out nearly blindly for Nis. The tiny elf is curled into a ball in the center of the bed, having rolled away from him as they slept.
He runs his fingers down her bare arm, tracing the dips in her lithe muscles, evident even as she falls asleep, and he can’t keep the smile off of his face as he scoots closer.
She shifts and grumbles something he can’t understand, something in elven, and he presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder. His hand slides from her arm to her stomach, fingers spread below her navel, and he pulls her against his body.
Her dark eyes open slowly, blinking into the night before she remembers where she is. She’s not in an aravel, or in her cabin in Haven, or in a tent with Sera somewhere in Orlais. She’s in her room, in her own bed, and, for once, Krem is with her.
With a smile, she rolls and tucks herself against his chest. He wraps his arms around her and presses a kiss to the top of her head. She hums in quiet contentment, nuzzling closer, and quietly voices the only thought clear enough in her head for words.
“I wish we could always be like this.”
Krem sigh in understanding, squeezing her tighter for just a moment. “Me too,” he says, finally, voice quiet.
The tone of resignation under his words sparks a flare of anger in her chest, and her body tenses as she snaps fully awake. “It isn’t fair. I finally found someone that I lo–that I, I want to be with, and we’re always apart. Either I’m off closing rifts or you’re off leading the Chargers, and I just…” Her voice cracks, and Krem makes a soothing noise until she quiets and silently dashes away the tears that spilled from her eyes.
“It’s not fair,” she mutters again, quieter this time but more sullen, and Krem props himself up on one elbow so he can look down at her.
He cups her cheek with his free hand, thumb tracing over the fern-like vallaslin that follows her cheekbone. “It might not be fair, but you know why it has to be like this for now.” His fingers slide across her skin until he can grab her marked hand, pulling it to his face to place a kiss right in the center of her palm. Her frown wavers, just a little, and he keeps trying. “Thedas needs you more than I do right now. As soon as you get Corypheus, you can… maybe, maybe you can become a Charger, travel around with us.” He offers her a little grin at the suggestion, not sure how she’ll react.
It’s this offer, finally, that brings a smile to Nis’ face, and she uses her marked hand to pull his face down to hers for a kiss. He presses his lips lightly against hers until her hand on the back of his head forces him to kiss her again, harder, their lips curving into matching smiles.
He breaks the kiss to place another one on her forehead before pulling her back against his chest.
You don't have to post just sharing cause I found this funny. Me and a friend noticed that lat has been low key with her posts this weekend. Not making it too obvious she's with GG. We both were like "wow maybe she's growing." Then not two minutes ago she makes a insta story showing off her banana bread then does a slow pan to the view outside GG's apartment. I got a good chuckle out of that 😂
She can’t help herself, bless her heart. Clearly going there would be worthless if we didn’t know about it. 🙄
I just started dating a guy who is chubby and has really low self esteem. I find him attractive but he doesn't seem to be receptive of this fact. Do you have any advice on how I can help him see that I am attracted to him?
I think the main things you can do is just constantly remind him that he’s beautiful the way he is and your feelings for him. Speaking from experience with similar issues about body confidence and insecurities, it’s always nice to silence those thoughts with affirmations of affections from your significant other. Not everyday is going to be easy but I’m sure he appreciates it somewhere inside.
I’ve mentioned this before, but I do think that Steed has a low-key death wish during Season 6. Not that he’s going to go out and kill himself, but that he’ll take more risks, face more adversaries alone, be more willing to put himself in immediate danger than before.
May i please ask for 1p and 2p Romano headcannons?
Sure! Sorry for the late reply.
-a tsunyan (tsundere yandere)
-sends mixed signals all the time about what he wants and what his s/o should do
-has low patience so be warned, you can set this man off unintentionally.
-stalks his s/o if he gets worried
-will kidnap his s/o
-is really clingy to his s/o at times and sometimes would rather not me touched.
-a bit of a hot head and gets jealous easily
-if his s/o does anything he would find to be misbehaving he locks them up in a windowless room.
-shoots his vitims, wouldn’t really torture it takes too much time, leaves too much to clean up.
-he doesn’t really torture his s/o is mostly just locking them up and leaving them alone.
-a flamboyant yandere
-doesn’t really lift a finger, he lets his men do ask the work.
-he will however snipe the fuck out of his lesser rivals and stalk you
-doesn’t like to get dirty so he wouldn’t torture in a menial sense
-he might accidentally torture his s/o through fashion and putting tight corsets on them.
-I’m sure he’ll be your friend before trying to kidnap you and keep you to himself
-keeps tabs on his s/o a lot.
-has a good tolerance but don’t push it hun.
-you may think you can sweet talk him but he has ways man. You can’t break out for shit.
-stalks their s/o
-can’t be sweet talked
-guns man, I’m tellin’ you.