The Fool's Den
I don't even post original stuff. I just spam pretty things. Leave while you have the chance. No seriously. Why are you still here.

i woke up this morning to find a creature from the underworld laying in the crevice of my collar bone.

my dad was walking around in his underwear, stopped next to my desk, stuck his hand in his underwear, and started to scratch his butt.






friendly reminder that turning Fenris over to Danarius breaks his spirit so badly that he surrenders without a fight. ✿◕‿◕✿ 

The worst part about this is he always says he would rather die than go back to slavery/Danarius but he would still rather go back to Danarius than fight you ◡‿◡✿

“If you want him, he’s yours.”

The air went cold.  It was as if his heart had stopped.  His lungs refused to breathe.  If they did, it would mean time was continuing, the world had not stopped—that she had really said those words.

“What?!”  Was that his voice?  Fenris turned, barely aware of what his body was doing, of the words coming out of his mouth.  Who was this woman standing next to him?  It couldn’t be Hawke.  He knew Hawke.

But he did not know this woman.

There were some murmurings from their companions, but the white noise in Fenris’s mind blocked them out.  Only the voice of Danarius was able to cut through:

“Interesting.  I’ll make it worth your while, of course.  The power of the Imperium would be at your disposal.”

The red cloth wrapped around Fenris’s wrist seemed to burn through his armor, scorching his skin more fiercely than his lyrium markings ever had.

“Don’t do this, Hawke,” said a voice.  Fenris felt like he was outside his body, staring down, screaming, even though his voice was quiet, pleading.   “I need you.”

The woman’s beautiful face turned to face Fenris.  But it was empty.  The eyes were hollow.  The mouth held no softness.  It was a mask, blank, as cold as the ashes of an abandoned fire.

He wondered if there had ever been anything there.

“You’re on your own, Fenris.”

Fenris’s body stilled.  The words fell on him like deadweight, dragging down every part of his body, the world swallowing up to meet him as he fell.  His sword had never felt so heavy at his side, and he knew he would never have the strength to draw it.

No, there was nothing there, no comfort or hatred or love or spite in her face… and he’d been a fool to ever think there had been.

“I suppose I should not be surprised,” he murmured, though he had not meant to say it out loud.

“What shall it be, Fenris?” came the snide question from Danarius behind him.  ”Will you throw your life away?”

Fenris stared at the woman who had stood beside him for six years now.  She was Hawke.  He knew that now.  Yes.  There was no mask.  What he thought he had seen… and what he saw now… it was all Hawke.  This was Hawke.  This was Hawke.  This is Hawke.

And from somewhere inside him there was a wailing that would not be quieted.

This is Hawke.

And he loved her still.

“…No.”  His voice was so low it might have been merely a sigh.  He turned away from the woman who simply stared on, unmoving, to face his old master.  ”I will go with you.”  And the wailing inside him turned to screaming, and the only image he saw was the face of Hawke, though he no longer stood with her, even while the screaming drowned out the bitter world around him…