private & selective CARVER HAWKE of Dragon Age 2. as loved by: Griff. EST 2013
An analysis of: the petulant child, too knowing and too stubborn. The brash boy ground to dust and forced to strive---to thrive. The perpetual toll of loss, grief, and the man it can build in its stead. An exploration of ever-present struggle and perseverance despite it all. A lament to those strong-willed, strong-minded, and obstinate little brothers who never falter. | CARRD | Mobile Rules Below
01.ย This is a private, highly selective, role-play blog for Carver Hawke of Dragon Age 2. I have been writing Carver for the better part of ten years. I do not participate in exclusives and do not mind duplicate characters. I can not stress this enough; I do not care about your drama. I do not participate in callouts, and I do not blindly agree with DNI lists unless serious and egregious circumstances have come to light with considerable evidence. I do not participate in petty drama, and I do not care to hear about it.
02.ย As mentioned, I have been writing Carver for a long time. Much of my headcanons and verses are non-canonical. While I can appreciate the typical joke at his (rather obnoxious) characterization in the games, please do not debase my writing to snide in-character comments and excessive younger-brother tropes. It honestly gives me the ick. In that same vein, I love all Hawkes. I will not write with every single Hawke---I tried to do it before and found it exhausting.I love to ship! I love to ship in that I enjoy fleshed-out relationships with a beginning, middle, and end as well as the interplay of nuance and context. A few funny moments of wanting kisses or flirting are fine, I donโt blame ya! But please understand I am slow to ship and prefer a well-thought-out narrative.
I am not quick to follow multi-muse blogs.At this moment, the easiest way to interact with me is via ask memes. I never mind if they turn into threads, or if you send in an old one from my tag--just indicate which meme it is, please!I do enjoy cross-overs and Aus---I am not bound to writing just Dragon Age-related content.
03.ย Consider this an adult pace. There will be themes present of a sexual or violent nature. Everything will be tagged appropriately, and there will never be mentions or writing of overt sexual violence on this blog. However, there may be present depictions of gore, death, addiction, and more. As stated, it will be tagged. If you have a specific trigger, outside of these scopes, that occurs commonly on this blog, please feel free to let me know and I will tag it accordingly.
I don't block often.I do not unfollow often either. However, if you unfollow me please hard block so i don't follow again and make everyone uncomfortable.Please keep in mind i approach writing and this blog specifically with the mindset that none of these characters are real and i am here to have fun. it is never that serious.
MUN
Hi! I'm Griff (they/them) and I am 30! I am a political science major with a minor in history at Penn State and a historian. I currently work full time, and when I'm not doing that I am tending to my garden and buying more books than I need to.
"I hate him sometimes." It would seem the ale had taken hold of the Commander's tongue. They lounge in his office, it one could call it that; what with crumbling stone and a draft that sent parchment sailing across the room when a good gust slithered between the crests of the mountains around them. Hawke had arrived at Skyhold some hours before, and their first conversation had been---lackluster. At least on his part. Carver scolded himself in the hour since that terse and tense bout of---whatever it was. A talk, an argument?
Did it matter?
Not really, he realized shortly after that he had used it as an excuse to unload. and perhaps on the one person who, in this moment, deserved narry a moment of it. So, he invited his sister to a drink. Not in the tavern---Maker no. Not with such prying eyes and loose lips about. No, his office would do fine, and the alcohol he had lifted during a late night raid on the cellars the week prior, would do them far better.
"Father." Carver supplements only after a long stretch of silence, wherein he realizes he hadn't given Hawke a clue as to WHO. But, then again, it wasn't hard to take a guess. "Mostly because he made it so bloody hard to hate him."
That's new, he thinks as the words tumble from his lips. "Never seemed to care but when he did...he did." Is he even making sense? Surely he had not drunk that much and yet...the Commander can not remember having had a dinner. Blue hues flicker high to finally look his sister in the face, and his jaw sets---not with anger. But frustration at his lack of emotional wherewithal. As though he wants to badly to spew every thought and feeling in this very moment, but they number one too many and..... and the metaphorical drain is clogged.
Carver groans, huffs even like an indignant child, and sets his cup down before lifting his booted feet to rest on his desk. Correspondences be damned. "Suppose it matters little now.'
Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you.
meme | accepting | @saintsdawn
--- Shame burns bright against the pale, freckled skin of his cheeks. Carver is not well acquainted with defeat. He has never considered it a friend, only an enemy. His father used to say, in between instruction on footwork and balance, that a warrior's greatest ally was defeat. It taught him things, and in the best way --- through shame. However, Carver considered defeat the enemy; too many perished under its heavy boot.
He did not want to be one of them.
So when they approach and offer aid in cleaning his wounds and wrapping his bruises, Carver jerks away with a rather undignified huff. The sort of action expected in a child pissy with having had his fun trampled on. An uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of them, and it is not until that one word echoes in his ears does Carver turn their way.
BRAVE. Another word his father has spoken at length about --- another word for stubborn. "Very well." his voice is strangled and wrapped so tightly in a plethora of emotion that it barely passes as a whisper. And yet....Carver surrenders himself to them, leaning his massive weight forward, arm drooping uncharacteristically low at the shoulder. "I think it's dislocated."
โฆ โ ๐ค โ โฆ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ยทยทยท a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.
โข You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine.
โข How long have you been walking around like this?
โข I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is.
โข You should have told me the moment it happened.
โข Hold still. I mean it. Hold still.
โข This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to.
โข You've been hiding this for days, haven't you.
โข Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this.
โข Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you.
โข I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it.
โข I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that?
โข Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me.
โข Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign.
โข I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference.
โข Come into the light. Let me see your face.
โข You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can.
โข You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight.
โข I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now.
โข Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me.
โข It's not weak to let someone see you hurt.
โข You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here.ย
โข Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face.
โข I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can.
โข You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice?
โข This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
โข I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now.
โข You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know.
โข Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere.
โข You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching.
โข I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me.
โข You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper.ย
โข Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now.
โข I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you.
โข Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me.
โข You're going to be alright. I promise you.ย
โข You went back out there after this? With this?
โข Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight.
โข I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return.
โข You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.
private & selective CARVER HAWKE of Dragon Age 2. est. 2013 - as loved by: Griff
An analysis of: the petulant child, too knowing and too stubborn. The brash boy ground to dust and forced to strive---to thrive. The perpetual toll of loss, grief, and the man it can build in its stead. An exploration of ever-present struggle and perseverance despite it all.
A lament to those strong-willed, strong-minded, and obstinate little brothers who never falter.
โ really ? out of everything youโve heard, not once has it been that ? โ thereโs work to be done, and places to go. somewhere waits harding, but florence finds it difficult ( momentarily, without the scalding stare ) to care. โ am i the first ? well then, congrats to me ! โ
ridiculous, but it feels as if itโs been ages since theyโve been allowed to act like a fool.
โ you are very welcome, โ they chirp. โ i am glad to have made the inquisitorโs day. i hope it carries into the next. โ
A shrug falls from wide shoulders, and he exhales rather comically. "Aye. Annoying. Stubborn. Surly." Carver flashes another wide grin. "To name a few."
He senses they may want an escape from the conversation, but then again, this seems to be the longest chat they have had to date----if one does not account for their scolding of his odd leadership and battle tactics. (Throwing himself headfirst into battle.)
"Like what?" his head cocks ever so slightly to one side, and while he grins that mischievous grin of his, his eyes remain locked with her own. Behind them, something glimmers and shifts, an emotion wrought from the very center of his chest. Something real, heavy, and if he were being entirely honest with himself, terrifying.
"Would that be so bad?" A rough and calloused palm catches the point of her chin before smoothing around the curve of her cheek. "To think about me? To want me?" his thumb traverses the supple skin of her bottom lip.
๐ป๐ฏ๐ฌ๐น๐ฌ'๐บ ๐ต๐ถ ๐พ๐จ๐ ๐ป๐ถ ๐จ๐ฝ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ซ ๐ป๐ฏ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ when he touches her, but she does not pull away. Were it anyone else, Ruby would recoil completely, stiff and guarded, but she lets herself be held, lets him touch her lip of all things. The intimacy of the gesture frightens her, but something tells her that if she runs away now, it would break something tenuous and precious. An ache grows in Ruby's chest, pulling on heartstrings she didn't know she had.
"It's not that simple," she answers, because nothing ever is. Ruby doesn't know how to take the weight of the world from her shoulders, "What I want ..." She finds the weight behind his gaze, feels something soften within her. What she wanted had always been simplicity, a life away from prying eyes in which to raise Jane. Anything more than that ... she didn't know. She didn't know. "Carver." Her voice breaks on his name, the first time she'd used it in months, if not longer. It was easier to use titles, relying on formalities to keep the world at arm's length. To keep herself safe.
๐ต๐ธ๐ป๐ผ๐ฉ๐ ๐ป๐ธ๐ ๐ธ๐ด๐ธ๐ฎ ๐ฎ๐ฒ๐ผ๐๐ฎ a myriad of emotions, and he understands them all to be conflicting in one way or another. Carver had never meant for this to be the result of his affections---but then, perhaps he had not seriously considered or even seriously misunderstood her own feelings. It troubles him, casts a deep frown on his freckle-dusted face, and prompts from the pits of his stomach a heavy sigh. It is the sadness that accompanies his name as it parts her lips, and in that moment, Carver feels his own chest ache. What has he done? How could he be so careless?
"You're right." Hands drop, and the Commander deflates as though he were a balloon with a hole. His frame sags against her own a bit, and his head droops to rest against her shoulder. "This station traps you, threatens you, and you must stay guarded." Arms, thick with corded muscle, loop around her waist gently, loosely ---so that she may pull away at ease. "You must protect yourself and Jane, even from me." A pause, and Carver lifts his head to press his lips to her forehead. "I will not press the issue further---" & the Commander backs away now, lips flickering into sad sort of smile. "But I will not stop loving you. Either of you."
โ very pretty ? โ to tease, or not to tease? itโs a difficult decision. โ if i had just returned from scouting, i would have called you a liar. thankfully, i have yet to set foot into the wilds. โ
is it bold of her? absolutely, but there is little shame as she studies his face. โ you know, i happen to think you are quite handsome. โ
He laughs, and easy and rather confident thing. "Fair enough."
Carver's head tilts, surprise swimming in his eyes before flickering to something else entirely---shyness perhaps? "Been called quite a few things, I don't think quite handsome has made the list yet." he grins, all teeth. "Thank you."
Hands, calloused, scarred, and massive, hold Leon's face with a firm, yet gentle hand. A curious thing, for someone his size, to be able to move with fluidity and grace---he always attributed it to his training with his father. The man somehow knew Carver would be a behemoth, and yet still strove to instill in him the gliding movements of a mage. Such a thing comes in handy now while he angles the blade just to, flicking his wrist this way and that way against the crest of Leon's cheek.
"I'd have told you to shut it, but I know that is an impossibility for you." Carver's grin is lopsided, and any sort of annoyance that seeps onto his tongue is in jest. He's only nicked the man's face once, and it was entirely of his own fault.
"Aye, it's keeping me from taking the blade to your throat now HUSH a moment will you--" he leans down, towering over Leon for a moment while blue hues narrow and fingers move with nimble precision, while the cool blade makes quick work of the hair at Leon's throat.
