This is my place to hang my DA II Fandom hat, either by reblogging my love for Fenris & Anders or passing on fics or amazing art.
Logo art by Jakface and msbarrows., from my request for Fenris in a suit.
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Chapter 11 Summary:
A Despair demon stops by for a snack, Fenris and Anders have a serious talk about things, after a close encounter of the Tranquil kind for Fenris.
Chapter 12 Summary:
Making up is fun, but exhausting. Demons everywhere, well in one place in particular. Vic does the thing, even after he’s told not to.
Chapter 13 Summary:
In Invictus’ Kirkwall Fenris owes Anders a life debt; on the other side of reality Arden and Fenris walk into a trap, Varric’s rooms get remodelled - and Anders redecorates the bedroom back home. Blood red is so the in colour this season in Kirkwall; soon all the most fashionable places will be wearing it….
Is going to romance Merrill, lets see whay happens. :|
you know what i think about a lot
anders with wet hair from his first free thunderstorm
isabela with salt-encrusted lips and eyelashes
fenris with danarius’ blood under his nails (and refusing to wash it clean)
carver with bruises all over his face from defending his sister’s honor (asked for or not)
aveline with a needle, stitching hawke’s wounds
merrill with burrs and leaves tangled in her hair
sebastian with callused fingers from the bowstring
and varric with a brand new quill, cutting the nib, settling in over a pint and christening a new, blank journal
This is hawkeward’s fault. We were chatting after I read that ficlet her poet-non wrote her and I mentioned a need for fluff. She mentioned kittens + Fenris; bonus Fenris going to Anders for help and him trying not to laugh. This is the result, so have some fluffy fic. Also Fenders if you squint, stand on your head and blink.
The Care and Handling of Furballs
Fandom: Dragon Age
Summary: Fenris finds kittens in his wine cellar and goes to Anders for help. Hijinks ensue.
Notes: I blame hawkeward for this
The mansion was not the best place he’d ever lived, but even Fenris would not put up with rats in the cellar and his bedroom, nor the larder. Luckily for him, a few cats that had escaped being stew in darktown had found their way into the mansion.
Unluckily for him, they had kittens. The elf wasn’t gentle, well not where others could see him and he certainly had no idea how to care for the tiny puffs of fur that he found milling around when he came through the basement after a late night in the hanged man.
“Stop that racket you…fuzzy thing.” he snarled at the grey and white kitten that had decided he was a good substitute for its mother. The wee cat sat in front of him and mewed until he bent down to poke at it with a gauntlet covered finger.
“What is it?” he said before he seemed to realize he had spoken to the cat as if it could understand him and reply.
Undaunted it used it’s tiny sharp claws to climb his leg until it was plucked off and held up by the scruff of it’s neck.
"Varric, what is ‘hate sex’?" Merrill asked, enuncating slowly. Varric opened his eyes to peer at Merrill where she lay on his broad chest, reading a poorly bound book. He pulled the book down with one finger, a brow raised at her.
"What in the world are you reading, Daisy?"
Merrill shifted, her slight weight barely registering, though the warm pressure of her leaning her lower body against his thigh was distracting.
"One of Isabela’s books," she said, lifting it up again as he let it go. Varric ran a big hand down her side, cupping her bare ass and pushing her a little closer to the thigh she was straddling. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed. "It’s dirty, and you’re not going to tell me, are you?"
"It’s when two people who don’t like one another very much have dirty, angry sex." Varric patted her back. "Authors—well, authors who aren’t any good, use it when they’ve built up tension between two characters and think their audience wants a cheap thrill rather than character development."
"Oh. Well that doesn’t sound like very much fun. I’d much rather read about the kind of sex we have." Merrill smiled, setting the book to the side and folding her arms on Varric’s bare chest, resting her head on them. "Why don’t you write about us?"
"Oh no, Daisy. I’m the author. No self-inserting in my books."
"You write about yourself all the time when you write about Hawke!"
"Because I’m the narrator." Varric ruffled her hair lightly, brushing it out of her eyes with a tender hand. "But the story’s about Hawke."
"I don’t know. I think your readers might be interested." Merrill scooted forward to kiss his nose. Varric chuckled.
"Maybe they would, but there are some things I just don’t want to share." He wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and smiled.
"You’d write it well."
"I’m sure I would."
"It’d be better than Isabela’s book," Merrill said with a little pout, her wide eyes growing larger as she silently pleaded.
"How about I just tell you instead of writing it down?" Varric put his finger against her lips as she started to protest. "In all the detail you could possibly want."
"Ooh, alright. You win. But it has to be a long story, and a good one too."
"Isn’t it always?" he asked, and Merrill laughed, hugging his broad shoulders as he eased her onto her back.
SUPER CUTE OMG
New Merrill complained that the trees didn’t smell like trees so we took her to the Conservatory.
Isabela’s only interest was in going to the bar.
Hawke & Varric herded the children through their day out.