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barbex · 1 year

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I posted 5,141 times in 2022

125 posts created (2%)

5,016 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@potatowitch

@dadrunkwriting

@tea42

@noire-pandora

@justcallmecappy

I tagged 5,031 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#dragon age - 2,559 posts

#anders - 948 posts

#fenris - 888 posts

#dragon age fanfiction - 552 posts

#fenris x anders - 462 posts

#hawke - 437 posts

#fenders - 373 posts

#fenris!! - 304 posts

#mass effect - 248 posts

#fenris x hawke - 218 posts

Longest Tag: 84 characters

#like i'm fiddling with headers and eraser tools for my fucking fic headers for hours

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

I would love to see a scene where an argument happens, but the characters resolve things by the end (or at least come to a mutual understanding of their differences). Happy Friday and happy writing!

Thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting. Not sure this is what you had in mind but fenders happend.

---

“What do you want, mage?” Fenris snarls as Anders strolls into the mansion as if he owns the place. Not that the door is in any shape to actually hold off intruders.

“Excuse me, just wanting to check on that burn at your side,” Anders says, ignoring Fenris’ glare with a bored expression. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I saw you catching a full blast from that demon.”

Fenris winces as he looks down at his side. He took the armor off already, but his undershirt sticks painfully to the weeping wound. “Why do you care?”

Anders rolls his eyes at Fenris. “Are you serious? I’m a healer, I guess I just can’t help myself. I don’t want to see my friends die of infections.”

Fenris looks at Anders. He holds himself tall and proud, but he leans on his staff, keeping weight off his left side. “I don’t want your magic on me.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware.” Anders throws an angry look at him. “What has magic touched that it didn’t spoil, isn’t that what you said? And you’re right, of course, the chantry tells us all the time that we are a mistake by the Maker. Me, that little girl in the courtyard, that stupid Emile — mistakes, mistakes, all of us. Although, Emile makes one wonder...”

He doesn’t want to hear this. “I apologise.”

“Fuck you. Don’t throw out some weak apology just to shut me up.” Anders steps closer and points at the stain on his shirt. “Let me see that. It has to be cleaned and I have a salve to stave off the infection.”

“A salve?”

“Classic and traditional. No magic.” Anders kneels down, picking and pulling at the hem of his shirt. “This is gonna hurt.”

“Do it quickly.” Fenris clenches his jaw, bracing himself for the pain as Anders rips the fabric away from the wound. The pain is excruciating and he breathes hard against it.

“You are allowed to make a sound, you know?”

Fenris opens his eyes, realising only now that he squeezed them shut. He glares at Anders. “Ow.”

Anders snorts. “Aren’t you tough.” He wets a clean piece of cloth with something from a bottle and begins to clean the wound. It burns. “You know that this would all be much easier with magic, right?”

Fenris sighs. Anders has healed everyone in Hawke’s group several times, including himself. There is no point in making things more difficult for him, despite his distrust of magic. “Use magic then. Make it quick.”

Anders’ eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut again. He cleans the wound with a swipe of his hands and then lets them hover, golden glow sinking from his hands into Fenris’ side. It feels warm, gentle. Nothing like the nightmares that keep haunting him.

“I want to apologise, truly,” Fenris says quietly.

Anders opens his eyes as the glow from his hands disappears. “I understand why you react like you do, and I shouldn’t rile you up all the time. I guess I have to apologise too. So we’re even. You should apologise to Hawke, though.” He frowns at Fenris. “She really loves you, you know?”

“I will.”

Anders looks up at him, his fingertip sliding over the edge of the healed wound. For a moment, there is something in his eyes that Fenris can’t read and it’s gone just as quickly. He turns away, gets up and is two steps away when Fenris notices how cold he suddenly is.

“Anders,” he calls after him. “Thank you.”

Anders looks over his shoulder, something painful in his expression. He nods and slips out of the room without another word.

Fenris glares at the clutch of mushrooms next to the door as if they could tell him why he feels so strange now.

49 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

I'm dumb and can't find the prompt lists so I'll freestyle, if I may, with Fenders: head in lap.

No one is dumb here. This was a wonderful prompt and you just know me and my fenders obsession! For @dadrunkwriting tonight.

---

The first time, it was Fenris. Sleeping with his head in Anders' lap.

Nobody quite remembers how it happened, Isabela had brought some special rum and the night in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man quickly turned into the kind of comfortable, hazy memory, where nobody can quite recall how the evening ended. All Anders remembers is that he woke up when his head dropped against the wall and when he looked down, there was Fenris, sleeping in his lap.

Some time later, Fenris woke up, sat up, and looked around with a scowl as if the world had wronged him. Anders quickly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He never mentioned the incident to anybody, but something changed between them afterwards. They still bickered and disagreed, but it was less vicious.

The other time, it is Anders, falling asleep with his head in Fenris' lap. They are outside, near the coast, and it's such a beautiful, warm night that they didn't bother to put up the tents. The fire is already low and Isabela tells a story from her travels, something outrageous of an antivan tradition about dancing naked around a fire. Anders is almost sure she made that up.

But it's soothing to listen to her, and Anders stretches himself out on his side, with his arm bent under his head, closing his eyes. Under Isabela's warm voice, waves crash gently to the shore in the distance. Soon he doesn't listen to the story anymore and just lets the sounds wash over him.

When he opens his eyes again, stars shine above him. The fire is down to glowing embers, not giving off much light anymore, and the sky above is a dome of chandeliers. Stars blink everywhere, more than he has ever seen. He's so captivated by the beauty above, he doesn't notice Fenris' presence for a while. When he realizes that the softness under his neck is not his pack, but Fenris' thigh, he freezes.

Of course, Fenris notices right away. Anders feels the muscles in his thigh tense under his neck. He moves to scoot away or get up, to give Fenris space.

"You don't have to move," Fenris says, his voice low and calm.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Anders slowly relaxes, he practically feels his vertebrae popping back into place. He looks further up, finding Fenris' face among the stars, framed by his shining white hair. A third moon in his sky.

Fenris turns his face a minuscule amount, his eyes meeting Anders'. "May I touch your hair?"

Anders stares, trapped in the fairies' call that is Fenris' green eyes. "Sure."

Fenris' fingers slide into his hair, pushing the hair-tie out. He brushes through Anders' hair, carefully picking at tangles, until his fingers can slide through it without resistance. Anders closes his eyes. It feels wonderful. Fenris' fingers gently scratching over his scalp and then brushing down his hair. He's dozing off again, exhaustion catching up with him.

When he wakes again, the sun is rising. His head still rests on Fenris' thigh and Varric very deliberately turns his back to them, after winking at him. Anders swallows a groan, Varric surely will never let this go. He turns back, expecting Fenris to look at him, but his eyes are closed. He sleeps, sitting. His back bend and his head hanging, with one hand on Anders' chest and the other on the pommel of his sword next to him.

This is probably how he slept as a bodyguard, Anders realizes with a start. Sitting at the ready, unable to lie down and truly sleep. As he sits up, Fenris' eyes fly open, his hand tightening around his sword.

"It's alright, you should lie down and really rest." Anders scoots to the side and gestures to the space next to him. "Come, lie down."

Fenris' eyes widen. He moves slowly, as if he expects to be reprimanded, but at last he settles down with his back to Anders and when Anders wraps his arm around him, he only lets out a long breath.

Anders stuffs a rolled-up blanket under their heads and moves closer to Fenris, just shy of pressing his nose into Fenris' hair. "Isn't that better?"

"Yes." Fenris scoots a little bit closer. "It is nice."

Anders tightens his arm around Fenris' waist. "Now we're even for sleeping in each other's lap."

Fenris flinches. "You remember that?"

"Yes, I do."

"So..."

Anders waits, even though it takes all his patience to wait for Fenris to finish his sentence. "So?" he finally asks.

"So next time, I'll be the one holding you as we sleep."

For several seconds, Anders forgets to breathe. "Next time?"

See the full post

50 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

I wish you would write a scene about red wine stained lips with Fenris and whoever else you want :) Hope you have fun tonight!

Thank you for this prompt!

Another fenders ficlet for @dadrunkwriting on this Friday.

---

"And I fold," Donnic says.

"Yeah, me too." Anders stares at his miserable hand for a moment longer and then lets the cards fall on the table. Wicked Grace has never been his game. Why he even comes to these games, in Fenris' mansion, he doesn't quite know.

Looking at their host, a hot blush creeps up his neck. Yes, he does know.

Fenris looks at his cards, the tip of his tongue brushing over his wine-stained lips.

In the daydreams Anders likes to have, he gets to kiss those lips, gets to taste the traces of wine on them and feel them yield to his tongue as he explores his mouth. In his dreams, he gets to trail kisses all over Fenris' body, finding out how far the white markings go.

But here, in the real world, Fenris doesn't even look at him. At least he doesn't call him an abomination anymore and the way he calls him 'mage', sounds almost friendly, sometimes.

Anders pushes his chair back and walks through the kitchen into the small garden that the mansion has been built around. Once, this probably had been some decorative, orlesian monstrosity, with bushes cut in animal shapes and poisonous flowers. But years of neglect have transformed it into a jungle, with vine covered trees straining upwards and covering the patch of sky above him with a net of vines and leaves. He looks up, watching the stars twinkle through the gaps in the natural canopy.

"Mage," Fenris calls out to him, his voice low and calm.

Anders startles. "I just wanted to catch some fresh air. Is it my turn again?"

Fenris' silhouette is dark against the warm light of the kitchen, his face not visible. "The others left."

"Oh." Anders looks up at the stars one more time. "I guess I lost sense of time." He walks back to the bright frame of the kitchen door, where Fenris is waiting. "Sorry, I'm getting out of your hair."

Fenris steps aside to let him go inside. "You're not... you're not in my hair."

"I know, it's just a phrase." Anders hurries into the main hall to get his staff from where it leans against the wall. "I wonder where that expression comes from, originally. Did people pull each other's hair to get their attention? How weird would that be, right?" Anders forces his mouth to shut, he always babbles when he's nervous and Fenris' frown clearly tells him how annoying he is.

Grabbing his staff, some of the tension flows from his shoulders. He always feels safer with his staff. "There, off I go." He doesn't dare to look at Fenris, at the disapproving scowl he surely wears.

"Mage."

Fenris' voice stops him mid-step in front of the door. "Yes?" He turns around, slowly, bracing himself for... something.

"When we were playing," Fenris says, his gaze falling to his hands, "you kept looking at my face. Why?"

"Oh, that was nothing." Anders smiles and shakes his head and nearly misses the angry frown growing on Fenris' forehead.

Fenris glares at him. "Is it amusing to look at my disfigurement?"

"Your disfigure... what?" Anders turns fully to Fenris now. "There is nothing disfiguring about you, at all."

"Then what were you looking at?"

Anders takes a step closer and raises his hand to Fenris' face. Watching him for a violent reaction, he brushes his thumb over Fenris' lower lip. "The wine stained your lips. They looked so red all evening." He pulls his hand away again, and presses the pad of his thumb against his own lip, as if he's kissing it.

Fenris' eyes widen, and Anders hurries out of the door, before Fenris can snap out of his shock and decides to pull Anders' heart out of his chest.

52 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

I wish you would write a scene where Fenris has to be the one to take care of Anders rather than the other way around - whether that be in a domestic sense, a medical/battle sense, or otherwise

Such a good prompt, thank you! This is for @dadrunkwriting on this here Friday.

Fenris x Anders, fenders fic, illness

---

The lantern is out but Fenris tries the door with his good arm. It's not locked. Careless. The mage is always too careless, thinking that nothing can happen to him down here, as if templars and killers never come this far. If Hawke loses her favorite healer, she will be very upset. He steps into the room, his eyes adjusting quickly to the low light.

"Serah Fenris, I'm sorry, the clinic is closed," one of Anders' helpers calls to him from a table where she folds linen by the light of a candle. She looks at how he cradles his arm and takes the candle over to him. "Let me see your arm. I can't heal it like Anders, but I can help you in the traditional way."

"Linette!" Anders' voice comes from behind the curtain that separates the clinic from his private room. "Let me see his arm."

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Linette scolds.

"I can't sleep when I can't breathe. Come in here, Fenris."

Anders' voice is nasal, and he sniffles after each sentence. When Fenris steps behind the curtain, it's obvious why. The mage is sick. He quickly hides his red nose behind a neckerchief that he binds tightly over his nose and mouth, but Fenris saw it.

"You don't have to hide your face, mage."

Anders rolls his eyes. "I'm not. I just don't want you to catch it, too. You should cover your nose too, just to be safe." Anders throws a piece of cloth towards him from a pile of neatly folded fabric. "It's clean, Linette even ironed it."

Fenris folds the roughly square piece of red cloth into a triangle and ties it over his nose. The mage waves him closer and looks at Fenris' arm. "It's not broken, just strained. Have Linette put the green salve on it and tie it in a splint and it should be good in about two weeks." He makes a vague gesture and turns around, blowing his nose.

Fenris lets the curtain fall closed behind him and watches as Linette stabilizes his arm.

"I hope he sleeps now," she says.

"He seems tired."

"Pah," Linette huffs. "He's always tired. Healing takes so much out of him and then all the adventures you and your friends drag him out on." She tightens that bandage and checks it over. "I'm glad he's getting out into the sun sometimes, but I think you're asking too much of him. There, that should hold for a while. You can take it off to wash yourself, but make sure to put it back on afterwards."

Fenris still wonders about what Linette said as she ushers him out of the door. The mage always healed them without complaint. It never even occurred to Fenris that it would be taxing. When Danarius saw fit to heal him, he either had the healer sent away quickly afterwards, or he did it himself, as a reward. Fenris was expected to be affectionate afterwards and held him as he rested. He never made the connection that Danarius was tired from healing.

"We're going home now, healer!" Linette and an elven woman call into the empty room and pull the door closed behind them. Fenris hears them talking as they walk past him.

"He shouldn't be alone."

"No, but I have the kids at home, I can't stay."

"I tell Vershe to take watch at the door later on."

The women walk on, too far away to listen to them, and Fenris still stands frozen to the spot. The mage shouldn't be alone. He has helped so many people; he has helped Fenris without ever asking for a reward. He shouldn't be alone when he's sick.

Fenris turns back to the clinic, opens the door, and sets the plank across to keep it closed. They'll be safe from surprises at least.

"Hello?" comes Anders' congested voice from behind the curtain.

"It's me, Fenris." He pulls the cloth back over his nose and slides the curtain to the side. "You should sleep."

"I'm trying. My nose keeps me up."

"Why don't you just heal yourself?"

Anders sinks back on his pillow, breathing through his open mouth. "I wish I could. But something about this stops the magic from reaching myself. Why are you here?"

"You shouldn't be alone."

See the full post

59 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy Friday! I would love to see a fic where one character is in prison and their partner is visiting for the first time. For Fenris/Anders? Or whichever pairing you think would work best. :)

Thank you for this prompt! For some reason, Varric wanted to tell this story.

For @dadrunkwriting on this Friday:

---

"Where is he?"

Varric jerks so hard in shock that he spills tea all over himself. "Andraste's dirty knickers."

Fenris steps in front of him, murderous rage in his eyes. "Where. Is. Anders?"

"And hello to you too, my dear Fenris." Fenris' gauntleted hand tightens around the lapel of Varric's jacket and her hears the fabric rip. "You know, it's not quite so easy to get clothes for dwarves up here. It's a long way through the Frostbacks for traders to come to Skyhold."

"Varric," Fenris says with a warning growl under his voice.

"I can take you to him, just... promise you won't freak out."

"I will promise no such thing." Fenris lets go of Varric's jacket and steps back.

"It was worth a shot." Varric pulls at the hem of his shirt and jacket until it feels right again and darts to walk towards the stairs leading to the lower levels. "How did you even get in?" he asks to fill the silence.

"Cullen. He knows me."

Varric looks over his shoulder to throw Fenris a doubtful look. "That's usually not exactly an endorsement."

Fenris doesn't say another word but the anger clinging to him is like a palatable force. The deeper they get under Skyhold, the deeper Fenris' frown becomes. Finally they reach the dungeons. Varric gestures towards the prison cells, only a little surprised to see Cullen already waiting for them in front of Anders' cell.

"Fenris," Cullen says, stepping in his way. "You may speak with him but he has to stay in the cell. Don't try to break him out, you'll be only making it worse."

Fenris just stares at Cullen, his hands clenching at his sides. At last, Cullen steps aside and Fenris rushes towards the cell with three long strides. "Anders," he calls into the cell.

Varric steps closer, looking into the cell. The cold stone floor is covered with straw and a mat and a pile of rough blankets act as a bed. Only when the pile of blankets moves, does he realize that a person is somewhere under that. Anders peers out of the pile, his eyes red-rimmed and tired.

"Fenris? What are you doing here?"

At the sound of his voice, Fenris sinks to his knees, his hands tightening around the vertical bars that separate them. "Did you think I would not find you?"

Anders sits up, scooting closer to the bars. "I didn't think you would look."

Varric hurries to step back, to give the two a little bit privacy. Their voices lower, it's almost just a whisper. Anders' softly, halting and stumbling, and Fenris' harsh, hissing until he suddenly softens, quietly pleading.

At some point, Fenris turns, looking over his shoulder at Cullen. "Magebane? Is that how the Inquisition treats mages now?"

Cullen sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, that's how we treat mages who happen to be prisoners. It would make little sense to lock up a mage who can free himself in seconds."

"Why is he locked up?" Fenris asks, looking at Anders again. "He came to you on his own accord, turning himself in."

"Tomorrow is his trial. The Inquisitor will decide."

Fenris stretches his hand through the bars and lays his palm on Anders' cheek. "The Inquisitor is a judge now? By which law?" His thumb wipes a tear away from Anders' lower eyelid.

Cullen sighs again. "Don't you start. You have to come with me now.

"I'm staying here."

"You can't, you —" One look from Fenris has Cullen snap his mouth shut. "Fine." He turns on his heels and stomps up the stairs. "Are you coming, Varric? I'm going to lock the main door."

See the full post

69 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #look ma I have original posts!

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violetiris-ak · 2 years

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Just laughing as I think about the time when I was new to Tumblr, and I went on an Anders/Fenris rant, just typed it all out, posted, and then tagged a DA mutual to ask what they thought.

Only, I wrote the whole thing in the title header cause I had no idea what I was doing so it looked like I was screamig into the black depths of the Tumblrverse but then went "oh you know who needs to hear this" and then inflicted it all on one particular soul instead. No surprise they told me they were kind of drunk and would respond later - cause I definitely seemed like it but was sober save my righteous anger for justice for mages and the enslaved.

#dragon age 2 #fenris #anders #mage rights

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nikethestatue · 17 hours

Note

Your header is so cute! Always brings a smile to my face.

Aww thank you. My 3 Kings and Elain.

happilyeverafterreads drew fan art of my fanfic the Kings' Wife and I absolutely adore it. (in case people don't know, it's Fenrys, Ruhn and Azriel)

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wipbigbang · 9 months

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The final round of art claims is open at @wipbigbang! We have all sorts of great stories left in multiple fandoms, and we'd love any type of fanart for them: traditional art, digital art, fanmixes, moodboards, fic covers/chapter headers...any kind of art you can imagine!

The synopses are located at https://wipbigbang.dreamwidth.org/173272.html

The form is located at https://forms.gle/yyxkCxyXJopMTyUs8.

Dragon Age 2

#031

Title: Set Yourself On Fire

Pairing/Characters: Marian Hawke & Garrett Hawke, Marian Hawke & Varric Tethras, Marian Hawke & Carver Hawke, some mentioned Fenris/Marian Hawke and Anders/Garrett Hawke

Rating Mature | M

Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence

TW: Canon-typical Violence, Suicidal Ideation, Self-Sacrifice, Traumatic Amputation, Miscommunication, Arguing, Some Drinking and Alcohol.

Summary: Marian Hawke's life is falling apart. After a game of telephone strains her already unsteady relationship with her twin brother Garrett, the Arishok attacks Kirkwall, and she chooses to do the only thing that will keep the people she loves safe: accept his challenge, and fight to the death.

A fic following my Twin!Hawke AU, taking place at the end of Act 2 after Marian has been broken up with by Fenris, and Leandra has passed away. Covers the occupation of Kirkwall by the Qunari.

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scntichloe · 3 years

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– 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 (throne of glass version).

credits to @pcppycas on twitter.

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editcrows · 3 years

Photo

Fenrys Headers, from Throne of Gass by Sarah J. Mass

like or reblog if you save/use

#book headers #book header #quote headers #quote header #headers book #header book #fenrys headers #fenrys header #headers fenrys #sjm headers #tog headers #tog header #throne of glass headers #throne of glass header #header tog #headers tog #headers throne of glass #header throne of glass

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jacedits · 3 years

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— tog headers simples

• like or reblog if you save, please.

• credit me on twitter if u use @/meritvitalio.

#tog headers #tog #trono de vidro #aelin ashryver #aedion #rowan #sam cortland #whitethorn #lorcan #elide #manon #dorian #headers #fenrys #chaol

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baejax-the-great · 3 years

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Chapter 19: Alistair

Alistair x Bethany

Chapter content: Alistair in the Fade. Enough said.

Hang on, the voice echoed. Hang on, hang on, hang on.

To what? Alistair would have asked if there was anyone to listen. With what?

He’d had hands once, large ones. Reliable. Fumbling but strong. Useful for hanging, if necessary. He’d definitely hung off of things before. Ledges and the like. They’d been through things, his hands. He had a scar on all but one finger on his left hand, courtesy of a sword, knife, gravel, and a shockingly aggressive bird in that order. Two burns on his right, one from an emissary and one from a sneakily hot cookpot. Lentils everywhere. Pinky never felt quite right after that. But now—his pinky didn’t feel much of anything at all, if he still even had one. Alistair wiggled it, or tried to anyway, remembered what it felt like to have a hand and command it to wiggle. He was rewarded for his efforts with pain that streaked up his memory of an arm and settled where his neck should be, blinding him until the landscape before him crushed itself into blackness then stretched and stretched again, all blurred and dim and useless.

I’m all hands, he’d once said, as if they weren’t any good. An apology. To who?

Hang on.

Alistair wasn’t hanging in any sense of the word. Sitting at best, and even that he couldn’t be sure of. Sitting required legs, and he wasn’t going to tempt fate by searching for those. Hanging by a thread, now there was a thought. Those had all snapped, of that he was certain. Hung out to dry maybe. Could be. Hanging on her words, hanging on her lips again.

Beth.

They were her words. Hang on, Ali. But he couldn’t remember why.

Read the rest on AO3 | Or start from the beginning

#my writing #alistair #bethany hawke #alistair x bethany #fenris x hawke #the fade #he's fine don't worry about him #the ugly header because it's an alistair chaptere

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kariniarts · 7 years

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Bioware pls.

#solas #sera #merrill #fenris #zevran #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #pls bioware i want them all back pls pls pls #my art #dunno if anyone remembers this but it was a wip from forever ago #still wip i guess #my new header :3

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leiawritesstories · 2 years

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CHAPTER ONE: THE STOWAWAYS

Word count: 2k

Warnings: language, slight violence

header image is my own design. watercolors.

It’s here and I’m very excited to share it! Might be a little sporadic at first, though, because the semester is picking up speed and I have more than one big fat paper to write. Yay. Anyway. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, or as she was known on the high seas, Captain Ash Galathynius, was less than impressed with the two men whom Elide had discovered hiding in her hold. Seated behind her simple, tasteful oak desk, she folded her hands together and stared, expressionless, at the duo. Obviously, they were pirates from another ship; their simple clothes, hardened exteriors, and the way the taller one’s eyes tracked around her cabin, cataloging every visible detail of the space, gave them away. Elide’s nod confirmed that they were both unarmed, either having left whatever weapons they’d brought down in their hidey-hole or not having brought weapons at all, confident that they wouldn’t need force to infiltrate Aelin’s ship. She inwardly scoffed at that idea.

“Explain before I form my own conclusions,” she commanded, the authority in her voice unmistakable.

The blonde one grinned a roguish grin that had probably gotten him both into and out of a whole lot of trouble. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, Captain Galathynius. My name’s Fenrys.”

“Moonbeam,” snarled the tall, dark-haired one who seemed to be permanently angry. “Shut the hell up.”

“I wish I could say the same, Fenrys Moonbeam,” Aelin drawled, biting back a smirk. “Would you like to tell me why, exactly, you and Mr. Scowl here decided to try and stow away on my ship?”

“Mr. Scowl,” snickered Fenrys, “that about sums him up, Captain. This is Lorcan.”

“I thought I told you to shut the hell up, Fenrys,” Mr. Scowl--Lorcan--grunted.

“But the Captain asked me to explain, and she outranks you,” Fenrys returned, smirking at the murderous expression on Lorcan’s face.

“If you have anything to add, you’re more than welcome to speak,” Aelin commented, propping her chin on her hands. “Now start talking before I skip the parlay and execute you for trespassing.”

“That’s not how parlay works,” Lorcan grunted.

Aelin just shrugged. “My ship, my rules. Isn’t that how piracy works?”

Lorcan ground his teeth together. “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

A dagger whistled through the air and embedded itself in the wall mere millimeters away from his throat. Lorcan jumped, definitely not having expected that. Aelin’s bright blue eyes burned into him, the ring of gold around her pupils literally appearing almost aflame.

“Use that term once more and I won’t willingly miss,” she hissed. She settled back into her chair. “Now talk, you two.”

Lorcan gulped, suddenly gaining a small modicum of fear for the young, female pirate captain. “We were being held aboard the Eyllwe and we escaped, taking one of the rowboats, some six days ago. We’ve heard the Terrasen’s captain was more welcoming than some others, so we decided to find your ship and slip aboard, hoping we could blend in with the crew.”

Aelin raised a golden brow. “The Eyllwe, is it? That right, Fenrys?”

“Uhh, yeah, the Eyllwe.”

She chuckled. “Oh, boys. You really should have done your research before trying to infiltrate my ship.”

Fenrys blinked. “What the hell?”

“I happen to be on very good terms with Captain Ytger of the Eyllwe, and therefore I happen to know that she has been wreaking havoc in the southern seas for at least two months, which makes your story completely impossible. Not to mention that Fenrys here is a terrible co-liar.” She clicked her tongue. “Lesson one of proper ship infiltration, Lorcan. Do your research. And do it well, otherwise you’ll find yourselves in this very situation.” She steepled her fingers. “El?”

Elide Lochan, her petite, sharp-eyed, brunette First Mate, who’d located and captured the two, stepped forward. “Yeah?”

“Open Mr. Scowly’s shirt for me. I’ve got a suspicion.”

“Of course.” She flicked her dagger once, slitting open Lorcan’s shirt. He growled, trying to twist away from her, but she just elbowed him in the ribs and yanked his shirt down so it exposed his chest. And his distinctive, damning, Doranelle tattoo--the black-inked, open-mouthed skull that appeared to be eating the jumble of inked names, all ships the Doranelle had taken. Gavriel did excellent work, but right at that moment, Lorcan really fucking wished he hadn’t asked for such a unique tattoo.

“Fascinating.” Aelin grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “Welcome aboard the Terrasen, Mr. Salvaterre, Mr. Moonbeam. I’m sure Captain Whitethorn expected my ship to be easy prey, no?”

Flabbergasted, Lorcan couldn’t form a response. How the holy fuck does she know my full name? he wondered, realizing that it was probably due to sea stories of him and his famous tattoo, how he inked the names of his conquests onto his skin.

Fenrys, the moron, swept Aelin a little half-bow. “Thank you, Captain Galathynius.”

She stood and strode around her desk to face them, grinning fiercely. “You have two options.”

“How generous of you,” Lorcan snarked.

Aelin chuckled. “And a sense of humor, too. Fancy that.” She cleared her throat. “Either I kill you right now and have my First Mate dump your worthless carcasses over the side, or you make yourselves useful to me and my ship.”

“I don’t know about Lorcan, but I’d really rather live,” Fenrys announced. “How can I help you, Captain?”

“Well, at least one of you has half a brain,” Aelin drawled. “You, Mr. Moonbeam, are now a Waister. You’ll be a probationary hire for the time being, until you prove yourself worthy of earning pay. You answer to me and my lieutenants and to us alone. Clear?”

“Crystal, Captain.” Fenrys automatically moved to knuckle his brow in deference, forgetting his hands were still bound.

Aelin smirked. “Elide, make sure this all goes in the ship’s records. I don’t need these two staging a revolt on a technicality. They look like the kind that would do something petty like that. Or at least, Scowly here does.”

“You got it, Cap,” Elide smirked, scratching down the information in the ship’s log. “One new Waister. Any more new crew?”

“We shall see.” Turning back to Lorcan, she raised a brow. “And you, Salvaterre? Your choice?”

Lorcan gritted his teeth, his lips pressed into a hard, tight line. “Am I to join the Waisters too, Captain?” He couldn’t keep a hint of derision out of his address to her.

She clicked her tongue, cocking her head in thought. “No. It’d be a shame to waste an obviously experienced man like you on deck scrubbing, though it certainly wouldn’t hurt your ego.”

“My ego, Captain?” he couldn’t resist asking.

“Quite,” she returned. “And I would be careful what claims you make about my ego, Salvaterre. Remember that nobody here except maybe Fenrys has much care for whether you remain alive or join the fishes.” Her unforgiving eyes drilled into him. “The choice is all yours.”

“Fine,” Lorcan grunted, “I shall join your crew.”

“Welcome to the topmen, then, Lorcan Salvaterre. Like Fenrys here, you’re on probation until you’ve proven yourself worthy of drawing pay. Furthermore,” she paused, tilting her head, “I shall require that you remain.”

“What?”

“You are to remain here after Fenrys is dismissed to be shown to his quarters. I believe we have a few matters to discuss in private.”

Lorcan shoved down the apprehension that statement brought, forcing his face to remain unchanged. “Fine.”

Aelin waved at Elide. “Show Moonbeam his new quarters. See to it that he’s under Galan’s eye.”

“Aye, Cap.” Elide saluted and led Fenrys away.

Once the door clicked shut, Aelin pulled a chair in front of her desk. “Sit.”

“I’m still tied up, Captain,” Lorcan reminded her.

“You aren’t here to give me lip,” she snorted. “Sit.” Grabbing the rope that bound him, she slacked it just enough for him to sit, then tugged his arms behind the back of the chair and retied the knots. She returned to her seat, now facing him. “Captain Whitethorn is not an idiot, so am I correct in assuming Fenrys knows only that you two needed to get aboard my ship?”

“Fenrys barely even knows that,” Lorcan scoffed, realizing too late that he’d revealed too much.

“I see,” Aelin hummed. “In that case, I shall keep to my hypothesis.”

“Oh, you have a hypothesis?”

“That I do,” she said proudly, “despite you obviously thinking I’m incapable.”

“I don’t--”

“Let’s not lie to each other, Salvaterre.” Her voice went hard. “Deal?”

He said nothing.

“Let me rephrase.” Aelin braced her hands flat on her desk and stared Lorcan dead in the eye. “If you lie to me, whatever deals we make will be considered invalid, and neither I nor any of my crew will hesitate to slit your throat and dump your useless ass overboard. So I repeat, deal?”

Lorcan swallowed, knowing then that he’d wholly underestimated the captain. “Deal.”

“Excellent.” She leaned back, considering. “I know you’re unlikely to directly admit anything you know, so I think I’ll just start conjecturing and see how long it takes you to laugh at my stupidity.”

Shit, Lorcan thought.

“Captain Whitethorn sent you two to infiltrate my ship. There must be some reason Fenrys was sent, that reason not being his sense, so I’ll just guess it has something to do with his shipboard skills.” She watched Lorcan carefully, noting the flash of a suppressed snicker when she said that about Fenrys. “You, obviously, were sent as the responsible one, the one actually charged with the mission and its details. But. Whitethorn doesn’t have any real reason to spy on me, so the command must have come from…higher up.”

Lorcan sucked in a short, tight breath. Aelin grinned.

“I see I’ve hit something. Hmm. The Doranelle is highly respected in the pirate fleet, given that Captain Whitethorn is one of the pirate lords, so let’s just assume he’s on relatively decent terms with Rolfe, shall we? And let’s assume Rolfe is getting a little antsy about a certain Captain Galathynius being rumored to be plotting a coup, shall we? I wonder, whatever would His Bloody Majesty think of that?”

“Fucking hell,” Lorcan mumbled, hardly audible.

Aelin’s grin grew. “Perhaps he’d send a missive to one of his most trustworthy lords, asking that he send a mole or two aboard the Terrasen to keep eyes and ears on young Galathynius.”

“Fuck,” Lorcan groaned. “How the hell?”

“I am familiar with the stupid fucking fears of those in power,” Aelin replied. “Let me assure you of one thing right now. I am not and have never been aiming for the throne.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

“No, I can’t. But I hope your time aboard will convince you.”

“Let me ask you something, Captain. Why the hell would Rolfe suspect you plotting to steal his throne unless he had a reason?”

“Because I am a Galathynius, you idiot.”

Lorcan considered that answer, his mind turning and turning until--“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.” Aelin said dryly. “I’m Rhoe’s daughter.”

“Nobody knew Rhoe even had a kid until you showed up,” Lorcan mused, “and…everyone thinks you’re, well…”

“A man,” Aelin smirked, smug. “I know.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t earned the right to know that.” She folded her hands. “Thank you for confirming what I suspected about your presence here, Salvaterre.” Leaving him in his seat, she walked over to the door and opened a panel in it, snapping her fingers twice.

Before whoever she’d signaled could come to the cabin, though, Lorcan’s hand wrapped around her throat. Obviously, he’d broken out of the chair--its pieces laid on the floor--and freed one hand, the other was still tied to half the chair, which he’d dragged with him. Aelin smothered a proud smirk. Just as she’d expected, Lorcan had finally taken advantage of the way she’d deliberately left his bonds slack enough for this.

“Call off your lieutenant and do as I fucking say,” Lorcan snarled into her ear, pressing his weight against her back.

So Aelin kneed him directly in the groin and as he grunted, surprised, his hold slacked just enough for her to grab his bound arm and flip him onto his back on the floor, another of her daggers at his throat. “Nice try.”

Those words and her smug little smirk were the last thing Lorcan remembered before her hand pinched the juncture of his shoulder and his neck and blackness washed across his vision.

~~~~~~~

TAGS: please let me know if you want to be added/removed!

@charlizeed @cretaceous-therapod @loudphantomdragon @morganofthewildfire @rowanaelinn @story-scribbler @nicolivesinbooks @flora-shadowshine @wesupremeginger @mackenzieclutt @stardelia @maeclin @pen-paper-and-ink @nerdperson524 @claralady @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @julialovebooks @nesgoddessofdeath @gracie-rosee @autumnbabylon @clea-nightingale @shanias-world @mybloodrunsblue @swankii-art-teacher

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowaelin #pirate au #fly the black flag

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handers-time · 3 years

Photo

Hi everyone, hope you’re having a fantastic day! The deadline is passed, and the Handers gift exchange has officially come to an end!

Twenty-nine of you beautiful souls signed up to exchange gifts, and with the aid of a further five participants who contributed treats, we produced a whopping fifty five Handers gifts for each other. The AO3 Anders/Hawke tag - which has existed since 2011 - has a total of 4,213 items posted to it, which means that collectively this fic exchange is a little over one percent (1.31% to be precise) of all Handers items posted over the last ten years. Congratulations all around!

I’ve compiled a list of all the amazing gifts shared over the course of this exchange, but before I share it I just wanted to go through some AOB:

A huge thank you readers, artists, writers, commenters, shy people who left an anonymous kudos and people who ALL CAPSED AT LENGTH on tumblr about a particular gift. It’s people like you who make the Handers fandom a fun, hectic, frequently explicit but mostly supportive environment, and as the exchange moderator, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the enthusiasm. This exchange could not have gone ahead without you and I’d love to thank you all for your hard work, enthusiasm and cheerleading - you’ve made this exchange a joy to run. A round of applause for you - you deserve it!

All that remains is for you to read and enjoy all the badass works of art produced for this exchange - and don’t forget to comment on any gifts you received, as per the rules at the exchange sign-ups: “You must comment on any gift written for you. For a full gift, this should be a comment of at least 3 lines in length. “

Finally, I’d just like to remind you all that the AO3 collection will be open for another two weeks for any additional treats you feel like writing! The prompt list is available here as always.

With that said, here is the list of gifts! Please note all warnings on original AO3 headers.

F!Handers Gifts

Title: The Deep Sea of Sorrow by @noire-pandora for @highwayphantoms (Mature) Summary: "The Siren’s Call "sloshed through the dark teal waves, the water foaming and bubbling around it as the sails bellied under the push of the wind, rushing it away from Kirkwall.

Title: The Dangers of Rosewood by @kittynomsdeplume for @dismalzelenka (Explicit) Summary: Anders closes the rickety door of his clinic, bolting it behind him.

Title: Home by @highwayphantoms for faerieninja1337 (General Audiences) Summary: Hawke realizes she’s bleeding only after the last templar in the room is down.

Title: I'm not a kitten, I need a purramedic by @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold for @dismalzelenka(Explicit) Summary: Anders has had worse days, but fuck if he can remember any of them at the moment.

Title: Pour Away the Ocean by @kittynomsdeplume for @noire-pandora (Teen) Summary: Varric picks his way over the littered shore, the ground strewn with pieces of broken ships and cargo.

Title: Lionheart by @dismalzelenka for @fanfictionamerica (Mature) Summary: Anders idly picks cat hair off of his sleeves and wonders with a wry smile if Kiara would be opposed to taking in a cat.

Title: Sing a Promise of Our Future by @protect-him for @brightningstar(General Audiences) Summary: If choosing to run from Kirkwall with Anders had been easy, living on the run certainly hadn’t been, though Anders made all things easier.

Title: The Silence That Follows by @dismalzelenka for @noire-pandora (Teen) Summary: She left him at Weisshaupt to run an errand.

Title: I Have A (Terrible) Plan by @fanfictionamerica for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (Teen) Summary: “I swear, if they don’t kiss, fuck, or go out on at least one date within the next week, I’m going to lock them in the supply closet until they do,” Fenris seethed, throwing away an empty cup with more vigor than usual.

Title: Collision by @dismalzelenka for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (Explicit) Summary: The end of autumn always came with the scent of fresh hay and bonfires, and Journey thought she could probably appreciate both of those things just fine in another life.

Title: Root and Branch by little-abyss for Headwig1010 (General Audiences) Summary: Soft linen, worn softer still. The tiny stitches, their colour faded now, the shapes they make wrought with precision.

M!Handers Gifts

Title: All you need is love and a cat. Or two or ten by @factorykat for @elfsidian (General Audiences) Summary: Mornings within the estate were a rare beauty; a diamond found amongst the ugliness barely contained by harsh, jet stone walls.

Title: Not Enough Days in Forever by @factorykat for @pinkfadespirit (Mature) Summary: It used to take more effort to fully rouse him from a dead sleep.

Title: Justice is Hard (Art) by @samsnak for @ser-thirst-a-lot (Explicit) Summary: A gift for the wonderful and amazing Ser Thirst A Lot, based on your second prompt! Animated and rendered in Blender Cycles. Hawke, Anders, room, and furniture models extracted by me.

Title: Blood Honey by Headwig1010 for @goth-surana (Teen) Summary: "Just so we're clear, I don't care about magic or mages, just do your jobs for me, quietly, and we'll have no problems, got it?"

Title: Into the Night (art) by @laniardraws for @storybookhawke (Explicit) Summary: Just Anders and Emir Hawke having some quality time together. In Hawke's bedroom. As usual.

Title: The People Will Talk by @goth-surana for @samsnak (General Audiences) Summary: Merrill was more observant than people gave her credit for.

Title: Problems by @thethirdamell for @un-shit-yourself (Mature) Summary: Anders didn’t think about it at first.

Title: Untitled by @factorykat for @midnightprelude (Teen) Summary: It might have been peaceful if it weren’t for the tense silence, the sort that often fell before a terrible calamity, or like the fear-inducing nothingness he used to associate with nights inside the walls of Kirkwall.

Title: Days of Future, Days of Past by little-abyss for @faux-fires Summary: Hawke can’t suppress a laugh, as he looks across the classroom, all the students watching him avidly.

Title: Emir Hawke & Anders Embrace (Art) by @laniardraws for @storybookhawke (Teen) Summary: My second art for @handers-time.

Title: With Bells On by @midnightprelude for @morganlefaye79 (Teen) Summary: Garrett had once thought the hardest part of going on a date with Anders would be asking the man in the first place.

Title: Duet on Ice (Art) by @storybookhawke for @thefoxinboots (General Audiences) Summary: Hawke, an accomplished solo figure skater, gets the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform a duet dance with Anders, a figure skater he's admired from across the rink.

Title: Last Waltz by @pinkfadespirit for @lesetoilesfous (Mature) Summary: The throne room of the Viscount’s Keep had been transformed.

Title: Blood Mage Hawke (Art) by @elfsidian for @verifiedhawke (Teen) Summary: I had sooo much fun drawing this one, thanks y’all for the opportunity!

Title: No Cure (for L'amor) (Art) by @rusted-pipe-of-wisdom for @lesetoilesfous (Teen) Summary: Handers - a dancing AU (spoiler: it's a tango move because of course it is).

Title: Tomorrow by @dismalzelenka for @faux-fires (Teen) Summary: Anders promises himself he isn't going to cry.

Title: Inquisitor!Hawke (Art) by @pinkfadespirit for @factorykat (General Audiences) Summary: What’s that strange glowing mark on Wyatt Hawke’s hand?

Title: Fancy dress (Art) by @laniardraws for @rusted-pipe-of-wisdom (General Audiences) Summary: My extra gift drawn for @handers-time gift exchange. For @rusted-pipe-of-wisdom, who requested Anders in a fancy dress!

Title: Breaking the Bed (Art) by @thefoxinboots for @factorykat (Explicit) Summary: One of the requests was for either an Inquisitor Hawke or Anders AU with the note; "Bonus points if they get to break in that big ass bed in the Inquisitor's chambers lol.", and I ran with it.

Title: What Tomorrow Brings by @brightningstar for @faux-fires (General Audiences) Summary: For Garrett Hawke it was a usual day, like every day until he came back to the estate and saw Anders sitting on the bed in their bedroom they shared since Anders moved in together with Hawke.

Title: Breakfast in Bed (Art) by @kemvee for @morganlefaye79 (General Audiences) Summary: Anders is right about a lot of things. Unfortunately his choice of breakfast cereals leaves something to be desired.

Title: Spread Hawk (Art) by @laniardraws for @ser-thirst-a-lot (Explicit) Summary: If you ask Anders what he's doing, his most frequent answer, beside “fighting for mage rights” and “healing poor in Darktown”, would be “Hawke”

Title: Independence, morning blue and seashell by @morganlefaye79 for @verifiedhawke (General Audiences) Summary: When Hawke woke up, it was already broad daylight and the first day of their 2 weeks vacation.

Title: Darkest Alleys of Kirkwall by @enigmalea for @thefoxinboots (Explicit) Summary: The heavy bass rhythm pounds through his body, deep into his soul; the mass moves with it, undulating wildly, limbs flailing, a hundred or more individuals all swept up in the semi-orgasmic pulsing of light and sound.

Title: Demon!Hawke & Anders (Art) by @verifiedhawke for @rusted-pipe-of-wisdom (Teen) Summary: prompt was for a demon hawke and anders (i went with a rage demon hawke) and a suggestion was them blowing the chantry up together so here we are!

Title: And Be All the Richer for It by @faux-fires for @midnightprelude (Explicit) Summary: Skyhold was a wreck.

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me by @un-shit-yourself for @hollyand-writes (Mature) Summary: The streets of Kirkwall are dangerous.

Title: Someday My Prince Will Come by @hollyand-writes for @thecryoftheseagulls (Explicit) Summary: A/B/O Royalty AU. Anders had lived all his life in a tower.

Title: Broken In Completion by @ser-thirst-a-lot for @un-shit-yourself (Explicit) Summary: A sharp twist of Hawke’s fingers tore another strangled whimper from Anders’ throat.

Title: A Dawn Worth Watching by @dismalzelenka for @pinkfadespirit (Teen) Summary: They parted in the worst of ways with a gulf between them, an endless ocean filled to the brim with a lie heavy enough to drag a man under forever.

NB!Handers Gifts

Title: Stubborn Is As Stubborn Does by @highwayphantoms for Headwig1010 (General Audiences) Summary: The first time Hawke offers to help in the clinic, he doesn’t take them seriously.

Title: Let it be a nightmare! by @morganlefaye79 for @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul (Mature) Summary: “Here, this letter was delivered to me this morning. I thought you might want to read it as soon as possible!”

Title: Keep Reaching Out (I'll Keep Coming Back) by @thecryoftheseagulls for @rainwolfheart (Teen) Summary: Afterwards, Anders only remembers the flight from Kirkwall in pieces.

Title: Whiskers by @rainwolfheart for @protect-him (General Audiences) Summary: Someone left Anders a box of furry little problems. Thankfully, Hawke has a solution.

#mod post #handers gift exchange #dragon age #anders #hawke #handers #m!handers #f!handers #nb!handers

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