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bodyswapmischief · 4 months

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Andrew's Holiday Part 3 (An Interactive Story)

Part 1 Part 2

Andrew stared in awe, shock, and a strange sense of betrayal. "Is this your home?" Oscar sensed Andrew's true emotions despite the awe reflected in his eyes. Worry crept into Oscar as he questioned whether revealing his family's wealth to Andrew was a mistake. "No... Just our winter home." The words slipped out, and Oscar winced in embarrassment, contemplating the impact on their relationship. Would Andrew be intimidated, or worse, would Andrew only like him for the money.

A pit grew in Andrew's stomach as he questioned his decision to come. Anxiety raced through him, filled with doubts and fears. The self-doubt intensified, convincing him he wasn't good enough for Oscar. The voice that had warned him about the relationship echoed loudly. The car halted at the foot of a small stairway, leading to the front door.

Oscar exits the car, grabbing his bag, while Anders, the old man, attempts to assist. "Young Master! I can get those." Oscar declines with a smile of amused annoyance. "I got it, old man... you need to rest." As he gathers his bags and ascends the stairs, Andrew follows suit, still in a state of shock. Upon reaching the entrance, the door swings open, revealing a silver fox of a man with open arms. "Oscar! Welcome home!" he exclaims with a slight accent, resembling an older, more chiseled version of Oscar in his mid-40s. His well-maintained physique shows minimal signs of aging, except for the grey in his hair.

"I'm happy to see you, too... Baba," Oscar says, his face turning red in embarrassment. "Baba, this is Andrew." Oscar's father looks over, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, young man. I've heard you won my son's heart." Andrew blushes at the comment. "Um... I hope so," he responds, reaching for a firm handshake.

Entering the home was another moment of pure disbelief for Andrew. Oscar's father smiles like the entertainer he is. "Oscar, get yourself and Andrew situated, and meet me and your mother for dinner. I've got some things I must do," he says before walking off. "Oh, and we do have guests over..." The words echoed with a sense of hatred.

Oscar led both of them to his bedroom, an oasis from all the extravagant features of the rest of the mansion. The room resembled that of an average, slightly nerdy young man, with the only exception being its unusually large size, spacious enough to be divided into two decent-sized rooms. Video game posters and memorabilia adorned the walls, a large bed occupied one corner, and a gaming setup was arranged against another. Bookshelves and dressers filled up additional space. Andrew made his way to the bed and sat down, silent throughout. Oscar, noticing Andrew's quietness, settled into his gaming chair. "So... what are you thinking?" he asked.

"What the hell, Oscar! What is all of this?! Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Andrew finally exclaimed. Oscar puts his forehead into his hand. "I'm sorry... I should have. I get it's a lot to take in. But, I just want you to know... the me you know at school... that is me. I'm not different or lying to you about anything. Honestly, my dad... all this... it's too much even for me." Oscar sighed.

Andrew sighed back and lifted his head with a smile. "Typical rich boy... 'I have too much money,'" he teased. "I'm not gonna lie, but this is all too much. And, I wish I knew sooner. But, it also explains why I never felt good enough for you. I mean, how could I be?" He let out a laugh, masking the inner sadness.

Oscar stops him. "Hey! Don't say that... you are more than enough. I love you! I'm probably the most real when I'm with you." He moves to the bed and wraps his arm around Andrew. Andrew smiles and leans into Oscar. "You always know what to say... you stupid face." He wipes a bit of wetness from his eye. "And, I guess having a secretly rich boyfriend isn't so bad... now you can be my sugar daddy." He teases. Oscar smiles and shakes his head in response. "I'll be your sugar daddy, but you better start earning your money." He winks and kisses Andrew's cheek. "Maybe you can help wash me up for dinner."

The two men walk into the connected restroom. The bathroom is big in its own right. Unlike the room, the bathroom is obviously made to match the rest of the house. The two stumble into the bathroom as they hold each other. Their faces locked in an intense make-out. Oscar takes off his shirt and moves to take off Andrew's. Both men hands hungrily feel each other up. Andrew takes off his pants and underwear. His cock hard. He kneels down and does the same for Oscar. Oscar's cock springs out and taps Andrew's face. Andrew holds Oscar's cock and sucks the head. Oscar moans out. He picks up Andrew and walks him into the shower. The warm water washes over them and adds a lustful glow to their body. Leaning Andrew against a wall, Oscar guides his cock into Andrew's ass. His arm wraps around and begin to pumps Andrew cock, as his own hips thrust. The two men fuck faster with each pump. The feelings of ecstasy spreeds over them until they both explode in orgasm.

They share smiles and giggles. "Damn, that was good," Oscar sighs in bliss. "Well, I have to keep my sugar daddy happy," Andrew teases. Oscar smiles, saying, "Yeah, but I'm still Oscar... don't treat me differently because of this." Andrew giggles, finding joy in being the one to comfort Oscar now. "I know, just teasing. But I love pushing your buttons, so maybe I won't stop, Daddy Big Bucks," he laughs. Oscar rolls his eyes. The two men finish getting ready and head off for dinner.

#body #swap #transformation #tf #male #male body swap #mischief #gay #stories #story

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high-dragon-bait · 2 years

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Did anybody ask for Solas and Anders banter?

You just did!

God I really just shoved as many headcanons that could feasibly fit into this. I’m so sorry.

Like the Fenris and Solas banter, this takes place post DA2 but during Inquisitions timeline.

___

Anders: You must hate what I did with Justice.

Solas: Why would you think that?

Anders: I took a spirit into my body. Now he’s gone. He’ll never go back to the Fade. I can’t imagine you’re pleased with that.

Solas: I was under the belief you did this to help it. Is the truth you coerced it? Bound it and forced it to be one with you?

Anders: No. Never. He was my friend.

Solas: Then I fail to see where I would draw my judgement.

Anders: It was unnatural.

Solas: Only by your understanding of nature.

____

Solas: I am glad to meet another counting spirits among their friends.

Anders: Just the one spirit. And it’s not as if we’re talking much these days.

Solas: I’d argue you’re always talking in some ways.

Anders: I miss him sometimes. The Justice I knew before.

Solas: I’m not sure I understand.

Anders: Justice, when I met him he was different.

Solas: I’m sorry, I’m still confused. How could it have been different?

Anders: He was kinder, before he... met my anger.

Solas: You believe your anger effected it? Changed a spirit of Justice?

Anders: What else could it have been?

Solas: Justice is fluid, just as wisdom, hope, and valor are fluid. The justice you seek against the templars is different than the justice a Grey Warden seeks against the darkspawn. Indeed, even the child crying at her mother after a sister steals her favorite toy is seeking justice.

Solas (Cont.): Justice simply became the force you always sought.

Anders: That still sounds like I changed him.

Solas: One could argue change is all Justice is.

____

Solas: I saw you healing a scout in the yard, Anders. He looks well, but I must admit I’ve never seen healing magic such as yours before.

Anders: I made a lot of it up.

Solas: I’m sorry?

Anders: You aren’t taught healing in the circle, no more than you’d need to heal a templar’s burn. Maybe some are, if they’re obedient enough to stop when the Knight Commander says they’ve done enough.

Solas: Forgive me, I may know less of the Circle than I thought. Why wouldn’t they teach such vital magic?

Anders: Think about it. A healer holds the life of another in their hands. A real healer could bring a man back from the edge of the void, but all the Chantry sees is how much power that gives to a mage.

Solas: So your skills you had to learn on your own?

Anders: I experimented. Improvised. I tested new ideas on myself first of course. Turns out being Hawke’s friend offers more opportunities than the Wardens.

Solas: I was aware of the limitations the Chantry places on magic, but that seems...

Anders: Monstrous?

Solas: Bluntly, yes.

Anders: The Chantry doesn’t care how many people it kills to keep mages caged. “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” Words twisted to doom us all.

____

Anders: Is it possible for Justice and I to be separated?

Solas: No.

Anders: Couldn’t live without my head, I guess.

Solas: Even that example is too separate. A head can be removed from the body, however messy the process. To separate you and Justice… it would be like trying to take water from rain, light from the sun. What are you even seeking to remove?

Anders: Is it- strange to find that comforting?

Solas: Not at all.

____

Solas: It is not so unnatural, your merger with Justice.

Anders: I guess you could argue possessions are natural.

Solas: Even possessions were not always seen as you know them today.

Anders: What do you mean?

Solas: There has always been the tragedy of a mortal mind breaking against the corrupted nature of a spirit. But what you’ve done, joining your soul with a spirit, was a practice known among the ancient elves.

Anders: Elves... allowed themselves to be possessed?

Solas: A talented scholar may ask to be with one with a spirit of wisdom. While a devoted priest may beg an embodiment of faith. Such joinings were rare, but only because a spirit will not join with one that will harm its nature. For it to accept meant your drive was true, and for that it was seen as a great honor.

Anders: I can’t tell you how badly I wish I could see this world.

Solas: They were called the somnlin. The Blood of Dreams. Our deepest passions given flesh. Justice believed in you, Anders. It still does.

Anders: I... thank you.

____

Solas: What you did in Kirkwall, I understand.

Anders: There are days now when I’m not sure I do.

Solas: There come times when an action is necessary, but we as mortals can only guess what action that may be, along the consequences it will carry.

Solas (Cont.): We cannot predict who it will truly help nor who it will hurt, even if we believe we do. All we can do is choose to act, or choose to wait and hope another will do so in our stead.

Anders: I had waited too long already.

Solas: And the bravery enough to admit it is a rare gift indeed.

____

(Bonus because it’s a radically different tone from the rest)

Solas: Is it true you escaped the circle seven times?

Anders: I like to say ten, but apparently it doesn’t count if they find you within the first half-hour.

Solas: You’ll have to tell me the stories soon.

Anders: Really I’d like your stories. An apostate all your life, surely you must’ve dodged a few templars.

Solas: Not so I’m afraid.

Anders: Really? Your whole life, not a single templar on your ass?

Solas: I have been asleep for most of it.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 2 #Dragon Age Inquisition #Solas #Fake Banter #DAI #I think I've picked at this as much as I could #Anders still sounds kinda shaky. mans is hard i can't explain it

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nanomooselet · 3 months

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My Brother's Keeper (III)

So, what's the big difference between Knives and Wolfwood that leads to such disaster? Why, it's the same as the difference between Vash and Meryl. The one which meant Zazie singled out Meryl despite her relative powerlessness.

Agency.

And more than that.

Wolfwood has been forced to represent Knives. But he has far more in common with Vash - similarities which, unfortunately, extend to both being victims of Knives's abuse.

The Eye of Michael took Wolfwood from his home because he did well on a test he couldn't have consented to, chemically mutilated him, hurt him when he tried to escape, mocked and belittled him, and used Livio as a hostage to coerce him into being their hatchet-man. Now everything that was ever good in his world depends on him doing what they want, and he can't trust them to keep their word on that anymore.

Hell, Nick's place in the Hopeland Orphanage (earmarked as a storehouse for potential EOM subjects), being likely born S+ chemically compatible, even being orphaned young and poor (and thus being taken in by an orphanage) all meant he was denied a say in his future, long before he was even aware he had one. Almost every major event in his life has been dictated by things he couldn't control, and by now he's resigned to it, just as Vash is resigned to shouldering blame and punishment for everything that Knives does (supposedly) because of him. Wolfwood's been made into the Punisher, and the Punisher is a weapon. He is wielded by another, as Vash is himself often used and fought over.

When in the position of putting aside punishment to protect what they love most, Wolfwood discards his weapon/shield to take the agony of sacrifice upon himself, just as Vash has always done.

Knives, though... Okay. Fair warning. I've seen it said that Vash "maintains the status quo" while Knives "fights for the oppressed". Now, Knives really is one of my favourites; I wouldn't have examined him so closely if he wasn't. But I don't even remotely share that assessment of the situation.

(And if this seems an excessive amount of attempted placation, I can only say that I'm a long-term BioWare fan who frankly never liked or trusted Garrus Vakarian or Anders, so being skittish about voicing criticism of the fandom boyfriend has become a habit.)

Orange were far, far nicer than I would have been when they said Knives isn't a villain. Or rather, I think when they said they prefer "nuance and complexity" to boiling a character down to merely "villain", that was taken to be a much more positive description of Knives than they intended it to be. They did give Knives nuanced and complex motivations. But they do not mean he is truthful, objective, rational, or morally superior to his victims.

I don't think Knives is the blade and liberator of the downtrodden he names himself. Not even of the Plants. He's something more horrifying and more hateful.

Knives, you see, actively seeks out power. He's motivated above all by a desire for authority, superiority, dominance and control. There are a lot of shots where he stands above - particularly above Vash, who's often kneeling before him. His followers call him "lord". Conrad tells Legato they need forgiveness from Wolfwood, but the one he actually begs for it is Knives. That's exactly what Knives wants. It means he's strong.

To Knives, possessing power and being in power means he's right. He's safe. He can't be controlled as long as he is in control (he cannot be victim as long as he is perpetrator). He's the shadow ruler of the most powerful and wealthy of the seven cities, which practices eugenicist control of its population. He controls the July military police, who carry missile launchers, drive armoured vehicles, and are pointedly demonstrated to be both brutal and deeply corrupt. He steals (or "liberates from oppression") Plants from remote communities like Jeneora Rock, which even before he arrived had no clean drinking water, while July is explicitly described as having a "monopoly" on the sale and distribution of water-producing Plants (they also manufacture and sell weapons). He deliberately sows misinformation and lies to (among other things) persecute and exert control over his brother, who is thus branded a dangerous fugitive and subject to constant violence and pursuit. He founded a religion that glorifies death and preys upon even those like the Windmill Village, who didn't rely on Plants for anything and yet were driven away or slaughtered to the last.

After Knives crashed the ships, he took it on himself to build a new system. This one installed him in a position to exploit the disadvantaged and powerless, these disgusting parasites, for his own ends. All the while making plans to wipe them out - because as he conceptualises the world, it will make what he loves (what belongs to him) as safe and as pure and as perfect as himself. He made himself into a weapon that only he will ever wield. And he wields himself against those who have no way to meaningfully fight back, who have no way even to understand what it is that he so despises them for.

Knives never makes sacrifices. He demands them. Someone else always has to take the blame. Someone else always has to suffer the consequences. Often that someone is Vash, often it's the other Plants, often it's humans - and always it's Rem, even though Rem is dead and has been for a century and a half.

It can't be Knives. He's never to blame. Yet everything that Knives has become, he's chosen to be. Still he refuses to accept any responsibility or compromise, anything that might lead to him being vulnerable. Even as those he claims to protect are ruined as a result of his negligence and cruelty.

Not wanting to kill anyone… that's just a coward's idealism. Even a kid could tell you that. Folks only get to live 'cause other people die. That's the world we live in. I don't have the luxury of being afraid to make tough decisions. I have to choose in order to protect the things that are dear to me.

Very nice speech, beautifully staged and affecting (also though Wolfwood is delivering it to Vash, it's for the benefit of Meryl, as she checks the derringer is loaded, trying to keep her hands steady). But… what choice besides killing has there been for Wolfwood? He took Livio in as his brother and all that did was make Livio a target as well.

It was Vash who actually gave him a choice.

No, what's coming out of Wolfwood's mouth is dogma of the Eye of Michael. Wolfwood is doing what Knives would do, will do, has done from the very start and has spent every moment of his life furiously trying to justify ever since: paying in blood for the safety of him and his, telling himself it's the only way.

What makes Wolfwood different from Knives in this instance is that he actually bothered listening when Vash talked, then trusted him at least to try and do what he could. And that means the justification, for Wolfwood, is falling pitifully short. He owes everything to Vash's kindness. He knows Vash isn't naïve, or a coward, or childish, or weak. Vash embodies a hope he's never known before in his life, and Wolfwood can no longer convince himself surrendering to despair and complacency is the right thing to do. Not if there's a choice.

He doesn't believe there is one. Belief isn't for him. He's no priest. He's just an undertaker.

But given that, if that's what he is, then... maybe…

There's no way to return his humanity./That monster was not the kid you knew.

You don't, by any chance, think you can make up with Millions Knives, do you?/When you get to Knives, you aren't stupid enough to think you two can just talk this thing out, are ya?

Do you think sacrificing yourself will make everyone happy?/Think sacrificing yourself will make us little guys happy?

Wolfwood... Wolfwood knows. What Vash can't accept. What Knives really is. Has personally been subject to Knives's handiwork, been Knives's instrument going to and fro on the earth, and walking up and down in it. You know what? This time, Knives should be the one to make a sacrifice. After a lifetime of spouting bullshit and ruling absolute over a world that because of him, demands either sacrifice or death, it might finally be his turn. If Wolfwood can convince Vash to make him take it.

But of all the fucking times for Vash to dig in his fucking heels, of course it had to be over this.

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part IV)

(Part V)

(Part VI)

(Part VII)

#please don't be mad #trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #also this is actually why wolfwood wears black and red #well one of the reasons #millions knives #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #meta: my brother's keeper

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bruciemilf · 2 years

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I think my favorite JayKori dynamic that I've seen is not only Jason being down bad, but every single one of his siblings as well. God forbid this man bring her to the Manor, because he won't get to spend even five minutes with her.

Dick sweetly offers to propose to her because "If Jason's too much of a coward to do it, I don't mind taking initiative 😊"

Cass makes a PowerPoint about how why she should date Kori instead of Jason and sits both of them down to present it. Steph writes a paper and passes out a pamphlet with the summary of the presentation. It has statistics, at least thirty slides is them asking for just one chance, please, includes why Jason doesn't deserve her, and has at least three compliments on every slide. It takes eight hours to present, and Kori is impressed by their dedication and very flattered. Jason is murderous.

Tim isn't outright, but he's unusually nice to her. Like this boy is an snarky on the best of days, it's how he shows his affection, but when it comes to Kori? Nothing but compliments. He could call Damian a waste of space and in the same breath, ask Kori what perfume she's using because "you smell so nice! I mean you always smell nice, but this is a new scent, right?"

Damian's blatant about it. It's always, "when is her next visit?" and "why does Todd have to visit with her?" and demanding her attention at every turn. Nobody has heard him so much as breathe a bad word about her, and threatens anyone who does

Jason is seething and threatens his family with violence every time this happens. Kori thinks it's adorable.

HONESTLY it's just inexplicably cute to me. You're very very right, -- that saying " if you marry a man, you marry his family" is almost never sang positively, but if you're Kori Anders? It very, very much is.

Not to mention, -- the batfamily very rarely has the chance to witness the tough guy mask slip off Jason's face. They've only seen him be sappy with Bruce and Alfred. They never would've thought sugar was his favourite taste till Kori came along.

I do love Damian being a protective baby brother, thought; First things first, predominantly, he's in a state of numb shock. He's like 8. He doesn't understand romance that much, or how it works, or how it makes you act.

" Is Todd sick?"

" Mentally or morally? Cause yes to both."

" No, - Koriand'r purchased a strawberry dress and he passed out when he saw her wear it. Is he allergic to her?" Dick laughs and says oh no, he's worse. He's in LOVE.

More so, he just doesn't understand! Scientifically speaking, opposites do attract, but parallel lines don't. They're a mathetimatical equation he just doesn't understand.

Kori is sugar pink and cotton smile and honey fire. Jason is rough hands and sharp smirks and sun hot temper. And they shouldn't work but -- they....Do?

Damian is a protective little brother. I love the image of him " testing" Kori before he took to her. Like, he's just handing her the most ominous liquid and is like can you drink this? I have a school report.

And Kori very much wants his approval so she downs it up, " Of course, little star!"

Damian writes down Immune to poison. A valuable quality.

His good intentions don't phase Jason at all; He just hears his little worm of a brother poisoned his sunshine gf and he marches into the manor, stomps right over to Damian while trying to unlock his helmet with angry hands " Did you poison my FUCKING girlfriend-"

" It was a test. Todd, Todd it was a test --, IT WAS A TEST, TODD, --"

#he hides behind bruce like jason won't pick him up like a garden gnome sjsjsjs #jaykori #jason todd #koriand'r #damian wayne #jason x kori #asks

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chronurgy · 5 months

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10 characters, 10 fandoms

Thanks for the tag @rowanisawriter!

Tagging: @weavewithshadow, @bhaalsbabe, anyone else who wants to play!

Oooo this is going to be hard because I tend to get really into multiple characters from the same thing, but let's go! In no particular order:

1. Essek Thelyss - Critical Role

He's a war criminal. He's a prodigy. He's a traitor. He's a time and gravity wizard. He's a heretic in a theocracy where his mother is a living saint. He floats everywhere instead of walking. When the gang asks if they're going to have to kill him, he laughs and says "I'd like to see you try". He crushes someone to death with gravity simply by closing his fist. "My reasons [for treason] weren't good, but they were important". He goes from not having cared about anyone in 120 years to caring so much about a bunch of weirdos in like, 6 weeks. He made his father so mad during an argument that the guy stormed off and died. What's not to love? He makes me so insane.

Honorable mention: Caleb Widogast

2. Anders - Dragon Age

My favorite chaotic bisexual disaster man. The contrast between awakening anders and da2 anders is so fascinating for me. He's this carefree guy, except he isn't really that carefree, is he? He escapes over and over and over, swimming across the lake even. He hates the circle and hates the Templars just as much, he's just funnier about it. When you start adding up the year in solitary, Karl, the fact that he must have seen all the injuries in the circle as a spirit healer, it starts becoming very clear why he is the way he is. He also sucks! He's petty, he's mean, and he's so up his own ass about how right he thinks he is about everything. But he also runs a clinic for the poorest of the poor, dodging Templars and freeing mages all the while. He does the excellent wizard hubris thing of taking the future into his own hands, even if it kills people (suck my nuts elthina). He loves a romanced Hawke so much, even as he experiences this greater calling. Plus Grey wardens are cool as hell and he loves cats.

Honorable mention: mage!Hawke

3. Merlin - BBC Merlin

This show manages to be both ridiculous and sad. Merlin is such a happy go lucky, cheerful character at the beginning, then we watch as things just keep getting worse. He cannot seem to win. By the end, that cheerfulness seems much closer to a mask he's desperately clinging to than anything else. He's an expert liar and manipulator, he's a killer, and he's so, so alone. If he ever tells anyone that he's a sorcerer, he'll be executed. And he lives in the shadow of that for years, unable to be himself even with the people he's closest to. Also characters who have their eyes change colors when using their powers my beloved.

4. Daenerys Targaryen - ASOIAF

I love her chapters - there's so much interesting and human depth to her struggles (even when her struggles are fantastical). She struggles to know how to rule, and rule well. She takes hostages but loves them too much to kill them. She struggles to create and maintain a peace for her people even as that peace asks things of her she cannot bear. She worries what it says about her that her children are monsters and she both loves and fears them. She desperately wants a simple, loving life but is also so, so doomed to never have that. She's a queen and a dragon rider and a young woman trying to understand the world. She's great. (I don't care about the tv show I'm talking books here)

Honorable mentions: Jon Snow, Cersei Lannister

5. Gale Dekarios - Baldur’s Gate

Oh yeah, another hubris wizard. He's funny and has this easy, good natured charm that makes it possible to ignore that he's an absolute FREAK. He's got one of my favorite wizard traits - a strong ends justify the means streak. He points, very genteelly, at all the ways power and knowledge drive and corrupt. He's a sweetheart but he brags all the time. Except it isn't bragging, because he can back it up. He can really, genuinely, become a god. His relationship with the dark urge also makes me insane, because I think in some ways he's both the clearest eyed about what will happen to them and the one most willing to meet them where they are and also desperately wants to believe they're a good person, even when it's clear that they aren't. His line about how their life is no longer theirs to lead, only to follow to a dark urge who embraces Bhaal is incredible. The diverging paths of who he can become over the course of the game are fascinating and there's so much depth to him. He's great. Oh, he also excuses his cat's crimes. Love that in a man.

Honorable mentions: Enver Gortash, The Dark Urge

6. Camilla Hect - The Locked Tomb

She's the most composed, controlled, meticulous batshit fucking crazy woman in the world. Unstoppable force vibes. Instead of moving on after her necromancers death she pieced together tiny fragments of his skull and then shared her body with him. She's a genius and she can't let go of her insanely codependent relationship, even when it kills her (but honestly Paul seems pretty cool and I'm excited to learn more about them)

Honorable mention: Palamedes Sextus

7. The Jovial Contrarian - Fallen London

A little more niche, this one! I sometimes find that characters in fallen london can sort of pale in interest compared to the overall lore and happenings, but the Jovial Contrarian is one of my favorites. He loves arguing and will argue with anyone about anything at any time. If you have regular debating lessons with him, people will hide behind couches rather than face you. He's part of the calendar council and hates the masters but also wants a solution that isn't the liberation of the night. Anytime his name is mentioned you know you're about to read something ridiculous. Fun guy!

Honorable mentions: Poor Edward (incredibly narsty. great villain), The Eagle, Ascendant (they have like, 3 lines of lore and they're all fantastic)

8. Midna - Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

I remember playing twilight princess for the first time and I just immediately fell in love with Midna. She's snarky, she's mean, her design is cool as hell, and I really loved her arc as she grew to really care about people over the course of the game. She remains firmly the best Zelda companion in my mind.

9. Elim Garak - Star Trek

You always knew it was going to be a great episode when Garak showed up. He always feels 30 seconds from chewing on the scenery and it is fantastic. He's an exiled spy and maybe a little bit of a monster and he never pretends otherwise. His lines to Sisko in "In the Pale Moonlight," telling him that he must have known what Garak would do, and that if the price of winning the war is Sisko's self respect then he'd call that a bargain are some of my favorite in an episode that already has a lot of really good lines. Aw man I wanna watch DS9 now.

Honorable mentions: Julian Bashir, Captain Picard, Tasha Yar (but wasn't she lame and poorly written? Yes. But young me was extremely taken with this aggressive short-haired woman for reasons I could not articulate at the time 🥴)

10. Morgan Yu - Prey (2017)

Okay so if you haven't played Prey stop reading right now and go buy it. Don't look up any spoilers or plot or anything just do it. If you liked dishonored or deathloop you'll love it. Now: who IS Morgan Yu? Who WAS Morgan Yu? Are they even the same person any more? How culpable are they? How culpable were they? Part of the reason Morgan is so endlessly fascinating to me is because we'll never know. How integral are memories to the continuity of the self? Why did you do what you did? Did you, the person standing here right now, even do it? The game just delivers gut punch after gut punch to Morgan and I love it and I love them (whoever they might have been).

Overall honorable mentions: the outsider from dishonored, garrus from mass effect, vimes and vetinari from discworld, and all my dnd characters (shout out especially to Hermès Montclair who fucked a dragon, died (unrelated to said dragon fucking), then came back wrong and fucked the dragon again! No one's doing it like you baby)

#Ask games #Thanks for tagging me I had a lot of fun!#Picking just one character from each thing was soooooooo hard

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sweetmage · 1 year

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For writing DA2 Anders (this got long I'm sorry):

It's important to remember that with DA2 Anders, he's not just Anders. While I'm of the opinion that Justice should still be counted as a separate entity than Anders, they're in each other's brains, feeling each other's feelings, thinking each other's thoughts, essentially. Look at Awakening Anders and Justice's dialogue (when they're separated). Then look at DA2 Anders' dialogue - yes, it's very similar to how he is in Awakening, but there's one or two lines where Justice's manner of speaking leaks in: not using a contraction where Anders pre-merge may have, for example. See at the Bone Pit: "Generations of slaves died in that mine. I can still hear their cries for justice." It sounds like a very Justice remark to me.

Anders in DA2 is also a lot less likely to deflect with humour. He's not here to be likeable, he doesn't rely on being likeable for his own safety like he did in Awakening. If he's being funny or charming, that's all just him in DA2. This also means he's a lot more likely to be a petty, argumentative bitch. He's also not the most tactful person ever. With Justice, he feels safe enough to be an ass, he feels safe enough to have people dislike him. As a bit of a contrast to this, he's also fundamentally the kindest of the DA2 companions. He's a man of contradictions lmao. His sense of humour is also dorky as shit when it is used.

He also VERY rarely makes his points about mage rights personal to him. It's always about other mages, what he's SEEN happen rather than what has happened TO HIM. In Awakening, he mentions his time in solitary, he mentions that he was kicked in the head to wake him up - though he does brush off those experiences with jokes. In DA2, Anders never mentions what happened to him. He outright contradicts things he said in Awakening with Sebastian by saying that he was never beaten, and I personally put that up to him not wanting to be that vulnerable - it's about the cause, it's about the principle of the thing. I think to him, if he made it about abuses he was personally subject to it would diminish his arguments.

In terms of romance, he's all in, 100%, no holding back. He loved Karl, he tried to keep that love on the low down, and Karl still died because of it - ergo, Anders is sick of hiding. He's dramatic and devoted because he knows what it's like to lose someone and never be able to tell them how he really feels. While he will always put his cause before a partner, there's not much else that comes before them, if that makes sense. "You are the most important thing in my life - but some things are more important than my life" etc etc.

Last point - he's a still a slut. I say this with the utmost affection. While he's not outwardly hitting on other companions like he was in Awakening (he's busy, and I think his self esteem has taken a hit), he still throws innuendo around, and he obviously doesn't care if other people are there when he describes his damsel-in-distress kink to Hawke in depth in MoTA.

THANK YOU SO MUCH, YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!! I would love to put a ring on this informative response and marry it. Some others have mentioned in the reblogs and elsewhere that they also struggle with writing him so hopefully this will be of use to them too! I will put my more specific thank you's under the cut since it's long ^^

The very first section is SUPER helpful! I think that certainly was part of what was tripping me up when I went to study certain scenes, especially those with heightened negative emotions (which are most relevant to my current WIP). My biggest struggle thus far has been nailing down his cadance, level of formality, what sort of words he tends to use, etc. and, as such, studying high-emotion scenes where Justice's style of speaking is more likely to emerge really muddied my ability to study him. Though I have seen clips and I know how Anders's story plays out in it, I haven't actually played Awakening yet (should be in a few days when I finish DAO!) but I don't mind the spoilers so I'll be sure to go ahead now and watch some more clips to nail down their respective voices! :D Honestly, I think doing so will solve at least 85% of my problems lol. Additionally, thank you especially for this portion too:

He also VERY rarely makes his points about mage rights personal to him.

That helped me solve another issue I didn't even realize I was having. I kind of subconsciously picked up on this I suppose (I never had him make it about himself or just the people he personally knows in my current WIP) but this helped me to go back and place extra emphasis on those lines which really helped build the mood and tone. The romance portion I feel lines up with a very big theme/conflict in my current WIP so it is so nice to have a reference written out like that that I can refer back to! :) And of course, his kinkiness will certainly find a place among my other fics lol 😌

Thank you again for taking the time to write this out for me! I have always struggled with subtext, analyzing characters, etc. Even when I pick up on things subconsciously I cannot for the life of me put words to them or identify them well enough to go and do further study/implement them elsewhere so having this all written out helps A TON! 💗

#lore and refs #dragon age #anders #dragon age 2

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darethshirl · 1 year

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solas exchange fics!!

this post is criminally late omg but I finally got around to it! This was by far the most fun I’ve ever had with an exchange (not to toot our own horn lmao) and there were so many many many beautiful works created that I’m gonna rec more fics than usual!

My gifts:

strike a match (whisper my name) by @dreadfutures (Solas & Dorian, 8500 words, T rated)

Blood magic. Blight magic. Time magic.

From the earliest troubles of the Inquisition, it is clear that the topics are intertwined, and Dorian is determined to tease it all out. He is, after all, the brightest thaumaturge Minrathous has seen in an Age.

If only Solas would recognize the fact, they might truly get somewhere.

A Dorian pov that’s both delightful and makes you feel things 🥺🥺 Dorian is so very clever, and pushes back juuust enough to get some fun reactions from Solas 👀👀 Also this fic follows them both through-out the inquisition AND afterwards, so that was Fun 👀

Fen'Harel and the Halla by sweaterghost (Fen’harel & Ghilan’nain, 2500 words, T rated)

Reality seems to break, as if Ghilan’nain has torn it apart with her hands.

The new creature emerges from that break as if born, bloody and panting on the floor of Ghilan’nain’s laboratory.

And it is horrible.

Or: Solas remembers his friendship with Ghilan'nain and how it fell apart. Told in vignettes.

Some G L O R I O U S horror happening in this fic 👀👀👀👌👌👌Beautiful and dark and visceral, this was everything I could have ever hoped for in a Ghilan’nain fic 👌 gimme more cold pitiless mad scientist Ghil please and thank you

My offering:

shed all your layers (Anders & Solas, 4300 words, T rated)

When Anders returns blearily to consciousness the first thing he sees is the earthy ceiling of a cave, badly illuminated by a nearby campfire. The second thing he sees, when he turns his head, is a pair of luminescent eyes staring right at him.

“Maker!” Anders jerks upright, scrambling for his staff. His magic flares up in a sputtering, flimsy barrier. “What the—who the hell are you?”

The pair of eyes belongs to an elven man, crouching next to Anders, wearing traveler’s clothes and a neutral, calm expression. “Good. I see your body has recovered,” he says, evidently unfazed by both the shouting and the magic. He rises up—and up, and up; this stranger is tall—and turns back towards his campfire. “Do try not to make any more sudden movements though.”

—

Two hermits, carrying their own secrets, stumble upon each other.

well!! I don’t have anything to say about this other that I had an enormous amount of fun writing it! 😂 I never knew how much I wanted these two to snipe at eachother until I had it. Also while Justice wasn’t a significant enough presence to merit his own tag, his ghost haunts the narrative the entire time

special shoutouts to:

where all roads lead by @apostacism/wilderferns (Solas/Female Lavellan, 10000 words, T rated)

"Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance."

Solas means to stay away. It would be easier in the long run. Yet he turns ever back to her, chasing in dreams what he cannot have in reality.

one of the most AMAZING!!!! solavellan fics I’ve read in ages!!! like seriously if you like this ship and you read nothing else on this list PLEASE give this one a try, it’s so lyrically beautiful and a PERFECT Solas characterisation and honestly I’m still reeling from this fic, it’s gonna be living rent-free on my mind pretty much permanently from now on 👌

The Eyes of Gods by @edda-grenade/apfelgranate (Mythal & Solas, 2000 words, T rated)

Pride has grown in power from a mere spirit, in serving as the All-Mother’s messenger. Mythal thinks it should keep growing, but Pride has reservations.

gorgeous gorgeous prose, very atmospheric and evocative and, for the lack of a better term, Mythological TM. Also Solas’s depiction as a spirit in this is one of the best I’ve seen!

Celestine Black by @queenaeducan/theharellan (Josephine & Solas, 2400 words, G rated)

Though Skyhold's guests may be of noble blood, their manners often leave much to be desired. When one insults the Inquisition's resident magical expert, who just so happens to be an apostate, Josephine takes it upon herself to remedy the situation. In typical Montilyet fashion.

as always this author delivers pure gold! a very thoughtful and careful character study both of Josephine and of Solas as seen though her clever eyes. Delightful!

in our eternity, only darkness reigns by @rosella-writes (Dirthamen & Solas, 2000 words, T rated)

Solas accompanies the Inquisitor to the Lost Temple of Dirthamen. The experience digs up old memories Solas had nearly forgotten.

SUCH a good, dark atmosphere in this one! Also the Solas Angst TM is unparalleled 👌👌 read this if you want to feel the crushing weight of an unchaning, uncaring world lol

AND ALRIGHT this post is already getting too long so I’m gonna really really super quickly mention some other fics I liked: this Alistair & Solas fic (seeing Solas though a stranger eyes is swiftly becoming my favourite trope ever, and Alistair’s voice here is absolutely fantastic), this Zevran/Solas fic (the flirting!! my god 🥰), this Iron Bull/Solas fic (soulmates au but make it HURT 👌) and this solavellan fic (super ambitious, super intriguing, super pretty!)

okay I’m done!! whoof! also seriously just check the rest of the collection cause SO MANY of the works we got were gorgeous and I only talked about less than half of them!!! go see them for yourself!! and thank you to everyone who participated 🥰🥰🥰

#my writing #solas #anders #dorian #josephine

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literally-just-there · 4 months

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hai! 👋 I'm too curious to pass up this opportunity sooo ;

👀

^ I love how big emojis get in the askbox for no reason so much lmao. 😂🤣

Hello fellow fan of emojis-that-get-frickin-big-by-default :)

Here is a snippet from the unfinished, untitled and unpolished chapter 2 of my fic The Seeker's Chronicles :

"May I use the phone ?"

The ticket seller jumps in his seat, in a way that would appear almost comical if it were not for the dire situation. His wide eyes lock onto the woman in front of him, before they close as he breathes out in relief, finding the beloved mayor's assistant a much more welcoming sight than the cloaked redhead with menacing glowing eyes.

“O- Of course, Mrs Darlington, go ahead…”

She quickly thanks him, and goes to dial a number, the movements of her fingers quick and efficient. After a short moment, a brief sigh of exhaustion can be heard, followed by the grave voice of a man.

"Hello ?"

She speaks urgently, "Mayor Smallcat, good evening."

"Good evening Helen, what is the matter ? I thought you were at the magic show with Mr Darlington ?"

"I am or, well… the show's been cut short."

"Cut short ? Whatever do you mean ?"

She sighs, "To put it simply, the magician was some kind of… dark sorcerer in disguise. He made several young women disappear, I think he stole their souls…"

"He— Their souls ?!" he cries out. "Dear god, are you alright ?!"

"I am, but Miss Anders was among the victims though…"

"I am sorry, Helen…"

"Mayor Smallcat, there is something else."

"What is it ?" he asks. His voice appeared to have aged several years in seconds.

"Right after those events, a young woman showed up. She doesn't seem to remember who she is."

"A young woman ? Do you know her ?"

"No. I don't remember ever seeing her in town either."

"Never ? Did you notice anything particularly unusual about her ?"

“Unusual is the right word sir. She is not dressed like a lady at all, and resembles some kind of adventurer. She also carries a roll of parchment with her, and refuses to let go of it.”

"A roll of parchment ? What does it say ?"

"I don't know, she keeps it closed in her hand, she is almost clinging onto it for dear life."

"I see… anything else?"

"Well, she helped me find some clues about what happened, she was very fast at finding them… Maybe she's some kind of investigator ?"

A pause.

"Good at finding things you say ?" he says with a pensive tone.

"Yes ?"

"Could you bring her to the city hall, please ? I would like to have a word with her."

#asks 💌#gates wips 📓#moot {kuroh 🪶}#wip #writing wip #seekers notes fic #seekers notes

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stars-and-cows · 4 months

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Previous || Next

"The guilt" part 2

"Lord?" Shima repeated, not sure of what the creature was talking about.

The blue haired man scoffed, but he was met with the creature's threatening glare. The man tried to not look intimidated but he definitely was.

"Yes, my lord, I was summoned by you, weren't I?" It looked rather non harmful when it was on its knees. Well mostly because this way Shima didn't see its claws or sharp teeth.

"You don't say?" The blue haired man yelled, sarcastically.

His face was all bloody and so was the ice he was held to the wall with. This whole sight makes Shima want to vomit. But she also felt secure. He can't hurt her anymore. Well at least she hoped so.

The creature tried to ignore his comments and didn't even look behind it. But the man continued.

"Also why would you call a mere commoner girl a lord. Shouldn't you use this title on me instead?" He said. Shima finally understood. She knew who the man was, but before she could say it out loud to confirm it, the creature cut her off

"You think you're higher than God!?" It said, with its head still looking down. It was desperately trying to hold the kneeling pose but the man's words seemed to throw it out of balance.

Everyone went silent for at least a couple of minutes. The creature definitely didn't expect that answer. And neither did Shima.

"I mean... Kind of?"

"Shard... Shard Ander?" Shima finally managed to duke out.

This whole situation was so absurd she wasn't worried about anything anymore. Like the whole situation from before with... The summoning, just disappeared. But she wanted it to stay like that. She didn't want to remember.

"So common folk heard about me" The man, or Shard as it was his name, smirked. He was so full of himself it even started to irritate Shima.

But where it only started to play on Shima's nerves, it broke the camel's back for the creature.

"How dare you call the God common folk!? Do you not even have an ounce of respect for your creator? No, scratch that. The creator of everything!?" The creature stood up and turned around to stand face to face with Shard.

"She's not a God" Shard pointed out and before the creature could answer, Shima joined in

"I'm not a God"

The creature looked at Shard, at Shima, at Shard and at Shima again. It seemed rather confused.

"So God is humble, is that what it is?" Shima sighed from defeat and Shard only rolled his eyes.

"Who are you, actually?" Shard asked "I never saw a thing like you anywhere"

"I'm not a thing! I'm Mint!" The creature answered.

"So you're not an 'it'?" Shima asked, now a bit sad that she was practically insulting Mint in her head by saying 'it' all the time.

"I'm a 'they'" Shima and Mint looked at Shard who was still up in the air.

"Insufferable! You're not permitted to ask for any of my pronouns while I'm here stuck here, to this wall!"

"Fair" Mint rolled their eyes. But instead of helping Shard out, they turned around and started walking away.

Shima was puzzled by this whole exchange. She knew she was just running away from the man minutes ago but now... She wanted to get to know him. If it's all true, if he's really Shard, then she had a ton of questions for him. Of course she would prefer to meet Key, the hero of the story, but sometimes you need to appreciate what you have.

"You're not going to... Help him get down?" Shima found courage in herself to ask while Shard nodded along.

"Why would I? He's going to kill you!" Mint pointed out. Aptly.

"No I won't!? You know how stupid of a suicide that would be?"

"Why? Because then I would kill you?"

"No, because... Ugh! We can't hurt her or else we are the ones who are also going to hurt ourselves"

Mint and Shona looked at him with confusion. But only a few seconds after, Shima ran up to pick up the book and started to riffle through the pages again.

"Whatever happens to her, happens to us." He explained once again, using simpler language.

Shima looked up to see a scar on his knee and cheek, just like hers. They weren't that visible because of all the blood that apparently came from his nose, but they were definitely there.

"So what about your nose?" Mint asked "I'm pretty much sure I broke it, but here the lord is..."

"Don't call me lord"

"...All safe and sound!" They ignored her.

"I guess it doesn't go both ways" Shard shrugged.

Shima finally found a page titled "Damage share clause", the symbol on it was also glowing. It confirmed everything Shard said. Shima looked at Mint and nodded, to ask them to free the man. Mint was reluctant at first, trying to find a reason not to but in the end, they agreed.

Shard was finally free from the ice. He wiped off some blood and sent Mint another glare.

"I'm Shard Ander, the ruler of the Blizzard kingdom. The owner of... Well nothing right now, because we aren't on my land" Mint stuck out their tongue, as to tease Shard. And Shard fell for it. They started to stick out their tongues to each other. Childish, Shima thought.

But they were bigger. They had magical powers, two sets of arms and fighting skills. They had everything they needed to kill Shima. If not for the whole "Damage share clause" she definitely would be dead. It was an exhausting day.

"Lord!" She heard faint screams as she fell down, losing her consciousness.

#Shima: Villains' Tales #writing #writblr #writeblr #Yeah so it eas supposed to be 2 parts but now you're getting three #I wanted to do more dialogues this time #To kind of show off their group dynamic

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vigilskeep · 1 year

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"Anyway, Hawke chose Anders over me, so they have to die." HARKER???? HARKER EXPLAIN HOMIE??? You can't put your rambles in the tags and expect us NOT to read them. Of course, we'll read them. This is the dissertation blog.

NOT IN LIKE A RELATIONSHIP WAY i mean during the last straw

i think the strength of sebastian’s reaction when he goes for his full wicked witch of the west monologue is due to a lot of things, and one of them is that it’s a very personal betrayal. elthina isn’t all sebastian has; elthina and hawke are all sebastian has. the codex for what he’s been doing since act 2 says, “sebastian was heard saying that he will not leave kirkwall as long as both the champion and the grand cleric need him.” hawke is his closest friend and ally, and he is here in kirkwall to defend hawke and serve loyally at their side as much as he is here for the grand cleric. in the last straw, regardless of how else you think about the chantry explosion from other perspectives, hawke’s friend/lover murders the (both emotionally and religiously) most important person in sebastian’s life and destroys his home (also the central religious building of his faith).

keir, who with the loss of elthina is the most important person in sebastian’s life left, stands by anders after he does that. that’s bad enough for sebastian even if his life hadn’t already been turned upside down before by his family being murdered and the murderers going unpunished while all his family’s supposed allies did nothing. (it’s also part of my canon that sebastian and keir became close friends in the aftermath of all that remains, because sebastian could relate to that specific grief, which adds a fresh layer of unimaginable hurt to keir still loving and protecting elthina’s murderer.) when everything in sebastian’s life suddenly goes to hell, keir abandons him and chooses anders, and the personal nature of that betrayal is very present imo. they don’t put “your precious anders!” in that speech for nothing

i do think that sebastian already having spent years struggling with his commitment to his chantry vows while his closest friend is just right there all the time in a committed publicly affectionate relationship exacerbates that in a lot of ways. sebastian’s very uncertain about what is right and what might or might not be a corrupting influence. his discomfort with anders further muddies the issue; in act 3 he’s suspicious of anders’ plans, and tells a hawke romancing anders that they should be careful of him because anders is a dangerous and selfish man. he also tries to get anders to rethink rebellion in party banter, because for hawke’s sake it matters if anything happens to anders. i think it would be weird if all of the complexity of how he feels abt their relationship—and a degree of envy for that relationship, i think, whether that’s for the idea of relationships and physical affection and whatnot in general, or possibly conflated with some never-articulated-even-in-his-own-head feelings for hawke in particular that come with the intensity of his loyalty—didn’t feed into how sebastian responds to the last straw

#keir hawke

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transandersrights · 10 months

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Hello! Handers hurt/comfort for DADWC please? Maaaybe a bit of Circle trauma / old injuries / templars being bastards? Thank you!

(I take prompts! See info here)

Only over two months fashionably late lmao - 1k of early relationship m!Handers hurt/comfort over old injuries for @dadrunkwriting! Content warnings: discussion of scars and injury, references to sex.

“There was this saying in the Wardens.” Anders’ voice was more a rumble underneath Hawke than a sound in his ears, Hawke spread out on top of him as he was. “That anyone worth having as an ally had scars on their chest, not their back.”

“Hmm?” They hadn’t been talking; just lying there, basking in the quiet of a rare moment of peace. “What brought this on?”

The rumble turned to light laughter. “Move your right hand up a bit. You’ll feel it.” Hawke did as he asked, and sure enough, there it was — the unmistakable texture of scar tissue at the base of Anders’ right shoulder blade. “There.”

“Why was that the saying?” Hawke had a good idea, actually. He’d spent enough time around people with more swords than sense, and he knew that line of thought. Anders’ answer was hardly a surprise.

“An ally with scars on their chest faced the enemy head on when they received the injury,” Anders said, “and the ally with scars on their back got it when they were running away.”

“Did they give you grief for it?” Hawke kneaded the area around the scarring, and Anders melted just a little bit like a cat, somehow sinking further into the bed.

“Not when the Commander was around.” Hawke still couldn’t work out how Anders felt about the Wardens — there was some bad blood there, obviously, hence the stolen maps and the running away and the blatant hatred of seemingly everything Warden-related, and yet… Well, there were statements like those. Moments when Anders sounded almost fond of the Wardens and his time there. Always mixed in with fun little stories like this one which were just the wrong side of horrifying, too, but that was how it was with Anders. Hawke wouldn’t say it was part of his charm, but it was certainly part of him. He loved it all the same.

“I have plenty of scars on my front,” Hawke replied. “Most of them are from getting into trouble with the twins. And I can tell you, falling out of a tree onto sharp rocks is not heroic. If they were on my back they’d be exactly the same.”

“You don’t have to tell me that what they said didn’t mean anything,” Anders said, but Hawke could hear the smile in his voice. “The Wardens were a fresh start for a lot of people. A lot of them wanted to pretend they’d never had a reason to run from anything.”

“Same old bravado wherever you go, huh?” Hawke still wasn’t quite sure how far Anders would let him probe — something had changed now, obviously. But he was still a secretive man, and Hawke wasn’t going to wreck this by pushing too hard.

“Probably more,” Anders answered, letting out a little snort of laughter at some old joke he hadn’t told. Hadn’t told yet, though, and that was what mattered right now. There was going to be a tomorrow like this with Anders too, and maybe a day after that, and after that… “You’re smiling.”

For a moment, Hawke thought telling the truth bluntly would be too much. Then he remembered what Anders said earlier, and alright. He was pretty sure he could say something way more intense than this. “Just thinking about you,” he said. “Us, even.”

“Flatterer.” Anders sounded like he was complaining, but the warmth that spread across the surface of his skin, still under Hawke’s fingertips, told another story. “Mine are a little more dramatic than falling out of a tree. Not much more impressive, though.”

“Templars?” It was an easy guess. Lower hanging fruit than the apples that had Hawke bleeding into the soil of an orchard, anyway.

“What else?” When he answered, Hawke let his hands run over the spot again. It was hard to tell the shape from this angle — it was long, a little knotted. A single line.

“Sword to the back?”

Anders hummed. He hadn’t clammed up yet; another good sign. “Templar stuck her leg out, tripped me, and went after me when I hit the ground. To make sure I wouldn’t run away again, she said — I’d been giving them the run around for days at that point. I almost understand the appeal.”

“I don’t,” Hawke grumbled.

Anders just laughed, pressing what could only be a placating kiss to Hawke’s forehead. To his shame (or perhaps not; there was something there about being softened by the one you love. Dad always said he was a bitter, ill-tempered teenager, but he’d raised Carver without once raising his voice), it worked. “As if you don’t drive the bladed end in when you’re extra annoyed. I’ve fought alongside you.”

“You’ve got me there. It was still wrong of her — and of anyone who’d think less of you for having the scar.”

“Your concern is appreciated.” Anders pressed another kiss against his face, just between his eyebrows this time. “But the ship sailed on me ever feeling bad about that one a long time ago.”

“I hope the cargo had no self-hated and plenty of righteous anger.”

Anders snorted. “All my loads have righteous anger.”

It took Hawke a moment; when he got it, he didn’t stand a chance of holding back the laughter bubbling in his chest. Not that he would have wanted to. “I was meant to be comforting you. Not… whatever this is.”

“It would be plenty comforting to go again,” Anders pointed out. “But no need, if you’re tired. I promise you’ve been comforting enough.”

“Maker, Anders, again?” In reply, Anders just laughed. Oh, to have Warden stamina. “Sorry, I’m staying right here. Not moving again tonight.”

“Fair enough.” Anders shifted under him, wiggling up a little in the bed. “Can I…?”

“Of course.” When he said his door was open, he meant open. If they had to have another conversation about that, that was fine with Hawke— but maybe not now. They’d managed to thoroughly derail the last one, and he was blaming the tiredness.

“Then I’ll be right here with you,” Anders said, his nose nestling in Hawke’s hair. He was warm, and their limbs tangled together in an ever so slightly awkward way, but yeah. Hawke was pretty sure he could get used to this.

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age drunk writing circle #handers #anders dragon age #hawke dragon age

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triviareads · 28 days

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Trivia's Monthly Book Round-Up: March 2024

Definitely a better reading month this March! I had a lot of fun with the historicals as well as the contemporary romances I read this month (including some pretty out-there finds like Beg For It by Megan Hart which I ended up adoring. I also got to read some fabulous ARCs like The Mistress Experience by Scarlett Peckham and You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian (reviews to come).

Daddy Crush by Adriana Anders

Exactly what it says on the tin, just a really well-executed age-gap romance that's tender and sexy and has a daddy kink; Jerusha grew up in a rural conservative Christian environment and moves out because she never could quite fit in with her family. She develops a crush on her new neighbor Karl and ends up asking him for sex lessons. I love how unapologetic and joyful Jerusha is about exploring her desires after not being able to do so in the past, and Karl provides her with that safe space all while feeling juuuuuuust enough guilt about being an old lech (he really isn't) to provide further entertainment for me.

Also, I appreciate the realness of the way Adriana describes their bodies— the softness, stretch marks, dimples. It's one of those things I wish we saw more often in romance novels that weren't specifically advertised as having fat rep.

Beg for It by Megan Hart

A super hot femdom romance; Corinne and Reese were in a relationship for in their early twenties, but he eventually left her to move to the Big City. Now they're middle-aged and Reese is a successful businessman looking to take over the company Corinne is CFO of. I loved reading about how the D/s dynamic just clicked for them when they first met in a flashback scene. As with all great second chance romances, their mutual resentment upon reuniting is real ("I'm not your boy anymore!"), but they're also grown-ass adults who know how to handle themselves.... for the most part. You get the sense that while both of them technically moved on, they were never able to get what they wanted from later partners; Reese loves to serve Corinne and gets off on punishment just as much as she enjoys making a meticulous (mental) list of infractions and doling the punishment out. Also, I do appreciate a book where pegging isn't treated as a one-time *special* thing (or worse, a bonus scene).

The Duke's Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley

At long last I decided to retry Jennifer Ashley and I ended up adoring this book! After years of no contact, Eleanor approaches her ex-fiancé Hart to inform him someone is threatening to leak his nude photos. Hart is a gruff, growly SCOTTISH duke who's trying to become Prime Minister so.... this is inconvenient. For all of Hart's posturing, he never got over Eleanor and the man is Obsessed with her. There's so much I loved about this story— there's such a valid reason as to why Eleanor broke off her previous engagement with Hart and I feel like they both learned and grew from it in the following years. BUT that doesn't mean the chemistry isn't there— it was always there (as shown in the flashbacks) and it will always be there, and it's bonkers hot. Like, Eleanor hoards Hart's blackmail nudes in her Hart Scrapbook (I know) and when she's found out, she asks for more nudes (which are taken. in a veeeery hot scene that is very female gaze-y). Obviously he asks for hers in return, which he also takes, eventually.

Rules for a Proper Governess by Jennifer Ashley

@mermaidsirennikita had already put this one my radar, so when the hero Sinclair McBride aka The Scots Machine aka BASHER McBride was teased in The Duke's Perfect Wife in that specific way where you know he's a future hero because he made the current hero (Hart) jealous, I had to read about this hot blond widower barrister next. The heroine Bertie is a pickpocket who tries steal Sinclair's pocket watch but he catches her and she ends up stealing a kiss instead. Then she highkey stalks Sinclair because she's FASCINATED by him and accidentally ends up as his children's governess. In classic The Sound of Music style, she gives the kids an unorthodox but well-rounded education, and on the side she's adorably seething when a widow tries to put the moves on Sinclair. She and his son successfully cockblock him and what follows is the most EROTIC finger-sucking scene I've read like, this man fully shoves 3 of her fingers in his mouth and goes for it. It's so great. I'd absolutely recommend.

The Home Wrecker by Sara Cate

I'm gonna be real, I was not impressed by the last few books Sara Cate put out, but I actually ended up really enjoying this one. Kudos to Sara for actually writing cheating into the romance, and I also thought she handled sensitive subjects like Briar and Caleb's fertility struggles (and the decision they make by the end), Dean being a sex worker, and homophobia in conservative Christian families, quite well. And the emphasis she put on family (lost, found, estranged, having children) was actually really moving by the end.

And on a romance level, the cheating stuff worked— It was kinda great to read both Caleb and Briar being galvanized into acting once they've both been with Dean, especially when you see their their intense apathy towards one another earlier on with this super cringy sex scene. I also like how we were given three distinct personalities with distinct viewpoints in the three main characters; it's something I felt was missing with the throuple in Madame. Here is my full review.

Out of Office by A.H. Cunningham

This is suuuch a sensual, tropical romance split between Panama and Miami and it's out on April 23rd. Here's my review.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

A sweet, sexy sapphic romcom for the zillenials that's out on April 16th. Here's my review.

#trivia's book round-up #book recs #romance novels #contemporary romance #adriana anders #jennifer ashley #megan hart #sara cate #a.h. cunningham #mazey eddings

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thornfield13713 · 1 year

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KIRKWALL REUNION 🥺

The people have spoken! Let's see if I can do the idea justice.

...I'm not sure I did, to be honest, and the ending is definitely rough and will need improvements before this series is ready to post on AO3, but...here we are.

Lirene’s Fereldan Imports was a small, shabby sort of place, not much more than a hole in the wall - though still leagues above the conditions in which most of Marian’s countrymen had found themselves. There but for the Maker’s grace went they, Father would have said, but Marian had never been much of a believer in the Maker’s grace to begin with, even before the Blight. Anders had always been the believer, between the two of them, and now he was gone. There but for one slip, one chance, one lucky brawl in the Gallows when they were fresh off the boat. It was easy to forget, in all the grief that had attended their flight from Ferelden, just how soft a landing they’d had by comparison.

Marian rapped her knuckles surreptitiously on a wooden table, and counted out five sovereigns for the donation box sitting out conspicuously near the door. Carver caught her doing it, and scowled a little and, yes, all right, Marian knew why. But Marian was superstitious enough to want to leave a tithe for fortune, and this seemed a better place for it than the Chantry poorbox, which was always overflowing and yet never seemed to get used.

They had to elbow their way through a crowd of other refugees to get to the front of the queue - attracting no small number of dirty looks on the way, only to stop directly behind a skinny woman whose brown hair was already streaked with early grey, though she couldn’t have been very much older than the twins.

“My mother’s in labour,” she was saying, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to get out. “The baby’s come early- Can anyone help her?”

The woman behind the counter nodded. “I’ll send word to the healer, but-”

“My son’s hurt bad,” another man cut in, “Cart overturned on him in the blasted Bone Pit-”

“Everyone in your turn. I promise, we have donations coming in. There will be food and medicine for all of you-”

Somehow, in the heaving of the crowd, the three of them had ended up at the front of the line. The shopkeeper turned to them, looking frazzled.

“If you’re seeking aid, leave your name with my girl. We serve everyone here - no-one came from Ferelden without trouble.” She folded her arms, and fixed them with a very stern look. “But I can’t give priority to anyone who’s already found work and lodging.”

“That’s fair,” Marian said quickly. “But that…isn’t what we’re here for. I hear you know where I can find a Fereldan Grey Warden?”

The woman - presumably Lirene - snorted. “Only Fereldan Grey Warden I’ve heard of is sitting on the throne. We’re out of the Blight’s path now. Why would you need a Warden?”

“The healer was one of ‘em once, wasn’t he?” the girl with the mother in childbirth cut in excitedly. “A Warden?”

Lirene turned on her like a- well, like a hawk. “Well, he’s not now, and busy enough without answering fool questions about it.”

“Who are you protecting?” Marian asked, as gently as she could manage.

Lirene’s mouth firmed into a hard line. “You see what our people face in Kirkwall. They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without thought for coin. He’s closed their wounds, delivered their children…he’s a good man. I won’t lose him to the blighted Templars.”

Something ached in Marian’s chest at that. Back in Ferelden, she wondered, would Lirene have even looked twice at a mage being dragged away, healer or no? Somehow, she doubted it. Certainly, no-one in Lothering would. They’d had their share of near misses, before the Blight.

“I understand,” she said, a little hollowly. “But he’ll come to no harm from us.”

“R-right,” Carver agreed. “Perfectly safe if he cooperates- Ow! What was that for?”

“What my brother means is, we would never give someone up to the Templars. Never,” Bethany said, the steel coming into her voice now. “Isn’t that right, Carver?”

“Ow- Yeah. That. That is what we mean. I guess.”

Lirene looked between them, then sighed.

“I suppose it isn’t my secret to keep. Anders has certainly been free enough with his services-”

For a moment, Marian could not believe she’d heard right. But then-

A wild, irrepressible, agonising flood of hope welled up in her, in a place she’d thought had long run dry.

“I- I’m sorry, did you-” she swallowed, her mouth dry. “Did you say his name was Anders? You’re certain that was it? Definitely ‘Anders’?”

Lirene’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Unusual, I know, but-”

“I- Is he-” She couldn’t- It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t- More than a year now, he’d been gone. He couldn’t have been returned to her like this. The Maker was not so kind. And yet-

How many could there be? A Fereldan, a mage, a healer by that name-?

“Maker,” Carver muttered. “Marian, you can’t keep torturing yourself like this-”

“I’m not sure I follow…” Lirene said, in a dangerous sort of tone, and Marian forced herself to calm, her fingers white-knuckled where they still gripped the fox-head amulet about her neck.

“I- Is this healer of yours a- a tall man - taller than me - with light hair and amber eyes and-” The image of his face flashed into her mind again, just as it had been that day in the woods. “...and the most ridiculous smile you’ve ever seen? Who loves cats, and…and laughs at his own jokes, even when they aren’t particularly funny?”

It had driven her mad sometimes, those jokes. Now, she would have given almost anything to hear them again.

Lirene’s eyes narrowed.

“...he is a tall, fair man,” she allowed. “But I’ve never seen him smile. Let alone laugh.”

It could be him. It could still be him. It was almost worse than an outright denial.

“Here, is this him?” Bethany asked, reaching up to unclasp her locket, and flicking it open under Lirene’s unimpressed eyes.

The little portrait inside was maybe a bit too small to get the fine detail, but- there he was. There they all were. Mother and Father, in the days when Father had still been alive and Mother’s hair had still had some black in it, Marian and Anders, wrapped up in each other the way they had been all of that first year they’d been married, and the twins, gawky adolescents still growing into their coltish limbs.

Lirene peered down at it, and then looked up sharply.

“...that…does look like him. Who are you, exactly, that you were looking for a Warden in general, and not him by name? His sister?”

“His wife,” Marian corrected, without really thinking about it. It cost real effort to keep her voice steady. “I- I thought he died at Ostagar - we were both there, he- we were separated during the retreat…please, if you can tell me where to find him-”

“Of course.” Lirene looked relieved. “I…suppose this explains it. He always seemed like he must have lost even more than the rest of us, but he never spoke of- Well. I hope I have this right. Refugees in Darktown say to look for the lit lantern. If your need is great enough, Anders will be within.”

Marian didn’t hear her own reply. She wasn’t altogether sure she’d said anything at all. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

Alive, he was alive. She wanted to laugh and cry and dance and also, incidentally, strangle him for making her grieve so long.

She felt Carver’s hand settle on her shoulder.

“It might not be him,” he said, a bit gruffly.

Bethany, on her other side, snorted. “What, another Fereldan apostate healer named Anders? Who just happens to look exactly like his portrait?”

“That thing’s tiny, anyone tall and blonde would look about the same in it-” Carver gave Marian’s shoulder another squeeze. “Let’s just…let me keep my hopes up that it isn’t that unbearable prick come back from the dead?”

His voice was a little strained from the effort of pretending to be jovial about it, but Marian appreciated the effort.

“Well,” she said, a little unsteadily, glancing around the shop. Far too many eyes on them, too many eyes on Bethany, it wasn’t safe- “Whether- Whoever he is, we need to speak with him. We should…probably pick up our new business partner, too. He’ll want to- That is, if this healer is- isn’t who we- who I hope it is…”

“I’ll get him,” Carver promised, “We’ll meet you down in Darktown, then?”

Marian managed a jerky nod.

Alive, he was alive. He was alive and…a Grey Warden, somehow, which was- that was new. Did Wardens even marry? Or was the symbolic death of joining up enough to cancel that out as well?

“It’s him,” Bethany said, as soon as Carver was out the door. “I’m sure it is - who else could it be?”

“...I don’t know.”

But she couldn’t- Hoping had been a torment, all the weeks and months they had spent in Gwaren, waiting for a ship or for word from beyond the Brecilian Passage. Even now, she found herself reaching cautiously out for it, as if afraid she’d get her fingers burnt if she seemed too eager for it. It would be so much worse to let herself hope and then-

She forced a smile for Bethany, and straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders.

“Come on, then. Let’s see if you’re right.”

Of course, they were intercepted almost as soon as they were out of the store, and only a hasty reassurance that they meant Anders- meant this healer no harm let them get away without bloodshed, their would-be assailants apparently not having heard the tail end of the conversation.

And now they were here. Darktown. The first time Marian had set foot down here since she’d left Athenril’s employ. She couldn’t say she’d missed it.

It could hardly be said that the place didn’t live up to its name, either. The place was even more of a maze than Lowtown, a warren of cramped tunnels, almost pitch-dark, so that nothing could be seen of anyone or anything but deeper shadows against darkness. Marian could almost smell the chokedamp in the air, but…only faintly, here, not the killing mist that had left Mother confined to her bed for more than a month, and from which she was only just now starting to recover. And if it got any worse- Well, that was what the handkerchief trick was for.

Varric and Carver were waiting for them by one of the tunnel entrances, and neither of them looked happy.

“Well, I brought him,” Carver said gruffly. “And I really hope that’s actually you this time.”

“Little Hawke’s said that to four or five different people already,” the dwarf put in. “Had a bit of a misunderstanding there for a minute with a couple of old friends from the Carta.”

Marian didn’t need to be able to see his face to know that Carver was scowling.

“How was I supposed to know people around here’d be willing to fight me to save your neck?”

“I’m likeable, little Hawke. You ought to try it sometime. Nice to see you again, Foxy,” he added, nodding at Marian. “But…uh…any particular reason it had to be down here?”

Marian paused, trying not to breathe in too deeply, or through her nose.

“Carver didn’t tell you? A- Your Grey Warden is down here.”

“We’re to look for a lit lantern, whatever that means,” Carver put in.

“Easy, then,” Bethany said quickly. “Just follow the light. If there was any light, I mean.”

“We should stick together,” Marian cut in. “Everyone, get a hold of the person next to you on either side. Let’s really ruin the day of anyone trying to get past us.”

“Do I have to?” Carver protested.

Marian shrugged. “I mean, if you would rather get lost down here in the dark, I suppose it is your decision, but-”

“Maker! Fine, fine, I’m doing it. Not one blighted word about this, dwarf!”

“Now, would I do a thing like that? We’re all following your lead, Foxy!”

No pressure at all, then.

It was times like this that Marian missed her father most of all. If he’d still been here-

If he’d still been here, they’d never have fled to Kirkwall at all, she reminded herself sharply. Their first plan had been to make for Amaranthine or Denerim, still in Ferelden but not as directly in the path of the Blight. It wasn’t until after- after he was gone that Mother had set her heart on Kirkwall.

Father wasn’t here now. It was just Marian. So she would just have to try and be enough.

She put a hand to the nearest wall, grimacing in the dark at the awful, slimy, slippery feeling of it under her fingers. “...all right. Let’s see if I remember the way around. If I’m right, we should be going…this way.”

Directly into a dead end, as it turned out, and the less said about the moment she’d put her hand on something warm and furry and shrieked, the better, but eventually they got turned around in the right direction, enough to find a set of crudely-carved stone stairs, and start making their way up into more-travelled areas, where the lichen glow was enough to see your hand in front of your face by.

There was a faint glow coming from somewhere up ahead that promised they were heading in the right direction, not the gold of lantern-light, but something stranger, an odd blue-green light almost, but not quite, like lyrium glow. And, as they stumbled up onto a higher platform, Marian could see it. The walls here were alive with something blue-green and glowing, casting an eerie, sickly light over the tunnels, and over tents and bedrolls, low smoky cookfires, and people. Far more people than Marian had ever expected, some sitting hunched around the fires, some just standing, waiting, some lying apparently where they fell, curled up in nests of rags if they were lucky, or just lying prone on the hard stone, sleeping or dead.

There were others, too - well-armed shadows in armour, human or elven or dwarven, marked out by the way they moved as much as by their armour as they pressed purposely through the crowd, and everywhere they went, the rest of the people scattered before them, shrinking into the shadows as if afraid to draw notice. The stench was well-nigh unbearable - raw sewage, too many bodies too close together, fear and desperation, piss and vomit.

And this was where Anders had hidden? Fastidious Anders, who had fussed over his hair and clothes and whined about all the mess involved in farming? Anders, who had hated the dark, and enclosed spaces, so much that some nights even their room at home had seemed too tight for him, and they’d slipped out into the fields to lie under the stars and talk until he could breathe easily again. Marian couldn’t picture it, couldn’t- It might not be him, she reminded herself. She would not let herself believe it was him. Not until she saw his face with her own eyes.

At the back of the line, Varric was complaining again.

“You know what I love about the Undercity? Absolutely nothing!”

“I can’t imagine the people who have to live here like it very much either,” Bethany retorted.

“Oh- You know what I mean, sunshine! Just because other people are miserable down here doesn’t mean I have to come down and be miserable as well.”

“You were the one who wanted a way into the Deep Roads, we’re getting you a way into the Deep Roads,” Carver said flatly. “Stop whining about it.”

“I am not whining, Junior, I’m just pointing out that if I were a Grey Warden, I’d find somewhere a lot cooler than this to hide.”

The people were scattering in front of them, too, Marian saw. No doubt taking them for more Carta or Coterie here to cause trouble. They weren’t even that far wrong. Back in the day when she was with Athenril, they’d have been right to scatter. She’d always thought it was Athenril and her men’s reputation doing the work. She hadn’t quite realised that she herself must be almost as frightening.

The entire Undercity left to hunt for, and only the sign of a lit lantern to guide them. It wasn’t much.

“...asking around might lead to more trouble,” she said, more to herself than the others. They couldn’t rely on any other refugees being as willing to take her at her word as those they had met outside Lirene’s place. “Okay. Everyone keep an eye out for lantern-light…”

She had been prepared for it to take days. In the end, though, it was only hours. Hours of wandering dark tunnels, a piss-stinking handkerchief tied over her mouth and nose to filter out the worst of the chokedamp. Hours of arguing herself out of hope - Carver was right, any tall, fair man would look much the same in a portrait the size of the one in Bethany’s locket, even without five other people, a dog and two kittens to share the frame - but not quite being able to stop the hammering of her heart, the thrum of her nerves as tunnel after tunnel came up short.

And then-

They had come into a new section of the tunnels, and the far wall was gone, just a few haphazard boards and pillars between them and the sea.

“We must be right up against the cliff-face,” Bethany said, wondering, the smell of salt rising to mingle with all the rest of the smells of Darktown, as Marian screwed up her eyes to squint against the sun.

“And there’s the lantern!” Carver’s hand thumped down against Marian’s shoulder. “We found him! If it is him,” he added hastily. “It might not-”

“I know.”

“Well, we have to try, don’t we?” Varric put in cheerfully. “Unless you weren’t serious about wanting in on this expedition after all, which…I mean, I’d understand why two weeks down in the dark with Bartrand wasn’t exactly your idea of a fun time, but…”

Marian wasn’t listening. Another flight of stairs, across a low half-flooded platform, water soaking through her boots, up again, and then-

The lantern burned overhead, hanging on a low post in front of a pair of makeshift driftwood doors. Marian swallowed, tasting sea air, her heart in her throat.

“...well, are we going to go in, or…” Varric prodded.

“She’ll do it when she’s ready, dwarf,” Carver snapped. “Do you need a moment?” That was Bethany, stepping up to put a hand on Marian’s shoulder. Somehow, Marian had never quite stopped being surprised they were almost of a height now.

“No. Let’s have this done.”

The door swung open easily when she pushed it, and then-

A large, airy, open room, apparently carved straight out of the stone, full of makeshift cots and the smell of elfroot and- and a little cluster of people, over by one of the beds, a man in a heavy feathered coat stooping over a small body, blue-white light shining from his hands. Anders, Anders, Anders.

As they watched, the child on the cot arched up, and then sat, breathing heavily but easily, breathing, and Anders stumbled away, half-collapsed, leaning heavily on a pillar as one of the men who had been gathered around the child - now being embraced by two grey-haired women who might have been his parents - reached out to steady him.

Marian couldn’t help it, she moved forward, wanting to do the same, just as she always had back in Lothering, when a healing took a lot out of him. And then-

He must have heard them coming, a moment later, the staff was in his hands and he was rounding on them, one hand raised as if to cast - or ward them off.

“I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you- Marian?”

“Anders.”

It was all she could say, the word punched out of her along with all the breath in her lungs. A moment later, she was across the room and in his arms. She felt the weight of that new staff against her shoulder, his face pressing into her hair.

“You cut your hair,” she said, muffled against a mouthful of feathers, and heard his shaky startled laugh in answer.

“I did, I- Maker, I can’t believe- How are you here? How-? I thought everyone died at Ostagar. I thought-” His voice cracked.

“So did I.” She felt the tears well up in her eyes again, when she had thought that well had run dry long ago, in the long weeks at Gwaren, or on the ship to Kirkwall, or in all of this last year of trying to step into her father’s shoes alone. “I’ve never been so pleased to be wrong.”

He squeezed her a little tighter, her fingers digging in deep at the leather of his new coat as his buried themselves in her red hair, pulling her closer still. He felt just the same as he always had, warm as a furnace. Thinner, perhaps, but so was Marian now, and the smell of him was still the same beneath the universal Darktown stench - elfroot and feathers and the cool scent of a coming snowfall. Marian buried her face against his shoulder and just breathed it in.

“Uh- Not to break up the moment,” Varric said behind her. “But could someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Anders startled, a full-body thing, and looked around. Marian did too, twisting as best she could to look over her shoulder without pulling away.

Varric looked absolutely poleaxed, Carver somewhere between pleased and resigned, and Bethany was beaming.

“I…ah.” Marian coughed. “Anders, this is Varric. He’s…we’re business partners. Varric, this is Anders. My husband.”

Varric’s eyes very nearly jumped out of his skull.

“Your- Wait, you’ve been married to a Warden this whole time and didn’t say anything? You’ve been married this whole time and never said anything?”

“Was it any of your blighted business?” Carver snapped, crossing his arms.

“Everything is my business, Junior! Foxy, I’m wounded - aren’t we friends?”

“...we are,” Marian said cautiously, though that was, perhaps, overstating the case a little. She’d known Varric less than a week at this point - that wasn’t really long enough to call anyone a friend, in her experience. Well- hardly anyone, anyway, she amended, glancing back at Anders just to check he was still there.

“If it helps,” Anders said, shifting a little against her to adjust his grip on his staff. “I wasn’t a Warden when I- when we were separated. They didn’t get me until later. I- I got swept up with Teyrn Loghain’s retreat,” he explained, returning his attention to Marian, a little crease forming between his brows. “It was all…very chaotic. I thought you’d be there with the rest of Bann Bryland’s men, but I couldn’t find you, and when I tried to sneak away once we got to Lothering I got caught at it. Nearly got hanged as a deserter.”

Carver snorted. “Five times escaping the Circle and you couldn’t manage getting away from the army?”

“They were watching the medics and herbalists like hawks. I couldn’t get clear until Denerim - and even then, only by…er…borrowing some armour and ‘going out on patrol’.” He swallowed. “I thought…maybe when the refugees started flooding in I’d find you, but- Why Kirkwall? I mean…I know you have family here, but Malcolm always said he’d never come back to this place-”

“He did.” Marian swallowed. “And…he didn’t. He- There was an ogre, on the road…Father…Father didn’t…”

She didn’t want to picture it. The broken body lying in the dust, the way they had been forced to abandon it with no pyre, no grave. Just bones on the roadside at the very edge of the Korcari Wilds, and nothing to say whose they had been or all he had done.

“I’m sorry,” Anders’ voice was thick and raw. He had loved Father too, Marian knew - had found in him the mentor he never had in the Circle tower. “I’m so sorry- How- How is Leandra taking it?”

Marian’s eyes dropped. She didn’t- She’d always sort of known that once Father died, it would be up to her to lead. No-one had ever said it, but…somehow it had always been known. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the way Mother had collapsed under the weight of that grief, so that Marian had had to take all that weight alone, without a guide or a word of advice. She’d always expected to be older, too, but-

Well. Things were what they were.

“I’m sorry. I should- I should have been there, I should-”

“You’re here now,” Marian interrupted. “I’m glad enough of that.”

A shadow passed behind Anders’ eyes.

“You…may not be, once you know everything,” he said, very softly. “But- If you weren’t…if you didn’t know I was here, why were you…”

“Oh, are we done with the family drama now?” Varric asked. He sounded almost disappointed. Marian half-expected him to have whipped out a quill and started taking notes. “Don’t feel like you have to stop on my account…” he paused, and then, when it became clear nobody was going to get back to providing him amusement: “We’re interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Rumour has it you were a Warden, which…you kind of just confirmed, so…do you know a way?”

“The Deep Roads,” Anders repeated hollowly. “I- I will die a happy man if I never think of the blighted Deep Roads again. You can’t- Marian, please, tell me you’re not thinking of going down there.”

“Mother’s had two bouts with the chokedamp this year already,” Marian said quietly. “A third might carry her off, and so long as we’re in Lowtown, that’s as good as inevitable. This is our only shot at getting out.”

Anders still looked faintly sick. “I…have some maps of the depths in this area. And if you’re going, I- Well, it’d be a shame to follow you all the way to Ostagar and then turn back now, if- if you want me to come with you, that is. You might not, once you- once you know everything that’s happened this last year. And there’s…” he paused. “I- I have something I need to do in the city. Tonight.”

“We’re not threatening to leave at once,” Marian reassured him. “What- What is it you need to do? Do you need any help with it?”

She didn’t want to leave him alone. She didn’t want to be parted from him just in general terms. It felt like the moment she looked away he’d be gone, and the miracle would be over, and the grief all the worse for being renewed.

Anders looked hunted for a moment, but then:

“I came to Kirkwall to help a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows.”

“Karl,” Marian said softly, realisation dawning. “...well. That seems like the sort of job that would go easier with two than one. Are we breaking him out of the Gallows proper, or-” “Marian,” Carver hissed. “You can’t do that! What about Bethany? D’you want to bring the Templars down on her-”

“It’s not in the Gallows,” Anders said hastily. “I- I’ve been exchanging notes with Karl through a maidservant in the Gallows. She’s agreed to help him get out, at least as far as the Chantry. Probably a trap, but it’s the best chance we’re ever likely to have.”

#dragon age #handers #marian hawke #anders #handers in lothering au

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justcallmecappy · 1 year

Text

Help me write a Fenders fic (pt. 5)

[ Read part 1 here | Read part 2 here | Read part 3 here | Read part 4 here ]

Turning to Fenris again, Anders says quietly, "Thank you. Maker knows why you did all that, but ... thank you."

For a moment, Fenris doesn't say anything in response. His gaze is distant as he says, "You ... are welcome," in a hesitant voice, as if he is still not used to being thanked. It could have been a trick of the firelight, but Anders imagines he sees a rosy pinkness dust the tops of Fenris' cheeks and tint the tips of his ears.

"That man," Fenris says, brows knitting together. "He seemed to recognize you — he knew that you're a mage. He called you ... Sparklefingers?"

A sharp laugh escapes Anders' throat and he grins sardonically to himself. "Oh, yes, well ... I used to work at The Pearl, a popular brothel back in Denerim. He must have been one of my old clients." He sighs and shakes his head. "Guess I left a bigger impression than I thought."

"I'm glad that you —" Fenris swallows, then pauses. "It's good that you don't have to do that sort of work anymore." The blush in the tips of his ears seems to grow even redder.

Anders, too, can feel warmth rise uncharacteristically to his face. He doesn't know why he suddenly feels so very shy — but when he remembers how Fenris stepped in so gallantly between him and that nobleman, and how Fenris seized his hand and led him to safety, Anders feels his stomach flutter and his heart do somersaults in his chest.

'You can't have him. Not if I hire him first.'

The accursed fluttering in his chest grows as furiously and ardently as the damned blush on his cheeks, and Anders can feel himself about to say something really, really stupid.

Thank you to everyone who voted, reblogged, and commented! 🥰

#help me write a fenders fic #fenders #fanfiction #my writing #my fanfic #thank you so much to everyone who voted commented and reblogged! <3

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transprincecaspian · 1 year

Text

Jurian Amell

well I had @demandthedoodles and a few others peek this for me and I’ve decided to post it but you could consider it a continuation of this post about Trystan 😌 anyways here’s jurian amell pov

no warnings and features Fenris!

—————

The chill was pervasive in Hightown. It was worse than in the lower levels of the city, where packed bodies provided heat in passing and the busy markets usually had warm fires to gather around. It was made worse by the wet tendrils of hair that still curled around his cheeks. Jurian’s breath frosted in the air as he sighed; the moment that he heard the click of the door behind him, his easy smile fell away. His shoulders dropped, and he fished in the dark for the large rucksack he had tucked behind one of Leandra’s potted plants. Trystan’s cutting gaze had made it clear that—after only one night—he had already worn out his welcome.

He fished his cloak out of the pack before throwing it over his shoulder; the cloak was long and warm and stubbornly stitched, and it obfuscated his figure in the dark. Upper nobility or not, he was still in Kirkwall, and he knew well the leering eyes that followed him on the streets. It put him at ease knowing that they would have to look a little harder and come a little closer, and by that point they wouldn’t know what had hit them.

With another sigh, he turned to escape the looming heights of the Amell estate, only to stop short when he realized that someone was blocking his path. Blinking in the dark, Jurian’s heartbeat slowed once he recognized a familiar face.

“Fenris,” he said. “I thought that you’d left already.”

“I walked Isabela back to the Hanged Man,” Fenris answered, “but I was actually on my way to my own home when I saw you leaving. I thought that you said you were staying in Kirkwall for some time.”

Jurian glanced back at the home of his namesake—it wasn’t his family inside, not anymore. “I am,” he said. “You know how it is, though, right? Leandra is already a crowd with those two. Trystan and Anders are all over each other. I’d just be getting in their way.”

Fenris paused, and then tilted his head. His breath came softly, little wisps of frost in the air, illuminated by the moonlight. “You don’t have anywhere else to go.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m charming,” Jurian said, and he flashed Fenris a smile that others had purportedly put to song. He had never heard such poems, not in all of the years he’d heard rumors of them. “Someone will take pity on me and bring me home.”

Fenris didn’t return the smile. “You could come back to my mansion.”

Jurian stopped rubbing his arms beneath his cloak; he hadn’t realized how cold he’d grown, but Fenris’s offer was enough to stop him still. “I thought you didn’t like mages much,” he said, without thinking. He grimaced, but Fenris didn’t waver.

“I don’t,” he said, “but I like the thought of leaving you out on the streets even less. Besides, it would be much easier to keep an eye on a rogue mage under my own roof. It’s the least I can do for Hawke’s family.”

Jurian, sensing that he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, nodded to indicate that Fenris should lead the way. He scrambled for something to say to break the uneasy silence—something besides their footsteps. “It’s strange to hear all of you call him Hawke.”

“I think, for that reason, it is stranger to us to hear you call him Trystan.” Fenris paused for a moment. “In fact, I don’t think I had heard his first name before that first time that you came to visit. I had only known him as Hawke.”

“Maybe I should have you all start calling me Amell,” Jurian japed. He thought it would fall flat between them, but Fenris allowed for a small smile. “It doesn’t quite ring the same, does it? In any case, I… I should thank you. For giving me somewhere to stay for the night, I mean. I know your home and solitude is important to you.”

Fenris didn’t say anything, and for a few moments, Jurian was worried that he had overstepped—again. Of all of Trystan’s friends, Fenris had always been the hardest for him to parse out. Between his distaste for mages—quite justified—and his naturally reserved demeanor, Jurian had never known just where he stood with him. In fact, there was a small part of him that still expected Fenris to tell him to sod off and find somewhere else to sleep.

Not that it would be an unusual expectation, really. Trystan had practically said as much, even if it was with his body language alone. Jurian knew well when he wasn’t wanted, and the last thing he wanted to do was test his luck with his remaining, living kin. ‘Kin’ was the word for it–not family. It might be his name over the door, but he wasn’t welcome right now.

“It is,” Fenris finally said. “But the mansion is large. I wouldn’t have offered it if I thought that your presence would be pervasive in any way.”

To that, Jurian nodded. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as they made their way through the streets of Hightown; the path to the mansion from the Amell estate brought them through twisting alleys and across the path of the Chantry, but no Templars stopped them, to which Jurian could have breathed a sigh of relief. He was so focused on staring at his boots and praying to Andraste that no one would call out to them that he almost didn’t hear Fenris speak up again.

“How long are you going to be in Kirkwall?” He asked, and Jurian looked up just in time to stop himself from walking right into his back. Fenris, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy searching for what Jurian assumed was a hidden key.

“I don’t know,” Jurian admitted, raising his head up to admire the facade of the mansion, where the black stone was built into the walls of the city. “It’s hard to say, if I’m being honest. I… I’m looking for someone, you see.”

Fenris looked back at him, key in hand, with a brow raised and waiting for the rest of the sentence. Jurian blinks under the intensity of his gaze, but quickly draws himself up—composure included. In his boots, he’s taller than the elf, but he imagined that without them they’d be around the same height.

“Well, I’m sure you know that when mages—well, you might not know– might not care– that’s besides the point,” Jurian sighed. “When my mother found out her firstborn child had magic, well… It was devastating for the Amells. For her, I should say. I was taken away and sent to the Circles in Ferelden, and so were my siblings later on. Split up. I don’t know much about them other than their names. And my mother, I…”

The words were coming too fast for him to stop them, now. He felt guilty for dragging Fenris into his business, but he needed to tell someone why he was here. Trystan had proven that he didn’t care. “Well, she went missing. Nobody knows where, and my father is dead now. I thought that… coming back here, trying to pick up the pieces where they were first broken, maybe I could find her. Or some sign of what happened to her.”

When he finally looked up at Fenris again, he had turned away to open the door. Gutted, Jurian followed him in through the open doorway with his head held low. He had been asked for a simple answer, not his life story, and he knew well by now that he wasn’t really wanted anywhere in Kirkwall—he wasn’t really wanted anywhere, except maybe by the Templars, strung up in the Gallows and made an example of.

He had only taken a few steps into the mansion, balancing on broken tile and maneuvering by the moonlight filtered through the windows, when Fenris finally turned around to face him again. “Stay until you find her.”

Jurian blinked, and his voice escaped softer than he would have liked. “What?”

Fenris shuffled, turned aside but looking halfway over his shoulder as if Jurian could be the one to suddenly bite. “Until you find your mother,” he clarified, as if that were the part that was causing confusion. “It wouldn’t be right to let you scrounge for somewhere to sleep every night. Kirkwall isn’t like Denerim. You don’t know who you can trust here.”

But you’re saying I can trust you, Jurian thought, but he didn’t say it. “Thank you–”

“My room is up there,” Fenris interrupted, gesturing to a room on the far side of the foyer, up a flight of twin stairs. He then pointed towards a hall to the right. “There are more rooms down there, though, and a kitchen. You are welcome to any bed that appeals to you.”

The silence between them was deafening again, and the chill was beginning to creep up his back once more. When Fenris went to close the front door, Jurian took that as his cue to take his rucksack and make for one of the rooms down the hall—insisting on gratitude, at least for now, might strain whatever goodwill Fenris had chosen to bestow upon him.

He chose the last one, at the very far end. It wasn't that this room was more appealing than any other—it was smaller, and darker, and in relative disarray—save for one thing. The window, framed by tattered silk drapes, opened up to a view of the Waking Sea. The waves were gently tossing and glittering in the moonlight, and if he strained, he could almost make out the crash of foam against the rocks. His bag abandoned on the bed, Jurian was able to sit there, arms crossed on the windowsill, and bask in that sight alone.

The mansion was large and strangely empty—yet he already felt less lonely here than any night spent amongst those who were supposed to be his blood.

FIN

#Cas writes #dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #jurian amell #fenris dragon age #jurian meta #Cas meta #please tell me ur thoughts btw #I am #open to feedback

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