Tell him, king!

Kiana Khansmith
sheepfilms
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

oozey mess
hello vonnie

izzy's playlists!
One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH

@theartofmadeline
almost home
Cosimo Galluzzi
AnasAbdin
Peter Solarz

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell

#extradirty

Kaledo Art
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@average-mako-enjoyer
Tell him, king!
just a mage who loves cats
Anders does not approve of the Blooming Rose.
#undesperate me
Lady Vivienne
Taint Brigade is sending me
alistair being king but hating you at the end of da:o is wild when you get to the courtyard scene in awakening it's just like. we used to be friends. all the blood we shed together was invalidated in a monumental act of betrayal. we're both performing the camaraderie that used to be real for this audience. are we also performing it for ourselves. do you miss me.
the thing i love about the hawke family is that it's entirely a reflection of hawke. hawke is shaped by the family, in the sense that all people are shaped by where and how they grow up, and the family is shaped by hawke in turn, because you create the family by your choices.
carver is your surviving sibling because you chose to be a mage, but carver is also carver because his siblings were both mages. i'm not here to tell anyone what to think, if you think carver would have been the same person regardless, that's totally fine, but i think the carver who grew up with an "ally", a non-mage sibling who was like him is a fundamentally different person than the carver who grew up having to protect two mages.
similarly, the bethany who grew up with self-loathing isolation... i think that's a different person than a bethany who grew up with a mage sibling, particularly if that sibling felt differently about their magic. that's a bethany who couldn't blame only herself for the family's situation, who wasn't always the odd one out, the one with the biggest and worst secret.
i love that the narrative bends around hawke, creates an arc where the defining feature of the surviving sibling is isolation. loneliness.
malcolm is the ghost in the machine the haunting at the center of the narrative, yes, but he is also shaped in your image. hawke is canonically like malcolm, which means that malcolm is canonically like hawke. leandra, who loved him, who gave up everything for him, then changes too, maybe more subtly. but who hawke is has to reflect on who leandra is, because leandra becomes the type of person who would anchor her life around a person like hawke.
i am still on my awakening kick thinking about designated party healer anders dragonage. thank you for your time.
A random Chasind!Hawke appears.
chasind
Father never spoke of meeting her, but it was in his eyes when he blinked and whenever he stared into the fire. Her touch formed the shadows on his face.
‘We all have shadows that don’t belong to us,’ Father said. ‘Wear them like furs, and someone might even think you know what you’re doing.’
*
Hawke found her by a tree a week after Father died. ‘Well, well,’ she said. ‘What have we here?’
‘It’s so good to finally meet you,’ Hawke told her, heart rabbiting in his chest, though he stood his ground. For Father, he supposed. For himself. The heels of his boots sunk into the muddied marsh. ‘I’ve heard so much—and know so little.’
‘You look just like him,’ she replied, the tip of her thumbnail sharp against the bridge of his nose. ‘The spitting image—save, of course, for this stupid choice in painting your face.’
If she pulled one of his braids next, Hawke thought, he might begin to suspect she liked him.
In the same way an owl liked a mouse. Loved it, even.
*
His spells quickened. His dreams deepened. He heard wings when he closed his eyes, or when he drew fish in off the line, crude hooks rasping at their gills. He turned to discover there was nothing over his shoulder, just his breath painting the cold. Lingering and fading were one and the same.
He took off his robes. Plunged, naked, into the murky stream. If she was watching, he might as well give her a good show.
*
It was her hand that guided him that afternoon, her shadows that he wore. The wolfling gave him a fine chase, but by the time he broke through the fall of weeping branches, it was long gone—as though it’d never deigned to be chased at all.
Still, Hawke didn’t come up completely empty-handed that day.
There was a human in the clearing. Feathers on his shoulders, not fur. He slept—fitfully—and in his sleep he murmured this: ‘I didn’t do it.’
Hawke rested his staff against the inside of his thigh and waited. The stranger had a staff of his own, and hair as tangled as brambles, and marks on his wrists that spoke of shackles.
At last, his eyelashes fluttered over his cheeks.
‘Well, well,’ Hawke said. ‘What have we here?’
*
‘I might be with the Chasind,’ the stranger said that night, ‘but if you think I’m chastened by it, think again!’
Hawke only wished he had a braid to pull.
the Hawke family couldn’t be more fitting for this meme
Morrigan’s childhood
I'm going to upload here some of my older art from my old accounts. I'll try to not spam so hard.
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Did I mention I love anders?
Reminding the people who matters the most… Javik, obviously. Happy pride folks!
Well... THEM