Posts Tagged 'hug your oc day'


You know what? I decided Jocelyn Hawke needed a hug, too.


Bran tells
him dourly that there’s someone to see him, presumably the last on his
calendar, and Varric just says “Yeah, whatever,” because it’s been a long day
already. He doesn’t even look up from the fucked-up accounts he’s been going

Then a
light, familiar voice says, “Varric, what are you doing in the Viscount’s

He looks
up and hastily takes off his reading glasses. Glasses or not, it’s definitely
Hawke standing there in dusty traveling clothes. He stares at her for a long
moment, slouching there like usual, like she never left, like she didn’t take
off for Weisshaupt months and months ago and never writes. He’s frankly at a
loss for words. Him, Varric Tethras.

Finally he
says, “I am the Viscount,” and Hawke blinks.

the Viscount?”


Kirkwall?” she says, like there’s somewhere else around here to be the Viscount

“Yeah,” he
says. “Hawke, where the hell have you been?”

Instead of
answering, she starts laughing. Uncontrollably, peals of laughter bursting out
of her and wiping the lines off her face, wiping away the years and losses of
the last decade. She laughs so hard she staggers and has to brace herself
against one of the heavy, ornate chairs kept for the Viscount’s visitors, and
then, still laughing, she tries to sit in the chair and misses, and slides down
to the ground. Varric can’t even see her over the damned desk, but she’s still

He sighs
and hops out of his chair and comes around the desk. Hawke is half-sprawled on
the floor, her back against the desk, clutching her midsection with both arms
while she laughs. Varric stands there patiently, arms folded, waiting.

She runs
out of air eventually, and the laughter peters out into giggles, and finally
she looks up at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and says, “You.
You’re the Viscount of Kirkwall. Aveline told me I’d better come up to the
Viscount’s office. I’m amazed she managed to keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, me
too,” Varric says, thinking that he owes Aveline one, only he’s not sure one of
what. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Hawke laugh like that.

She doesn’t
seem inclined to get up, and sighs and leans back against the desk, still
grinning, stretching out her long legs in front of her.

thinks it over and sits down beside her. Tucks an arm around her shoulders, and
Hawke leans in and rests her cheek against his shoulder with a little sigh.

“You came
back,” he says quietly, marveling a little. He honestly hadn’t been sure Hawke
would ever set foot in Kirkwall again.

She sighs
again, wearily, like the years and losses are creeping back. “Of course I came
back. Where else was I going to go?”

he almost says. Back to Fereldan or hell, she could run away to Antiva or
Rivain and just disappear. But he doesn’t actually want her anywhere but here,
so he squeezes her shoulders a little tighter.

To my OCs, a much needed hug


Amastacia Tabris – I’m sorry that I gave you a best friend in Alistair only to have you lose that when you made the choice to spare Loghain. I promise to find a proper cure for the Calling and ensure that you and Zevran have beautiful elven babies.

Marian Hawke – I’m sorry for allowing that Carta thug to get even within a hairsbreadth of you. I am sorry that you’ve lost the majority of your family. I promise to ensure you and Fenris run for the hills and never look back. I also promise not to harm your brother, he is safe and sound.

Iris Trevelyan – I’m sorry you spent the majority of your life in the circle. I’m sorry I made you so untrusting as to keep your brother at an arms length for the first few weeks once you were reunited. I’m sorry that I ‘killed you’, I know it was in the false future and trust me it hurt me even though I knew it was temporary. I’m also sorry for what happened to you in the Fade, there’s a purpose to all of this I swear. I promise you will have a happy future with your family and your future husband Cullen.

Modern! Marian Hawke – I’m sorry for creating a painful backstory for you from the get go. I’m sorry that you were set up for pain before you were even fully fleshed out. I promise that you have a happy ending coming, i swear to you it will be a good one. But I can’t share any of it because ‘spoilers’.

A Few Well-Deserved Apologies.


Well, it seems like all my OCs deserve hugs, except perhaps Jennet Surana (who simply has not been written about enough to need hugs – your time will come, Warden). I can’t hug them, but I can definitely apologize to them. 

Alice May: I’m so sorry I gave you two parents who loved you as much as they loved each other, and I’m sorry I took them away. I’m sorry I made you so angry. I’m sorry for making you hang out with your father’s double. You’ll see your parents again, I promise. 

Eylis Lavellan: I’m sorry about your arm, and your broken heart, and for killing you. I’m sorry I gave you so much pride. I’m sorry that I decided to make you the unhappiest and cruelest of all my OCs. You’ll find peace, I promise. 

Rhyssa Hawke: I’m sorry about the magebane, and the aftermath, and the mirrors. Most of all, I’m sorry I made you so exhausted by grief that you decided the only acceptable loss was yourself. The Fade will not be kind, but you’ll come home. I promise. 

Eliza Shepard: I’m sorry I made it so hard for you to accept that sometimes you will fail. I’m sorry I never let you rest. I’m sorry you keep falling. I’m sorry that (right now) you’re cold and hurting and blind, and that you still have such a long way to go. You’ll be redeemed, to yourself and to the galaxy, I promise. 

Thank you, all four of you, for letting me tell your stories. 

And thank you to everyone who’s read them. ❤ 


My dearest Alyx,

I want to start off by saying that you really
are my favorite. You probably always will be. That said, it does tend to
bring a lot of shit down on you, so…

From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

sorry that I gave you a traumatic backstory, and decided that you
should have a shitty relationship with your parents (for no good reason
at the time, really). I’m sorry I couldn’t even be bothered to write you
a replacement parental figure, until @emma-trevelyan​ swooped in with your lovely Uncle Leopold.

I’m sorry that in your canon universe I separated you from the first love of your life, letting you think she was dead.

really, REALLY sorry that in the megafic verse I saw fit to have you
transferred to the Gallows. I really don’t have words for how sorry I
am. Jeez. I am a horrible person. I’m sorry for a lot of things
that have happened in that fic, honestly (making you have a massive
fight with Emma in the middle of the main hall comes to mind). (Oh and
also making you an alcoholic, sorry about that too).

I’m sorry
that I have now given even the relatively happy modern AU version of
you a shitty backstory. And had you get separated from Grier. Again.

and I’m sorry for making you watch your husband get shot in front of
you and then dumping you in the post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland.

OH and I’m also sorry for taking your arm away in your canon universe. Almost forgot about that one. I’m the worst.

I’m sorry for all of the other things I’ve forgotten to apologize for.
I’m certain there are lots; I really have dumped a load of shit on you,
haven’t I?

In light of all that, here is my promise to you:

It will be okay.

have the strength to get through all of the shitty, shitty situations I
put you in. And when you do, I promise there is a light at the end of
the tunnel.

I also promise to give you a dog. I suppose a
couple of versions of you already have a dog, but those that don’t?
THEY’RE GETTING DOGS. Maybe a mabari for megafic-you. Just to annoy
Anders whenever he comes back, yeah?

I promise you lots of spice
cookies! They’re still your favorite, right? I know it’s not much in
light of what I’ve done, but a plate of cookies never hurt, did it?

most of all, I promise that you will always find love. Whether it’s
with Cullen or with Grier or with Piper and Cait or someone else
entirely, you will find someone who loves every bit of you and who will
stand at your side through all the trials I put you through.

Don’t lose hope.




It’s Hug Your OC Day!

I’ve had this discussion with my friends and this is tough for me. I played through all the DA games but never really connected and got in depth with developing any of them beyond their in game choices. I know, playing an RPG and I didn’t get into the role-playing? For shame.

Anyways, the PC I connected with the most was Hawke, and that’s the character I write about when I write DA fic (when I’m not writing solely canon characters). Yeah, yeah, I also stick with Marian and Garrett, too, and I have to always convince myself that these are considered OCs as well, especially when I’m taking them out of the context of their canon world.

My only ‘true’ OC is my little Beth in my Little Bird series. If I end up doing that FenHanders fluff then their kids will be OC’s too. I haven’t been too terrible to Beth though, at least in fic. I have been pretty awful to my Hawke’s tho.

Sooo.. here’s my letters of apologies to my Hawkes… and my Little Bird.

Dear Beth,

Hi Little Bird, you blinked into existence when I needed something really fluff for a Secret Santa gift. My goal in your story is to make every thing as fluffy as possible. If you go through any hardships, it’s solved like a well-loved cheesy sitcom.  I do want to apologize for a few things:

  • I’m sorry I put you in slaver hands for six years. I promise to never write about it.
  • I’m sorry I brought you, a sweet mage child, into a strained relationship made somewhat uneasy by magic. I promise you that these men love you with all their heart and you are the most important person in their lives.
  • I’m sorry that I seem to give your dads drama that you in turn have to deal with. I promise that I’ll always give you the strength to fix it, or put you in the hands that will help you.
  • Lastly, I’m sorry I haven’t written about you in a while. I promise you have birthday parties, mabari pups, more extended family visits, and a sweet girlfriend on my list of things to give you as you grow up.

Hugs from your brain mom – Mnemo

Letters to my Hawke’s under the cut

Keep reading

Hugs for the Seheron elves

It’s Hug Your OC Day! Considering that it’s been a while since I wrote and I left my Hawke family on relatively happy endings in the meantime, I’ve decided to offer preemptive hugs to young!Metis and his wife Mara, on account of the pain that there will be if/when I finally write down their backstory.

“You keep Varania occupied,” said Mara, “and I shall wash

“I can help,” Metis began to insist, carrying dishes in a
tenuous stack toward the basin.

Mara shook her head, intercepting him to take the pile. “And
while you do that, she’ll be out in the herb garden trying to dig a tunnel to
Ferelden again.”

He considered with a smile at that memory. “Right. Well
then, I’ll just go…supervise any digging. Keeping it strictly imaginary, of

Mara’s ears followed the sound of their progress as she
worked through the dishes. Her husband’s laughter pursued the squeals of their daughter
from one side of the yard to the other, deftly steering her away when she came
too near what remained of their kitchen herbs. She grinned when she heard the
wordless shrieks and giggles give way to a shout of “I fly, Papa! I fly!”
Through the window, Mara caught a glimpse of the tiny girl lifted aloft in her
father’s arms, zooming around the yard.

When the dishes were washed and dried, Mara took advantage
of the cottage’s emptiness (astounding how thoroughly a tiny two-year-old
seemed to fill any space where she was) to extend the tidying-up to the rest of
it, sweeping out one little room after another, returning to their places the
chairs Varania had dragged together in an attempt to climb up to the counter
where Mara kept the remnants of yesterday’s sweet biscuits. As she gathered
clothes for washing (Varania’s dress from yesterday thoroughly muddied from her
tunneling attempts in the garden), the patter of footsteps announced their
return indoors. Passing through the front room with the laundry basket under
her arm, Mara saw them seated before the hearth as Metis made up some story for
the wide-eyed girl on his lap.

All was quiet when she returned some time later with the
empty basket, leaving the laundry behind on the drying line. Glancing towards
the fire, she saw that they hadn’t actually moved. Metis was sprawled on his
back, one arm behind his head, the other draped over Varania, snuggled on his
chest and sound asleep. Mara stepped closer, unable to resist the urge to
straighten her daughter’s rumpled dress and smooth the red hair out of her eyes.
Neither of the sleepers stirred at her ministrations.

She left them to it, eventually, and went to fetch a blanket
from a chest, spreading it carefully over them both before she went on about
her business. There was mending to finish before the daylight faded (Varania’s dress,
torn three days ago when she caught it on the fence she was trying to squeeze
through). Settled down in a chair near enough the hearth to keep an eye on
them, Mara sat and stitched till only firelight remained. They shifted in their
sleep from time to time, but neither woke.

Mara went to get ready for bed herself, peeking at them from
time to time, biting at her lip as she considered waking them. Varania was
young enough to sleep anywhere, she supposed, but Metis would be stiff in the
morning from sleeping on the floor. Best to send them back to bed, then—but,
approaching with that intent, she saw Varania still curled up on Metis’ chest,
her head tucked beneath his chin, her small fist twisted in the fabric of his tunic,
and Mara could not bear to disturb them, whatever morning might bring.

She returned to the bedroom, but as comfortable and enticing
as the bed’s softness was after the day’s work, it seemed all too much. She lay
there wide awake for a time, staring out the window and straining to hear the
sounds of the Seheron wildlife, before finally pulling herself to her feet with
a huff of resignation. “Spoiled me for sleeping alone, you two have,” she
muttered, gathering the blanket and pillows from the bed and stumbling with her
load back into the front room.

The tableau before the hearth was unchanged. She spread the
second blanket over them before crawling in under it herself, attempting to
slide a pillow under Metis’ head without waking him.

She nearly succeeded, but he stirred as she finished and curled
herself against his side. Metis hummed, blinking blearily at her, and Mara
shushed him. “Go back to sleep, darling. It appears we’re camping out.”

Half awake, he glanced at her and then at the fireplace
behind her. “Or in, it seems.” The hand that had been stretched behind his
head, he now rearranged to hold her closer to his side, while Varania, still
stretched out on top of him, sighed in her sleep. “You should know, Mara,” he
murmured, “this daughter of yours is a demanding taskmaster. Had me flying her
around the yard till we wore both ourselves out.”

“As demanding as her father is obliging,” Mara muttered
wryly. When there was no response she glanced over to see that the obliging
father had already fallen asleep again. “Lucky girl,” she added in a whisper,
with a kiss to his cheek before she settled in against his side for the night.

Hug Your OC Day – June 17!


Fellow writers and artists and fandom creators
of all sorts! Have you been laboring under the weight of all the pain you’ve
imposed upon your OCs lately? Are you [ever so slightly] beginning to regret
the trials and tribulations the story has ABSOLUTELY REQUIRED you put them

Well, it is time to make amends. Join us in
observing HUG YOUR OC DAY on Friday, June 17! Show those poor fictional
characters that we still care, even if we have made a habit of putting them
through the wringer to the tune of our maniacal laughter.

How can you participate? I suggest…

  • Post a formal letter of apology for the latest angst you’ve imposed upon your babies
  • Draw art or write a story of your OC indulging in whatever makes them happiest
  • Give your OTP the fluffiest fic or art you can come up with
  • Compile aesthetic posts of what your OC might do on a well-deserved vacation
  • And I’m sure you can think of more happy ways to celebrate your OC and give them a break from all that [totally necessary, character-developing] pain! Add your ideas to this post if you will!

Let’s tag things with #hug your oc day,
the better to share the OC love and celebration and pamper our babies just a
little. Because they’ve earned it.

Just a reminder that this is two days away!

Blogger Gatherings!

Click the button for reports from the 2010 Spring Blogger Gathering, hosted by Linett of Nimrodel!

Berethron of Brandywine hosted the 2010 Summer Blogmoot.

The Winter Blogmoot was held on December 4, 9 p.m. EST at the home of Telwen of Silverlode.

Next up: The Spring Blogmoot of 2011 shall return to Nimrodel with Tuiliel (Whart, aka user-1027520) hosting! Linett is looking forward to another local moot!



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