#but anyway i never miss an opportunity to defend carver
Text
I said I wasn't going to get started on the topic of Aveline ruining Carver's chances with the guard but I lied okay, it's Carver Hawke defense hours.
Here's the thing; it doesn't matter if you believe Carver was or wasn't fit for the guard. That's a different debate that I'll get to. What matters is Aveline's in no position to tell the guard not to accept his application. Why does she think that's her right to judge whether or not he's fit?
Carver should've had the chance to prove himself one way or another. If it turns out he's not a good fit, then let him fail. Let him learn from it.
"Oh but failure could mean lost lives-"
Aveline doesn't get to talk shit about failure and the people. Plenty have died on her watch yet she still believes she's a good guard and Guard-Captain.
"maybe Aveline's protecting him, Carver could die while on patrol-"
Carver could die working in the Bone Pit, or serving as a templar, or when he's running around with Hawke. Carver could trip and fall down a set of stairs and die. In fact, he can die in the Deep Roads, somewhere he wouldn't have to go if the Hawke's weren't desperate.
Either Carver fails as a guard, or more likely, he succeeds and proves himself worthy of it.
But let's be real, Carver probably kept getting rejected due to being a Fereldan with a past of smuggling/mercenary work and Aveline only reaffirmed the decision, either because they asked her what she thought or she stuck her nose in unprompted.
But what irritates me is that she admits to telling them not to accept his application, and then has the balls to call Carver too proud to take up a trade or find another line of work.
Carver tells her, "And who would take on a Fereldan apprentice? Maybe in another year I could work my way up to pissboy." He has a good point here. Aside from the guard, the only other place Carver could work and use his skillset is with the Templars. Or go back to mercenary/smuggling work.
And Aveline doesn't even have a real answer for him. No suggestions, no encouragement, nothing. Just "Fine, let's crawl down some holes. Good bloody luck for your sake."
Also, if you do the Mark of the Assassin DLC in Act 1-
Aveline: You should see if any of the noblemen are looking for new men-at-arms.
Carver: Are you trying to get rid of me?
Aveline: It's a role with some autonomy. A good fit with your training and... tendencies.
Carver: After serving King Cailan? You want me to suffer some poncy git who needs two servants to wipe his own ass? I'll find my own way, thanks.
Aveline: I wish you would.
You wish he would?? Aveline, he was trying to find his way into the guard, a position he'd make a good fit for, and you helped deny him of it because YOU didn't think he would be good enough, I just-
If I haven't made it clear yet, I firmly believe that Carver would've made a great guard. He wants to help people, to be a protector. He's loyal, and despite what Aveline claims, he can follow orders and take his duty seriously. We see him do incredibly well with the Grey Wardens, after all. If he were a guard, he wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads with Hawke, and I think he would've been okay with that! He's so hurt and bitter when you leave him behind because that effectively tells him, "I don't need you." Carver's spent the whole first act telling you he wants to go on the expedition aka that he wants to be needed.
But if he were a guard, he would be needed elsewhere. He'd be in training as a recruit. He'd look after Leandra while you go. He wouldn't be backed into a corner with no income and only the templars left as his chance at forging his own path and providing for his family.
He doesn't get that opportunity, though.
By the way, if he becomes a warden, you can get this banter:
Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens.
Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do.
Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you.
Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?
Aveline: Well...
This banter makes me want to scream.
Aveline's just... she's so insistent that she's right. She's someone who will double down rather than entertain the idea that she's wrong and it's not just with Carver and the guard, it's with everything. The "my beef with Aveline" list gets longer and longer every time I replay da2, I swear.
Say what you will about Carver, whether you think he would've been a good fit or if Aveline's right and it wasn't for him, he was denied a chance and it cost him so much in the end. He either dies, or he joins the templars where he deals with Chantry's bullshit trying to brainwash him with "mages aren't people" and "magic is a cancer in this world", or he's infected with the blight and becomes a Grey Warden, forced to serve the rest of his life fighting darkspawn, tormented by voices and nightmares.
I will never not be bitter about this.
#dragon age 2#da2#dragon age#carver hawke#aveline vallen#aveline critical#oh and also forever bitter that hawke doesn't have the option to talk to aveline about this#because listen my hawke would be on this#carver would be annoyed and all 'i don't need your help >:[' but that's not gonna stop ed from turning on Big Brother Mode#this is just one of many reasons i can't do the friendship path with aveline#i hate the thought of doing rivalries for all my other companions but i feel like aveline's rivalry route is the only chance to shake her#of her unwarranted over confidence and make her realize that she's not this lawful good 'i stand for all of us' guard captain#she still stands with me in the end but at that point i wouldn't be surprised if she was just doing to because she still feels she owes ed#for getting her outta fereldan and into kirkwall rather than because we're loyal best friends y'know?#she's certainly not doing it for the mage rights#but anyway i never miss an opportunity to defend carver#that's my baby brother and i love him
817 notes
·
View notes
Note
For DWC: cards and letters and stationary
Okay, so I know it isn’t Friday, but I’m not going to be around for DWC tomorrow, and I had an idea for this prompt the second you said it, and I finally wrote it and got too excited to wait. Whoops?
This is slightly canon-divergent for the Merrill romance, because it didn’t feel natural for my Hawke to ask Merrill to move in after that first night. You can read more about these two in Who Tells Your Story, where I will post this at some point.
Pairing: Marian Hawke x Merrill
Rating: Explicit for sexy times (although they are fairly brief)
Summary: Marian wakes up the morning after her first night with Merrill, and grapples with the idea of a new beginning.
When Marian awoke at Merrill’s side it was with a deep, cold dread. Like being at the bottom of a well. She knew what it was like at the bottom of a well because she and Carver and Bethany ended up in one once, although saying they’d “ended up” there made it sound like it wasn’t on purpose, which it was. They climbed down and when Marian looked up to see how far away the top was, and then down to see how small the twins were, she knew there was no way they were getting out on their own. Their father had to levitate them out, in fact, sweating the whole while, their mother keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who might see him.
“Don’t get yourself into situations with no way out,” Father said, when they were free, his grip hard on Bethany and Marian’s hands alike. Carver trailed behind with Mother. “Do you hear me?”
Merrill was still asleep, lying on her back, her lips parted. She was beautiful. Marian had noticed that before, of course. But in an abstract way. Not in a way that twisted her up inside. She is beautiful, and she is here, and she said she loved me. And last night I told her that this didn’t have to be the end. What does that mean? Why did I say it so quickly? How did Merrill take it?
Hence the deep, cold dread. The sense that she was at the bottom of that well again.
Marian rose from the bed slowly and carefully, rearranging the covers after she left, tucking them just a little around Merrill. She stopped just short of brushing back her hair. She stood there a moment, and then walked out into the hall, working through her thoughts, trying to understand them.
She used to help Bethany sneak into the chantry in Lothering sometimes, and once they’d heard an angry sister declare to a mother weeping for a son who’d been taken to the Circle that not only was the tower his place, but that they should castrate him when he got there, just to be sure there wouldn’t be more like him.
“Maybe you and I should never have children,” Bethany said quietly on their walk home.
“That’s absurd,” Marian said, because she suspected it was what Bethany wanted to hear.
“It does run in families, though. Look at us. Look at Aunt Revka, and all of her children. It’s in the Hawke blood and the Amell blood. And there is some truth to what she said about the Chant of Light.”
It. That was how they always referred to magic in public - and even, sometimes, when they were alone, as they were then, walking up the dirt path.
“But only some, Beth,” Marian insisted, pretending the words had struck no chord in her. “Imagine if Mother and Father thought that way. There’d be no you - and you are the best person I know.”
Bethany smiled at her then. Her smile always made Marian think of summer and sunflowers. Even now, standing in her dim, too-big Hightown house, where Bethany had never set foot, and never would.
That was some part of the dread. Marian protested that day, but privately, she doubted she would ever marry and have children of her own. She knew what the rest of her life as an apostate would look like. She did not resent her father and mother for that life - the running and the fear - but if she had the choice, she wouldn’t live that way. And she wouldn’t run the very risk that Bethany described that day. She wouldn’t bring a child into that life.
Of course, it did occur to her shortly after that decision that she might marry a woman, instead. Her first love had been a girl, a farmer’s daughter when she was fifteen. Wren. Marian could still picture her heart-shaped face perfectly. Maybe that was it. Maybe she would marry a farmer’s daughter with a heart-shaped face and they would adopt orphans given up to the Chantry - and Marian would live every day looking over her shoulder, praying no templars ever came to take her away from her children, that she never fell prey to a demon while sleeping next to her wife -
So that was part of the deep, dreadful feeling she had, then. Marian had never expected to fall in love again. And she hadn’t. She’d found several men and women attractive since then - she’d bedded some of them - but she hadn’t loved any of them.
And she knew, going down the stairs, replaying the events of the night before - Merrill’s big green eyes, the way she stayed so close the whole time they made love, the way she kissed her, savoring every breath - she knew this meant something. This wasn’t Isabela, who’d come in here like a hurricane, dropping knives and clothing left and right, never giving Marian a moment to think or feel anything other than more.
And she wasn’t Fenris. Fenris who’d smile at her and shiver when their hands touched as they practiced his letters, and whose voice grew louder and louder each time she tried to defend the reason she’d let an apostate go or lied to a templar or took Anders’ side. Fenris who’d finally looked at her one evening, a month before, when they’d been saying good night and she’d sidled up to him and angled her face up, a clear invitation for a kiss that would taste like the wine they’d shared, a kiss that would soothe away the argument they’d just had about Anders and Justice, and said:
“It’s never going to work between us, is it?”
She knew they couldn’t pretend anymore.
Wasn’t that part of the attraction to him, anyway? Knowing, on some level, that it was never going to work? That he was too principled, too wounded by mages and magic, to really fall for a mage who never said what she was really thinking if she thought it would disturb the peace?
Marian paused by the table in the hall where Bodahn left her letters and began to leaf through them. On top of them was a note from Bodahn himself, saying that he, Sandal, and Orana had gone out to the market together. Beneath that: trash. Trash. A plea for assistance. A clearly false advertisement for some sort of - male sexual enhancement. Another plea for assistance. Trash. A bill she would show to Varric before paying, because he’d insisted on becoming involving in her finances. Trash.
Marian went through the cards and letters and let herself think, until the thought floated to the surface. Merrill was not Isabela or Fenris, and that was why Marian was afraid.
Because when she turned and looked at the front door that Merrill came through the night before, her eyes wide and afraid - when she looked at the wall that she’d pressed Merrill up against when they kissed - when she thought back to all of the moments she’d missed over the years, the way Merrill looked at her, how stupid she’d been not to notice - she knew this meant something.
She’d known it the night before, or she would not have gone upstairs with her.
The stairs creaked then, and Marian turned to see Merrill standing on them, dressed only in a long white shirt - one of Marian’s own. Marian’s heart beat faster. There was something guarded in Merrill’s eyes. Shit - of course.
“I’m sorry,” Marian said at once. “I didn’t mean for you to wake up alone. I was going to the kitchen to bring us some breakfast.”
So quick to lie, Marian.
“Oh, it’s fine. I am an early riser anyway. Being Dalish, and all that. Always up with the sun.” Merrill smiled, but it was a weak smile, and her words were strangely clipped - not flowing and tumbling over themselves, the way they usually did. Marian’s heart sank. Merrill approached anyway, stopping a careful distance away from both the desk and Marian. Then she looked down at her bare feet, curling her toes in the expensive rug.
“Merrill -”
“I know last night meant something different for you than it did for me,” Merrill said, quick now, like usual. “Of course it did. I’ve been in love with you for years, Marian. And I know you aren’t in love with me. You said last night that this didn’t have to be the end but - if you are having second thoughts about me it could be.” She took a breath, and looked up, and her eyes were resolute, but there was something sad in the shape of her mouth. “I am sure it will take you some time to decide what you feel for me - if you feel anything - and that’s perfectly fine and I only wanted to say that -”
Marian took Merrill’s face in both her hands and kissed her.
Marian kissed her because it wasn’t Carver or Bethany that suggested they climb down into the well that long-ago day.
It was her.
Because under all the carefully manicured layers that Marian wrapped herself in now, she was still that child who knew an opportunity she couldn’t refuse - and leapt.
Merrill made a startled noise against her lips - but then she parted them, and Merrill followed suit, and they were warm and close together and the soft lap of Merrill’s tongue against her own made Marian’s breath catch. She fisted her hands in the loose cotton of Merrill’s shirt, shivered when Merrill’s own hands found their way to her back. They were both out of breath when they parted.
“You’re right,” Marian said. She kept Merrill close. “We are in different places. You got a bit of a head start on me. But I want to see where this leads, Merrill. I meant what I said last night. I did.”
Merrill’s smile was a little like Bethany’s. Summer and sunflowers and everything growing and new.
Marian kissed her again. And again. And again, through Merrill’s delighted giggles, as she pushed her towards the table and then helped her up onto it, sweeping the pile of letters and cards aside.
“Stop laughing,” Marian said, pushing the wide collar of the shirt down, leaving sucking kisses along Merrill’s collarbone. “It makes it hard to kiss you.”
“Maybe I’m just hoping you’ll kiss me somewhere else instead,” Merrill said, and her smile was wicked now, so Marian sank to her knees and parted Merrill’s legs and went to worship between them. She got her head underneath the hem of the shirt and saw Merrill there, already bare, and bit her lip against the flood of heat in her own belly at the sight.
“Here? Now?” Merrill didn’t sound hesitant. Marian pushed the shirt back anyway, all the way up Merrill’s stomach. She met her eyes, and then planted a kiss on each of Merrill’s thighs, right near those tiny, perfect whorls of dark hair.
“I think we both waited long enough.”
Merrill was noisy with a tongue between her legs, Marian discovered. And strong. She quickly got one hand in Marian’s hair and tugged whenever she wandered away from her clit. She broke out in elven when Marian sealed her lips around that pearl and sucked. But she didn’t come until Marian took one hand away from where it had been playing between her own legs, teasing her own swollen sex, and pressed two fingers up inside Merrill instead - and then she finished silently, except for a few high, needy noises at the biggest peaks, when her cunt was tight around Marian’s fingers. Marian felt her chest tighten, watching her come down from her high, seeing how her whole body rippled with it, how her mana buzzed and zapped around them both, just brushing against Marian’s own. She was beautiful, and she was here.
Later, in the kitchen, they sat together and had bread and cheese and cured meats, and talked idly, and Marian felt something settle into her chest. A little fear, maybe. But excitement, too, at the sight of Merrill in the morning, wearing her shirt, hair mussed, talking about what they should do that day. This was a beginning. This was something real.
Bodahn commented on the spilled mail when he, Sandal, and Orana returned later. She and Merrill hid their smiles in their tea, grinning at each other over the porcelain rims.
“I’m sorry, Bodahn,” Marian said. “But I’m afraid it may happen again.”
Merrill couldn’t stop laughing, and Marian found herself already planning new ways to earn that sound.
#dragon age 2 fanfic#f!hawke x merrill#hawke x merrill#who tells your story#beach writes#marian hawke#merrill
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
so, habitat 7. redshirt #2 dies, our brave and untested heroes are traumatized and shocked, and liam literally says two seconds later “wellllll anyway check out this cool architecture!”
i lol’d.
was not surprised by the events of habitat 7. we all knew from the first trailer release that “we’re the pathfinder now” so obv dad has to go. just… rlly bioware? u couldn’t have switched it up a little? just imagine how much more of an impact dadRyder’s death and the role of pathfinder would have had if we have spent the first half of the game in his shadow, choosing whether or not to obey his orders, defending or trashtalking him to npc’s, growing closer or farther from him, before he’s finally dramatically offed and we become pathfinder in his place. bioware needs to learn that we dont need to be The Chosen One ten minutes into the plot in order to have relevant and impactful decisions!!! heck i’d be happier to take branching dialogue that has actual consequences in meaningful development of our character and the feel and their relationships with other people in small ways rather than huge world state decision #7302999 that doesn’t actually change all that much in the rest of the game.
that’s just me but rlly tho this was a huuuge missed opportunity. i like that the ryder family exists in game, i’m not one of those rpg purists where i’m really bothered that we don’t have full and total control over our character’s personality and background, in fact i actually enjoy having a basis and starting point for pc’s. but like ive said irt fallout 4, if youre going to bother to make the pc’s family not only present but an important part of the plot, you can’t just stop half way. it’s not enough to be all Well it’s their dad/son/sibling, ofc they’re going to care! NO. it’s so much more effective when we actually spend time with them and get to have an opinion and bond and argue and build a relationship with them. (dragon age 2 anyone? TONS of people cared about what happened to the Hawkes. i know i did. carver and bethany were polarizing but at least we had an opinion on them! even tho they could’ve done way better there too but i mean, we got more content there than in me:a and that’s a fucking shame.)
i think there was also speculation before i went dark on mea spoilers of alec possibly being more of an antagonistic figure or even a villain and that idea is more promising than what we got too. just.. give me something bioware. gggggh.
anyway if youre that determined to follow the formula then at least give me some emotion. everyone around you is 110% more upset about dad ryder’s death than ryder herself (constant smiley face/zombie animations aside lol). most of the time she would talk about him like they’d just met and oh it was quite regrettable but not very affecting. and mb that was intentional on bioware’s part, it could very well have been and it could have been good, IF they didn’t go half way. ryder doesn’t know dad as well they wished they had, they don’t know how to do emotions, they’re confused or guilty that they don’t feel more bad, sad that they never had the chance to be closer to him, maybe they’re angry that he just dumped all this responsibility they didn’t ask for and a super fucking mega powerful AI that lives in their brain and can never be separated from them EVER and ryder jr has absolutely no say in the matter etc etc etc there are so many ways it could go, you can only see the barest hint of them in game but it’s mostly just completely glossed over. the most you can do is give grudging acceptance, no way to be entirely reactive to it one way or the other. it doesn’t go anywhere, there’s no emotion or payoff, it’s just kindof like hrmphh well i didn’t know dad all that well bummer! but hey i guess he rlly did care so that’s cool i guess!
u can do better bioware!!! don’t be afraid of the melodrama that’s the best part!!!
#bioware#me:a#mass effect andromeda#mass effect andromeda spoilers#alec ryder#ryder#mea spoilers#habitat 7#mea talk
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
