#charlatron

Well this is a ship I didn’t know I needed. 🚢

Ohh, thank you for the question, lovely!

This fic is still at the vague idea stage. It’s going to be a fenders fic.

Anders gets captured by qunari and is trained and conditioned as a Saarebas. When he is freed, he has lost all sense of his former self. Hawke and crew already know what happens to a saarebas who has no Arvaarad to give him orders (setting himself on fire). Hawke considers Fenris to be the best to work on un-conditioning Anders, with his knowledge of what kind of a mindset a slave has.

I have tried out a few beginnings, to find the right tone and I have not yet decided how positive it will end. Either Fenris breaks the conditioning and Anders finds his own will again. Or it’s impossible to come back from that and you replace the handler with a kinder person. I’m kind of leaning towards the latter.

I have nothing to present yet, except for this image:

25: Anything they do after sex?

She almost always wants to cuddle for a couple minutes and then get a snack. The kitchen is raided often by a half naked dwarf with no shame in the middle of the night.

30. Do they watch porn/read dirty magazines?

She is VERY fond of the Randy Dowager much to Varric’s frustration. She makes him read it to her a lot and he does it, but complains the whole time. She's less fond of Varric’s own erotica unless it stars her.

It sometimes does.

BONUS ART FROM @schoute OF VARRIC READING HER THE RANDY DOWAGER.

👀 we're all looking respectfully at that chest hair, right?

Thanks so much for the prompt.  I absolutely love this one for them, and ended up knocking some words out of my head and onto the page for this one.  ;D

_________

Warm breath pours across her neck as she blinks open her eyes,  and squints through a drowsy blur at the streaks of sunlight that filter in past lazily closed curtains.  The bright warm glow teases of much warmer weather than the current winter Liss knows it to be outside.  There’s a tugging and rustling of shared blankets behind her, and a lean, muscular arm snakes its way under her arm and across her belly.  A smile quirks up at the corners of her still sleepy lips, and she rolls over to face the man with whom she shares her bed. 

Nate’s eyes are closed, thick, dark, lashes fanned out across his porcelain cheeks.  It’s unfair, she thinks, that the Maker would bless a man with such beautiful, delicate features and not allow him the ability to appreciate them.  She resolves to appreciate his looks enough for the both of them. 

If she’s honest with herself, Liss still struggles with the reality of their relationship.  After so many years spent apart, she often wakes up next to him and wonders if he’s not some sort of elaborate construction of her desperate imagination.  He smiles and lets out a low chuckle under her scrutiny before slowly opening his eyes, piercing steel peering back at her. 

“Liss,” he hums, voice raspy with sleep, “I’m real.” 

She lifts a hand from beneath the covers, placing it atop the wispy dark hair on his chest, testing his warmth and solidity for herself. “I know, it’s just--”

Before she can finish her excuse, his hand is on her chin, gently tilting her head up and he’s pressing his lips to hers.  No more than a drowsy brush, it hitches her breath and ignites a warmth in her chest. 

“Good morning, my love,” he whispers against her cheek and draws her into his arms.  

She often questions if her feelings for Nate are stronger than his feelings for her, wonders how long her quiet, taciturn childhood-friend-turned-lover will tolerate constant desire to be near him, to touch and to talk. It’s in these uninhibited, half-conscious moments, when he’s the one who seeks her affection, who reaches for and clings to her before he’s even properly awake, that she’s reminded how silly she is for having doubts.  

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? 

Jowan and Rylee are the only people who know this about her because it's a sentimental fact she keeps really close to her heart, but she really loves the part of spring when flowers start to bloom.

She despises summer. Kirkwall summers are hot and wet, and her hair absolutely refuses to behave under those conditions.

I don’t know if she’d be screwed, but people would finally realize that Eli’s facial expressions don’t necessarily match her thoughts...