#Fancy Anders

[esonetwork]

'Fancy Anders Goes To War' Book Review By Ron Fortier

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'Fancy Anders Goes To War' Book Review By Ron Fortier

FANCY ANDERS GOES TO WAR By Max Allan Collins Illustrated by Fay Dalton Neo Text

118 pgs

During World War Two, so many of America’s sons went off fighting a war, it fell on America’s daughters to keep the homefront afloat. Now for those mothers and wives living on farms and ranches, none of this was new as they already knew what hard labor was all about. Whereas their city cousins who had only punched a clock behind a store counter or handled a typewriter, they were not at all prepared for the noisy, sweaty, production factories they were required to keep working. The war effort needed lots of planes and tanks and lots of other vital military equipment. Thus in the thousands, these gals put aside their lipsticks for headscarves, and high-heels for work boots and rolled up their sleeves to do their part. Thus was born Rosy the Riveter.

Considering the five long years the war lasted, we’ve always been amazed that Hollywood for the most part has ignored this phenomenon of a woman-dominated America and only given us two major productions centered on the period. The first is the horrendous 1984 “Swing Shift” directed by Jonathan Damme and starring Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. Its intentions might have been good, but the story was bland and boring. As for the second, we’ll get to that eventually.

Now mystery writer Max Allan Collins has turned his always active imagination to that subject matter in “Fancy Anders Goes To War,” and delivers a short, fun, and exciting tale debuting a wonderful new character. Francine Anders’ father operates a private investigation business out of Los Angeles. When he is called away to Washington to help with the establishment of the military’s new intelligence department, he leaves Fancy behind to manage the office. What he assumes will be simple record-keeping and maintenance stuff.

What Anders senior couldn’t foresee was the death of a young woman at the Amalgamated Aircraft Factory.  Although reported as an accident, the owner of the firm has suspicions to the contrary. Being a good friend of the family, he suggests that Fancy investigate. With the help of a city detective, she agrees and soon goes undercover as a new employee. Once again, Collins sets the stage with detailed historical accuracy as Fancy finds herself working with other patriotic, self-sacrificing women unafraid to get their hands dirty and willing to take on any job that will help America win the war. Yet working side by side with these women, and their male supervisors, might be a murderer. Fancy’s challenge is not only to uncover the killer but at the same time the motive for the crime.

It’s a dandy mystery and Fancy and her friends are wonderfully realized. We’d also like to tip our pulp fedora to artist Fay Dalton who provides not only a great colorful cover but some equally beautiful interior illustrations. Something we don’t get enough of these days. Finally, we did mention there was a second movie about women during wartime; Penny Marshall’s delightful “A League of Their Own,” with Tom Hanks and Gena Davis. This only makes us wonder if maybe Fancy might return in a sequel. “Fancy Anders Strikes Out” has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

[fancygeorgejones]

I’m starting a collection of bisexual romance-able npcs who are healers and also have manifestos. If I had a nickel etc.

[mourn-and-watch]

sometimes I wonder what bioware actually wanted to achieve when they wrote the whole anders arc and then decided how they should treat it in DA:I. like they created a guy who was helping people in need for years risking his freedom and sometimes even life and then they said you know what this guy is BAD and WRONG. actually much worse than organization that ultimately fails at its main goal which is maintaining peace and balance. oh that poor chantry lady who didn't even try to keep her favourite templar and her mass murder tendencies in check

[makerscockandballs]

thinking abt Anders' Awakening codex mentioning he "takes great pride in his appearance and enjoys fine things". yet when we meet him in DA2 he's wearing a makeshift outfit of patched-together fabric thats missing parts and looks more tired and unkempt than ever.

[libartz]

Obsessed with dragon age mage staffs that are disguised as tools/regular weapons and can also function as them. I love giving Anders Eye of the Storm because it’s also a glaive and so it satisfies my need for Justice-induced warrior multiclassing

Also gives new meaning to that sidequest in Inquisition where a woman’s husband was murdered by Templars because they thought his shovel was a mage staff

[orionlancasterr]

Literally. Anders hair.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hookups & Holdouts

Summary: Spencer is casually seeing your friend, but is there something going on between you and him as well?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: bisexual Spencer Reid (it's canon to me), having a crush on your friends fwb, tension, Spencer is just a man, forced encounters

Word count: 7.7k

a/n: unfortunately i have been the reader in this situation ........

main masterlist

The night was buzzing with the energy of the bar, the kind of place where the music vibrated through the floors, and the chatter of conversations created a constant hum. You had gone out with your coworkers for a much-needed night of unwinding after a particularly stressful week. It was supposed to be a night of letting loose, but instead, your thoughts were consumed by someone you had met not too long ago—Spencer.

Your mind drifted to the first time you met him. It was at a small get-together hosted by Anders, a close friend of yours who had been seeing Spencer for a while now. You hadn't expected to hit it off with Spencer as much as you did, especially since you thought he was strictly into men. But as the night went on, you found yourself drawn to his quirky intelligence, his sharp wit, and the way his eyes seemed to light up when he talked about something he was passionate about.

You quickly became friends, texting back and forth until it became a regular part of your day. It was during one of these late-night text exchanges that you learned Spencer was bisexual. Your heart had done a little flip at that revelation, but you quickly shoved your feelings aside, convincing yourself that Spencer was head over heels for Anders. After all, they were sleeping together, and Anders was obviously very into him.

But now, as you sipped your drink and scanned the bar, you spotted Spencer at a table with a group of people who had to be his coworkers. Your heart skipped a beat. You had heard a lot about them from Spencer—Derek, JJ, Emily—but seeing them in person was something else entirely. You were about to wave and call out to him when Spencer’s eyes found yours first. He smiled that familiar smile, the one that always made your stomach do somersaults, and excused himself from his group.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Spencer greeted you as he approached, his voice warm and teasing.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the smartest guy in the room,” you replied with a grin, trying to hide how your pulse quickened just being around him.

“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said, downplaying your compliment in that self-deprecating way he always did. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” You motioned to the empty stool next to you.

The two of you quickly fell into your usual rhythm, talking about everything from work to the latest books you were reading. But as the conversation flowed, you couldn’t help the little quips that started slipping out, your nerves getting the better of you.

“So, how’s Anders? You two still having fun?” you asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a twinge of something uncomfortable as you brought him up.

Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Anders is… fine. He’s fun to be around, I guess.”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. “You guess? Come on, Spencer, the guy’s practically in love with you.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the edge of his glass. “Anders is… nice. But, uh, he’s not really my type.”

That took you by surprise. You thought for sure that Spencer was into Anders—why else would he keep seeing him? “Not your type? You’ve been sleeping with him for weeks.”

“Yeah, well… sometimes people do things for reasons other than love,” Spencer said, his voice dropping slightly. He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, a mix of vulnerability and something else that made your heart race.

You suddenly felt a bit silly for bringing it up, but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “So, what’s wrong with him? Not smart enough for you?”

Spencer let out a small laugh, but there was no real amusement behind it. “Something like that. He’s just… we don’t connect on a deeper level, you know? It’s all very surface-level.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you processed his words. “I see. So, no chance of you two becoming anything serious, then?”

Spencer hesitated before answering, his gaze locking onto yours. “Honestly? I’m not looking for anything serious with Anders. I’m just… I don’t know, trying to figure things out. I think he knows that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized what he was saying. Anders wasn’t who Spencer really wanted. But then who was? The question hung heavy in the air between you, but you were too scared to ask it out loud. Instead, you deflected, cracking a joke to cover up the awkwardness.

“Well, if you’re not looking for serious, maybe I should set you up with my other friend. They’re even more clueless than Anders.”

Spencer’s eyes crinkled with a small smile, but there was a hint of frustration in them. “You really think that’s what I’m after? Clueless fun?”

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light despite the tightness in your chest. “Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Spencer sighed, leaning closer to you. His voice was soft, almost hesitant. “No. Not everyone.”

Your heart raced, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to face the possibility that you weren’t what Spencer was looking for. The thought of getting hurt, of not being enough, was too much to bear. So, like you always did when things got too real, you joked.

“Well, when you meet a man who doesn’t want that, send them my way,” you said with a forced laugh, trying to brush off the weight of the moment.

Spencer’s expression faltered for just a split second, but you caught it—the brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he quickly masked it. He straightened up, the space between you widening as he pulled back. The connection you had just felt so deeply seemed to fray at the edges, unraveling as the conversation shifted back to safer, more casual topics.

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer replied, his tone light, almost too light. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

The easygoing smile he offered didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could tell he was retreating, closing himself off. Your stomach twisted in regret, but you couldn’t bring yourself to backtrack, to admit that you had only been joking out of fear.

Instead, you followed his lead, letting the conversation drift back to mundane things—the latest case he had been working on, the books you both had been reading, the random, everyday things that were usually so comforting. But now, every word felt like a reminder of what you might have just lost, of the opportunity that had slipped through your fingers.

As the night wore on, you found yourself laughing and talking as you always did with Spencer, but there was a heaviness in the air that neither of you acknowledged. The easy rapport you had was still there, but it was tinged with something unsaid, something that had almost been spoken but was now buried beneath the surface.

When it was time to part ways, Spencer walked you to the door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You felt the tension in the air, the unspoken words hanging between you like a thick fog.

“Thanks for hanging out tonight,” he said, his voice still carrying that light, casual tone.

“Yeah, it was fun,” you replied, forcing a smile.

There was a brief pause, a moment where you both stood there, just looking at each other. You wanted to say something, to take back your earlier joke, to tell him how you really felt. But the fear of rejection, of ruining what you already had, held you back.

Spencer gave you a small nod, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “See you around.”

As you watched him walk away, disappearing into the night, you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret. You had missed your chance, and now you were left wondering what could have been if you had just been brave enough to be honest.

—

The drive to Anders' place was filled with a mixture of nerves and determination. You had made up your mind; it was time to tell Anders the truth. He deserved to know that Spencer wasn't interested in him the way he wanted. It wasn’t fair for him to keep investing in something that wasn’t going anywhere. You hated the idea of hurting your friend, but it was better than letting him continue on, oblivious.

You pulled up to Anders' apartment, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you. The familiar routine of movie nights had always been a comfort, a way to unwind and relax. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were going to disrupt that comfort with harsh reality.

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself in, as you always did. Anders never minded; his place was practically your second home. You called out to announce your arrival, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the scene in front of you.

There, on the couch where you usually sat, was Spencer—completely naked, with an equally naked Anders in his lap. The image burned into your brain, your eyes widening in shock as you tried to process what you were seeing.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you yelled, immediately spinning around to face the door, your heart racing in your chest. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment and shock battling for dominance in your mind.

Anders, ever the carefree spirit, just giggled. The sound was light, airy, completely unfazed by the situation. “Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” he asked casually, as if you hadn’t just walked in on him in the middle of a very intimate moment.

“Uh—you asked if I wanted to watch a movie tonight!” you stammered, still refusing to turn around, your eyes fixed firmly on the door. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out how to extricate yourself from this incredibly awkward situation without making it worse.

“Oh, right!” Anders said, his voice full of realization. “I totally forgot. We, uh, kind of got distracted.” He let out another giggle, as if this whole thing was just a minor inconvenience.

Spencer, on the other hand, was silent. You could feel the tension radiating from him, and it only made your discomfort grow. You wanted to disappear, to erase the last few minutes from existence. But there was no undoing what had just happened.

“I—uh, I’ll just go,” you mumbled, reaching for the door handle, desperate to escape.

“No, wait!” Anders called out, but you were already halfway out the door. The last thing you wanted was to stick around and make things even more awkward.

You bolted down the hallway, not stopping until you were back in your car. Once inside, you sat there for a moment, your hands gripping the steering wheel as you tried to steady your breathing. The image of Spencer and Anders was still fresh in your mind, and you felt a wave of emotions crashing over you—embarrassment, guilt, sadness, and something else you couldn’t (or didn’t want to) name.

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel like the worst friend in the world. You had come to tell Anders the truth, to help him move on, but instead, you had just walked in on something that was probably better left unseen. And now, you didn’t know how you were going to face either of them again.

In the back of your mind, though, there was another thought, one that made your heart ache even more. You had seen Spencer in a way that only deepened your feelings for him, but you also knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t yours to have. Not now. Not ever.

—

The days that followed the incident at Anders' apartment were some of the most confusing and emotionally draining you had ever experienced. Spencer's text message—I’m sorry you saw that. Are we okay?—had sat on your phone like a ticking time bomb. Every time you opened your messages, there it was, a stark reminder of what you’d witnessed, and what you couldn’t unsee. You had read it countless times, but every time, it made your chest tighten and your eyes burn with unshed tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not yet. Not when everything felt so raw.

So you let it sit. And sit. Days turned into weeks, and you kept yourself distant from both Spencer and Anders. You barely texted Anders, showing up in his life only when absolutely necessary, and even then, you kept things as casual and distant as possible. Luckily, Anders didn’t seem to notice much, his naturally spaced-out personality giving you some breathing room. But you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. Eventually, he would notice. Eventually, you would have to face him again.

And that day had come sooner than you would have liked. Anders had messaged you about another movie night, and you knew it was time to face the music. You agreed to come over, but you made sure to call from the parking lot, wanting to avoid any more unplanned surprises.

“Hey, I’m here,” you said into the phone, trying to keep your voice light as you sat in your car outside Anders' apartment.

“Great! Come on up, I’ve got the popcorn ready,” Anders replied, his usual cheerful tone making you feel a little guilty for having avoided him for so long.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to get out of the car and walk up to his apartment. Your nerves were on edge, but you told yourself it would be fine. You just had to get through this night, and then maybe things would start to feel normal again.

Once inside, you tried to focus on the task at hand, helping Anders get the snacks together in the kitchen. It was almost working—almost—until you heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Hey, lover!” Anders called out, his voice bright and playful.

Your heart sank, and you froze in place, your hand hovering over the bowl of chips you were holding. You didn’t need to turn around to know who had just walked in. That voice had been seared into your memory, and the way Anders greeted him left no doubt.

Spencer.

You could feel your pulse quicken, panic rising in your chest as you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly busied yourself with the snacks, pretending you hadn’t heard, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get through this without falling apart.

But then Spencer spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. “Hey… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as you forced yourself to turn around. There he was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking just as nervous and out of place as you felt. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had gone unsaid hanging heavily between you.

“Yeah, I, uh… I didn’t know either,” you finally managed to say, your voice sounding weaker than you intended. “Anders didn’t mention you were coming.”

Anders, completely oblivious to the tension in the room, just smiled and shrugged. “I thought it’d be fun to have both of you here. You’re my favorite people, after all.”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, fun.”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the concern in his eyes. He knew you hadn’t replied to his message, and he was waiting for some sign that things were okay. But you weren’t sure if they were. You weren’t sure if you could pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Anders, still blissfully unaware, handed you the bowl of popcorn. “Come on, let’s get started! I’ve been dying to watch this movie all week.”

You nodded, taking the bowl and heading to the living room, doing your best to avoid brushing against Spencer as you passed him. The three of you settled onto the couch—the same couch—and you couldn’t help but feel like you were in some twisted version of a love triangle. Except, in this version, you were the only one who felt like you were losing.

As the movie started, you found it nearly impossible to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the moment in the kitchen, to the look in Spencer’s eyes, to the fact that you were sitting mere inches away from him, and yet it felt like there was a chasm between you.

Anders, as usual, was fully engrossed in the movie, laughing at all the right moments, completely at ease. You envied him for that, for being able to enjoy the night without the weight of unspoken feelings hanging over his head.

But then, halfway through the movie, Anders got a call and had to step out of the room, leaving you and Spencer alone together. The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you before speaking. “I’m really sorry about everything,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean for things to get so complicated.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that you were the one who had let things get complicated, but the words just wouldn’t come.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” Spencer continued, his voice soft. “I miss talking to you.”

That was it. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were blinking back tears, trying desperately to keep them from falling. Your emotions, which you had kept bottled up for so long, suddenly became too much to bear.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you stood up abruptly, grabbing your things in a desperate bid to escape. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, full of concern and confusion, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. If you did, you knew you’d fall apart completely.

“Wait—” Spencer started to say, reaching out as if to stop you, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“Tell Anders whatever you want,” you said, your voice firmer this time, but still laced with the pain you were trying so hard to hide. You couldn’t stay there, not with Spencer, not with the weight of your feelings suffocating you. The thought of facing Anders, of pretending everything was normal, was impossible.

And with that, you turned and walked out of the apartment, not giving Spencer a chance to respond. The door clicked shut behind you, and the moment you were outside, the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks as you hurried to your car.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing with a mixture of regret, fear, and sadness. You had run away, leaving Spencer and Anders behind, but what else could you have done? Staying would have only prolonged the inevitable.

As you drove away, your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white. You didn’t know what Spencer would say to Anders, or how your friend would react. But at that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to get away, to put distance between yourself and the situation that had become too tangled, too painful.

When you finally reached the safety of your own home, you collapsed onto your couch, your body wracked with silent sobs. You had thought you could handle it, that you could push your feelings aside and just be friends with Spencer, but now you realized how wrong you had been.

You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was clear: you couldn’t go back to the way things were. Too much had changed, and the wound you carried was too deep to ignore. For now, all you could do was try to heal, even if it meant distancing yourself from the people you cared about most.

—

You sat on your couch, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the muted television you weren’t really watching. The events of the night replayed in your mind on a loop, your emotions a tangled mess of regret and confusion. 

When your phone rang, you almost didn’t answer, but the sight of Anders' name on the screen made you pause. You felt a pang of guilt; you had left so abruptly, and he deserved better than that. With a sigh, you answered, bracing yourself for whatever was coming.

“Hey, babe!” Anders' voice was cheerful, completely unaware of the turmoil you were in. It was comforting and yet somehow made you feel worse.

“Hey, Andy,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tension in your throat made it come out quieter than usual.

It started off as a typical conversation, Anders chatting away about his day, his plans for tomorrow, the usual banter that you were used to. You let him talk, responding here and there with murmurs of agreement, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the distance in your voice.

But then, as the conversation began to wind down, Anders asked the question you had been dreading, the one you had hoped wouldn’t come.

“So, what’s going on with you and Spencer?”

Your breath hitched, panic flaring up in your chest. “No—nothing,” you stammered, the words tumbling out before you could even think.

Anders, oblivious as ever, let out a light giggle, not cruel but definitely amused. “Babe, if you want to sleep with him too, it’s okay! Spencer and I talked, and he told me he’s not looking for anything serious. I’ll admit it hurt a bit, but I have a date tomorrow with a big hubba bubba daddy, so who cares!”

His words hit you like a truck, and it took everything in you to keep your voice steady. “Oh wow, I’m sorry, Andy,” you said, forcing out the words as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t let him know how much this conversation was affecting you. “But, uh, I don’t want to sleep with Spencer, thanks though.”

Anders didn’t seem to notice your internal struggle. He immediately launched into a rant about his upcoming date, describing in vivid detail just how sexy his new interest was. He spoke with the same enthusiasm he had always had, the kind that was contagious and usually made you laugh along with him.

But tonight, you couldn’t muster the energy. You listened, letting his words wash over you, but your mind was elsewhere. The relief that Anders was so easily distracted by his new date was tinged with a deep sadness that you couldn’t shake. He had already moved on, while you were still stuck in the mire of your own emotions, unable to let go of the complicated feelings you had for Spencer.

As Anders continued to gush about his date, you found yourself nodding along, murmuring words of encouragement and support. You tried to sound as genuine as possible, hiding the cracks in your voice as best as you could. But inside, you were reeling.

Eventually, Anders wound down, his excitement tempered by the late hour. He bid you goodnight with a cheerful, “Wish me luck tomorrow!” and you returned the sentiment, your voice softer than usual.

When the call ended, you were left alone with your thoughts once more. The apartment felt quieter than before, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. You sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in your hand, the weight of the evening settling heavily on your shoulders.

Something didn’t sit right with you, a question that buzzed in the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. Spencer had made it clear that he didn’t see Anders as anything more than a casual fling—no romantic feelings, no intellectual connection. And yet, they were still sleeping together.

You tried to shake the thought away, telling yourself it wasn’t your business. Spencer was free to make his own choices, and Anders had already moved on, or at least he seemed to be. But the more you thought about it, the more the pieces didn’t add up.

Spencer had reached out to you after that night, asking if you were okay, expressing concern for how you felt. But if he was truly worried about how his relationship with Anders was affecting you, wouldn’t he have stopped sleeping with your friend? Wouldn’t he have made some kind of decision, some gesture to show that he was considering your feelings?

The thought gnawed at you, making your chest tighten with a mix of confusion and hurt. It felt like a betrayal, even if you didn’t have any real claim on Spencer’s actions. You had been trying so hard to navigate your feelings, to be a good friend, to keep the peace between everyone involved. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if Spencer had been as considerate of you as you had been of him.

Anders’ casual mention that you could sleep with Spencer too—it felt wrong, like you were being invited into something you had no business being part of. If Spencer really cared about you, if he really wanted to figure things out between you two, wouldn’t he put a stop to his arrangement with Anders? Wouldn’t he want to keep things clear, to avoid complicating an already messy situation?

Your mind spiraled with these questions, each one cutting deeper than the last. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to be rational, to not make things more difficult than they already were. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one trying to keep things from falling apart.

Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe Spencer just didn’t realize how much it was affecting you. But deep down, you knew that if he cared—really cared—he would have made a different choice. He wouldn’t have kept things going with Anders, knowing how tangled and painful this whole situation had become.

The realization hit you hard, a wave of sadness washing over you. You had wanted so badly to believe that Spencer was different, that he saw you as more than just someone in the background of his life. But now, it felt like you were just another person he could compartmentalize, another relationship he could keep separate and convenient.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as the hurt and disappointment settled in. You had been so focused on keeping the peace, on not causing trouble, that you had ignored your own feelings in the process. And now, you were left wondering if Spencer had ever truly considered how much this was hurting you.

With a heavy heart, you realized that you couldn’t keep ignoring this. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Something had to change, and it wasn’t going to be easy. But you couldn’t keep sacrificing your own well-being for the sake of others, not anymore.

You picked up your phone, staring at the message Spencer had sent days ago. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation gnawing at you. Part of you wanted to reply, to tell him everything, to ask him why he hadn’t made a different choice. But another part of you—the part that had been trying to protect yourself—wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear the answer.

Finally, you set the phone down, deciding that you were done with Spencer Reid.

—

A few weeks later, you found yourself wandering the aisles of the grocery store, lost in thought as you tried to focus on the mundane task of shopping. You were staring blankly at the jars of pickles in front of you when you heard your name being called out.

“Y/N!”

The familiar voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to see Spencer walking towards you, a broad smile on his face. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Hi,” you replied with a polite nod, your tone deliberately neutral.

“How are you?” Spencer asked, his excitement still evident as he stopped beside you.

“Fine,” you said shortly, your eyes returning to the jars, though you weren’t really seeing them. Your thoughts were swirling too much to focus on something as trivial as grocery shopping.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, a confused, almost puppy-like expression on his face. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Mad? No,” you dismissed the idea with a wave of your hand, shaking your head. You weren’t mad—frustrated, hurt, disappointed, maybe, but not mad.

“Oh,” Spencer said, pondering your response. “But you haven’t been talking to me.”

Finally, you turned to face him, your expression guarded. “I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?” you said, playing dumb, trying to keep the conversation as surface-level as possible.

“Y/N,” he sighed, his tone more serious now. “You know what I mean. You never texted me back. And you left movie night.”

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow. “Well, duh, why would I want to be around when my friend’s fuck buddy is there?” you said, as if it were a joke, though there was a biting edge to your words.

Spencer laughed, but it was a dejected sound, lacking the usual warmth. “Ouch. That’s all I am?”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, your voice sharper than you intended. You couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into your tone.

Spencer nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Look, I put myself out there a few times, and you shot me down, so—”

“Oh my god, that is so not what this is about, Spencer,” you interrupted, your frustration bubbling over. How could he be so oblivious?

“No? Then why are you acting like this?” Spencer asked, his confusion evident. He genuinely didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

“God, you’re dense,” you muttered, shaking your head in exasperation. “Just… be nice to Anders, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

And there it was—confirmation that he was still sleeping with Anders. A wave of disappointment washed over you, the last bit of hope you had clung to slipping away. If Spencer had really liked you, if he had genuinely wanted to be with you, wouldn’t he have stopped all his other conquests and focused on pursuing you? But he hadn’t. He was still entangled with your friend, and that spoke volumes.

Oh well, you thought to yourself, trying to brush off the sinking feeling in your chest. Maybe you had been foolish to think there could have been something more between you and Spencer. Maybe it was time to let go of whatever feelings you had and move on, just like Anders had.

—

At another movie night, you could feel the excitement radiating off Anders from the moment you walked through the door. He was practically bouncing on his feet, unable to contain the big news he was bursting to share.

“Y/N! You will not believe this!” Anders squealed, practically jumping up and down. “His name is Hugh and ugh, he’s so yummy!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Really? Tell me more,” you urged, genuinely curious.

“He’s amazing!” Anders continued, his eyes lighting up. “He holds the door open for me, pulls my chair out, and always makes sure I finish first. He’s such a gentleman!”

“That’s great, Andy,” you said, smiling warmly at him. You could tell how happy he was, and it warmed your heart to see your friend so giddy and content.

“I know, right?” Anders clapped his hands together, unable to contain his joy. “And guess what? He asked me to be his boyfriend! Can you believe that?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Did you say yes?”

“Of course I did!” Anders giggled, his happiness practically infectious. “He’s everything I’ve been looking for!”

You hesitated for a moment, the question that had been nagging at you since your last conversation with Spencer lingering in the back of your mind. You had to know. “So…did you cut things off with Spencer?”

Anders rolled his eyes playfully and waved a hand dismissively. “Duh! I’m a slut, not a monster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his candid response, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else. “I’m glad, Andy. Hugh sounds like a really great guy.”

“He is!” Anders beamed, his face glowing with happiness. “I’m so excited, Y/N. I really think this could be something special.”

You smiled, genuinely happy for your friend. “I’m sure it will be, Andy. You deserve someone who treats you like the amazing person you are.”

Anders gave you a big hug, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you, babe.”

As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Knowing that Anders had moved on, and that things with Spencer were over, helped ease some of the tension that had been weighing on you. It was clear now that Anders had found something real with Hugh, and maybe that meant it was time for you to move forward too.

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might actually work out, not just for Anders, but for yourself as well.

—

You stared at the text on your phone, the all-too-familiar You up? glowing on the screen. It was so cliché, so typical of Spencer to send that kind of message at 10 p.m. You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and frustration bubbling up inside you. After everything, this was how he reached out? You didn’t dignify it with a response, instead turning on your read receipts and locking your phone. Let him know you saw it, and let him stew in it.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

Y/N.

The second message made your frustration spike even more. You read it, let it sit there, and ignored it again. Why should you give him the satisfaction of a reply? He had plenty of chances to talk, to say what needed to be said, and now, after you’d started to move on, he decided he needed to talk? 

The next message, however, caught your attention.

Please, I need to talk to you.

You hesitated for a moment, your finger hovering over the screen. Against your better judgment, you finally replied, the words coming out more curtly than you intended.

Get it out quickly then.

You stared at your phone, waiting for Spencer to respond. Seconds turned into minutes, and still nothing. The longer you waited, the more irritated you became. Why did he always have to make things so difficult? You scoffed after 30 minutes, tossing your phone aside with a bitter laugh. 

What an asshole, you thought. You had given him the chance to say whatever he needed to say, and now he was the one ignoring you? The nerve of it made your blood boil. You were done with this game.

But then, just as you were about to brush it off entirely, there was a knock at your front door.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the sound echoed through your apartment. For a moment, you just stared at the door, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Who could it be at this hour? And then it hit you—Spencer.

With a bit of reluctance and curiosity, you got up and walked to the door, your footsteps soft on the floor. When you reached it, you hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath before finally opening it.

There he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and uncertain. The sight of him standing there, so close and yet so far, made your heart clench.

“Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Can I come in?”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a chaotic mess. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, to tell him to leave and never come back. But another part, the part that still cared despite everything, wanted to know what he had to say, to understand why he was here.

“Why are you here, Spencer?” you asked, your voice guarded as you crossed your arms.

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your resolve waver. “Because I couldn’t wait any longer. I need to talk to you. Please, just give me a few minutes.”

You didn’t move, your mind racing as you tried to decide what to do. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stepped aside and opened the door wider, letting him in. 

Spencer walked past you, his shoulders tense, and you could feel the weight of whatever he was carrying with him. As you closed the door behind him, you prepared yourself for whatever was about to come, knowing that this conversation would change everything—one way or another.

"Alright, speak," you said, your tone flat as you stood by the front door, making it clear that you weren't about to give Spencer the comfort of sitting down. If he wanted to talk, he could do it on your terms.

Spencer looked pained at your coldness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the warmth that used to be there. "Anders ended things," he finally said, his voice strained.

"I know," you replied, your voice still devoid of emotion.

He looked surprised by your response, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Okay, well, I'm done with that. With the casual thing."

"Okay," you echoed, your tone unchanged. You weren't giving him anything, and you could see the frustration mounting in his expression.

Spencer's face was full of desperation as he took a step closer, his voice pleading. "Y/N, I want you."

"Interesting," you replied, the word dripping with indifference. It was a far cry from the response he was hoping for, and you could see the effect it had on him.

He groaned, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "What did I do to you?"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling a surge of anger at his question. The nerve of him to act like he didn’t know, like he hadn’t been the one to string you along while still entertaining other options. "Do you want a list?"

Spencer looked taken aback, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how deep the hurt ran. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. "I didn’t know—"

"You didn’t know?" you cut him off, your voice rising slightly as the frustration that had been building inside you finally found an outlet. "You didn’t know that sleeping with my friend while pretending to care about me might hurt? You didn’t know that making me feel like I was just another option would push me away?"

Spencer flinched at your words, his eyes filled with guilt. "It wasn’t like that. I was confused—I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I know now. I know I want you."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Anders ended things with you, and now you want me? Is that it, Spencer? Am I just your backup plan?"

"No, it’s not like that!" Spencer protested, his voice desperate. "I’ve wanted you from the beginning, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I was scared you didn’t feel the same way, so I kept things casual with Anders because it was easier."

"Easier?" you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. "You were too scared to put yourself out there with me, so you settled for something convenient. And now that that’s over, you think you can just waltz in here and tell me you want me, and everything will be okay?"

Spencer looked stricken, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I’m here now, trying to make it right. I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, but please, just give me a chance."

You stared at him, your heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let yourself fall into the hope that things could be different. But the pain was still too fresh, the wounds too deep.

"I don’t know if I can do this," you admitted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally let some of your emotions show. "You hurt me, Spencer. You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, like I was just another option. I don’t know if I can trust you not to do that again."

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. "I’m not going to hurt you again. I swear. I was an idiot, and I didn’t see what was right in front of me. But I see it now. I see you. And I want you more than anything."

You swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I need time," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can’t just jump into this. I need to figure out if I can trust you."

Spencer nodded, his expression earnest. "Take all the time you need. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just… don’t shut me out completely. Please."

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But it wasn’t going to be easy. There were still a lot of wounds that needed to heal.

"Okay," you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. "But no promises, Spencer. I need to protect myself."

"I understand," Spencer replied, his voice soft. "I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

With that, you both stood there in silence, the tension slowly easing as the gravity of the moment settled between you. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

—

Spencer stayed true to his word. He tried—really tried—to show you that he was serious about earning back your trust. And with each small gesture, he began to chip away at the walls you had built around your heart.

It started with little things, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word. One day, a bouquet of your favorite flowers showed up at your apartment, their vibrant colors brightening up your living room. You stared at them for a long time, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You hadn’t mentioned those flowers in a long time, but Spencer had remembered.

Then, it happened again, this time at your office. Another bouquet, just like the first, with a small note attached that simply said, “Thinking of you. -Spencer.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, despite the lingering caution in your heart.

As the days went on, you started finding coffee and pastries from your favorite bakery on your desk at work, always timed perfectly with when you arrived. There was never any fanfare, no messages or notes—just the simple presence of something you loved, waiting for you. It was as if Spencer was reminding you, in the subtlest of ways, that he was paying attention, that he cared.

But it wasn’t just the thoughtful gifts that caught your attention. Every night, like clockwork, your phone would buzz with a picture. It was always the same—Spencer, alone in bed, a soft, almost shy smile on his face as he looked into the camera. No words accompanied the photos, but the message was clear. He was alone, thinking of you, wanting you to know that you were on his mind before he fell asleep.

And then, there was the location sharing. One day, out of the blue, you received a notification on your phone that Spencer had shared his location with you indefinitely. You stared at the message, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over you. It was a level of transparency you hadn’t expected, and it made your heart ache with the realization that he was really trying—really showing you that he had nothing to hide.

Slowly, despite your best efforts to stay guarded, you found yourself softening. Each gesture, each reminder that Spencer was thinking of you, began to ease the tension that had been coiled so tightly inside you. It didn’t erase the hurt, and it didn’t magically fix everything, but it made you believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth taking a chance on.

One evening, after receiving yet another picture of Spencer alone in bed, you finally caved. You picked up your phone and sent a quick message, simple but full of meaning.

Thank you.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A way to let him know that his efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed, that you were beginning to see the sincerity behind his actions. And as you waited for his reply, a small part of you began to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

Spencer’s response came almost immediately, a single word that made your heart flutter.

Always.

And in that moment, you realized that perhaps, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were beginning to believe that this time, Spencer really meant it. That he was really trying to be the man you deserved. And that maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself believe in him too.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[vigilskeep]

Please do Surana and Anders for the connection game!

because they straight up just lived in the same building and also know each other in canon im finding it hard to come up with anything Wild so here are a few of my favourite surana and anders dynamics and a couple more random ones i’m going to come up with right now:

the classic: surana is anders’ favourite because they’re always down to cause a distraction or lie sweetly for any shenanigan he might wish to engage in

alternately, surana was a teacher’s pet in the circle and avoided anders like his condition was contagious, which is why anders, unaware they’ve had a character arc, is completely baffled by them recruiting him from under the templars’ noses (i use this one it’s a delight)

surana was the sweetest spirit healer student with the best bedside manner and the most generally glowing vibes and the ONE thing that could destroy their eternal sunny mood was the fact that anders, who constantly skipped class to escape the circle or have a makeout session or go into solitary confinement or whatever took his fancy, is still better than them at healing. drives them absolutely off the edge

alternately, anders had to sit next to surana in entropy class despite being a good 5-10 years older, because he sucks at it so much. he copied their work too

one of the times anders got caught after an escape was because he stopped to try and help surana who had just been found by the templars. alternatively, anders didn’t stop, in a frozen, panicked moment of selfishness, and surana remembers

surana’s status as Most Special Student meant they got to walk past the solitary cells to pick up artefacts for irving’s studies from the repository, and they would pass messages to him on the way

surana had a teenage pregnancy and anders, who helped deliver the baby, was also the one to impulsively bar the room or start a distraction with magic, so surana could have just a few minutes with their child

anders was surana’s assigned dance partner in the dance lessons i’ve theorised the circle has, purely because someone thought the height difference would be funny. they got really good at it out of pure spite

most of these apply for amell too of course

[stardustjie]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎

here we are, finally! its my first time writing for ellie. i guess i'm feeling a little nostalgic lately ♡ i remember getting my crush on her around this time.

dating ellie is definitely an experence. she is the type of girlfriend who would spend hours talking about astronomy and space and those things that make her excited. even before you got together, you two talked about your common interests until dawn came. especially when she doesn't have patrol the morning after. now that you are exclusive and you spend most of the time in her home, she loves to fill the silence with her ramblings and you love to listen.

your girlfriend would adore to do the other way around as well, watching you with love-struck eyes as you keep talking about the subjects you are passionate about for hours. she would adore listening to your voice while you get in your adorable rabbit holes, even if she wouldn’t care about the topic normally. but she does care about you.

when it comes to affection, ellie doesn't show much in public. PDA oftentimes stops at holding hands and being close in public, like putting a hand on your shoulders while you are at the bar in town with the others. however, sometimes she lets herself give you light kisses on the lips in front of your friends. if she is a little tipsy that evening, she might even nestle her face against your neck.

home dates are her favourite because she gets to snuggle against you while watching a movie or something like that, especially the old sci-fi ones. you would prepare for all afternoon, trying to gather all the essentials to have the perfect movie night like its some type of super fancy event. then you would just cuddle during the entire movie, until one inevitably falls asleep.

unsurprisingly, ellie is really affectionate at home. anyone who isnt close to her wouldn’t really guess how everytime you two are alone you cannot be in the same room as her without having your hand brushing and then a kiss on the lips and then again you are snuggling on the sofa. she just adores your touch, especially when the relationship is new and there is this feeling of excitement everytime you are together.

her love languages are physical touch and quality time. cuddles are pretty much equal, she loves to snuggle against you as much as she loves having her pretty girl nestled in her arms. her favourite positions is on the bed, when you two ander the covers and you are facing each other. she also tries to spend any moment she gets with you, it doesn't matter what you choose to do. however, when spring comes and she has free time ahe loves to take you to feed the horses.

ellie writes in her journal about you, both before and after you get together. she loves to include little details about you and she draws sketches of you from time to time, even if she is quite embarassed to show you. except for that one time when you caught her drawing you while she was waiting you for your date, at that point she had to show you. she was blushing the entire time, but she hates to admit it.

[barbex]

Lovely Friday to you <3 For DADWC, I'd love to see “Stay here tonight.” for Anders and Fenris? <3

Hello and thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting. As always, Fenris and Anders were very inspiring.

---

Anders still can't quite believe it. Fenris invited him to a game of cards with Varric and Donnik, at his place. He stares at the weathered door of the mansion, still not sure if he should really go in. Why would Fenris invite him, without Hawke around? It makes no sense. 

Their friendship — no, that is too much. Their mutual tolerance depends on their friends being around, especially Hawke. Aside from Hawke's frankly terrifying proficiency with force magic, he also has the ability to form a bunch of weirdos into a group of friends. It even works on Fenris and him, the two of them haven't fought in months. It's like a special kind of magic he has.

Anders finally opens the door, clutching the handkerchief with his contribution for the evening to his chest. He can't afford to buy the fancy wine Fenris prefers, but hopefully, the cheese fingers he baked in Lirene's oven are good enough as a small gift. 

Voices come from the main hall and the light of a fire shines into the hallway through a gap in the door. Anders walks forward, drawn to the warmth promised by the fire. The wind from the Waking Sea blows through Kirkwall's streets at this time of the year, even in his coat he feels cold all the time.

Before the others can notice him, he stops near the door, hidden from view. He still feels like an intruder, like he doesn't really belong here. He often feels like that to be honest. It's only when Hawke is around, pulling them all into his orbit, that he doesn't feel like he's the nagging baggage they have to carry around. 

Varric laughs, recounting some tale to Donnic, pouring wine into his glass. Donnic's face is flushed, they must have started early if he is already so deep in his cups. Anders sighs, no, it must be later than he thought. It was a busy day at the clinic and then that young woman came in with her baby, just as he wanted to close. He lost track of time and now he's too late.

He looks at Fenris, sitting on the narrow side of the table, facing the door. He looks relaxed, not quite as flushed as Varric and Donnic, but he is in better training holding his wine. He smiles at the joke Varric is making and Maker, it's unbearable how beautiful he looks with that smile. Anders stands transfixed, hiding in the shadow, watching like a kid staring at a bowl of sweets he can't have. Like a creep. 

He should leave. 

But he made the cheese fingers. Maybe Fenris would like to try them. He doesn't have to stay long, just give him the cheesy things and be off again.

With a breath, he pulls the door further open and steps in. 

"Anders," Varric calls out, "glad you could make it!"

"Sorry I'm late. There was an emergency at the clinic..." He makes to put the handkerchief with his offering on the table when he sees the loose pile of Diamondback cards. "You wanted to play Diamondback." The game needs four players and because he didn't arrive on time, they couldn't play. "Sorry." 

"It was no problem," Fenris says. "We were entertained just fine." His voice sounds so warm that Anders blinks, doubting his own ears. 

"Well, still, I shouldn't have left you hanging." He puts the handkerchief on the table and folds the corner to the sides, revealing the fereldan speciality. "These are cheese fingers, like they make them in Ferelden. Let me know if you like them." He turns around and practically runs to the door.

"Mage?" Fenris calls after him but he doesn't stop. He embarrassed himself enough for one night, he doesn't need more awkwardness and polite dismissals.

"Mage." Fenris is right behind him, however he managed to be so fast. "Anders."

Hearing his name, from Fenris of all people, has him stop, just before he reaches the frontdoor. "Sorry, I'm just gonna leave."

"Why?"

A strange laugh escapes him. Maker, is he going to get hysterics now? "I don't know why you even invited me, I'm sure Varric and Donnic wonder about that too."

"No, they don't." 

Another strange laugh, sounding suspiciously like he's about to start crying and no, he's not going to do that. "I'm..."

"We are friends, with or without Hawke." Fenris puts his hand on Anders' elbow and gently steers him back towards the main hall. "Maybe you and I are not close, not yet. But what better way to change that than over wine and cheese pokers?"

"Fingers, cheese fingers," Anders corrects automatically, his mind still spinning in several directions over what Fenris said. There are questions bubbling in there somewhere but he can't get himself to ask any of them and then he is back at the table, sitting in a sinfully comfortable stuffed chair and Fenris fills a glass of wine for him. 

The wine makes everything a little bit easier, but with his Warden stamina and Justice in the background, he doesn't get drunk. But he can play an easy drunk, he's done that plenty of times and it makes it easy to laugh about silly jokes that aren't even that funny but Varric laughs and Donnic laughs and Fenris — Fenris looks at him and smiles.

It's enough to stop a man's heart.

The evening progresses quickly, his cheese fingers get praised, and at some point Fenris brings a carafe of water and Anders and him switch to water instead of wine. When Varric yawns and Donnic wipes his eyes, Anders fills their glasses with water. "There, you both drink that, then you won't suffer so much in the morning."

"Ugh, don't like that," Varric slurs. 

"Healer's orders."

Fenris glances at Anders, smiling as if they share a joke between them. Like friends. He isn't sure his heart can take much more of this. What is happening? Is Fenris really looking at him like that, smiling, flirting? Or is this just his wishful imagination?

"We should take them both home," Fenris says. 

"Good idea. They would be easy pickings in this state."

They deliver Donnic to Aveline's door, who thanks them and glares at her husband with a mixture of fondness and annoyance. And then they drag Varric between them to the Hanged Man. He insists on bidding them good night at the door, wanting to keep his reputation by going to his suite without their help. 

And then they're alone. They walk, silently, back to Hightown, to Fenris' mansion. Which is ridiculous, he could have just taken one of the ladders down to Darktown from Lowtown. He could have just given his farewells right there at the Hanged Man, like he has done hundreds of times after an evening with Hawke and Varric and the rest of the gang. 

"Your cheese pokers were really good," Fenris says, haltingly. 

"Cheese fingers. Thanks. I found the recipe in a cookbook at an inn in Ferelden and making the cheese fingers paid for a bed for one night." 

"You were a baker?" Fenris smiles at him from under a curtain of white hair, which hopefully hides Anders' furious blush from him.

"No, there's not many opportunities for travelling bakers without their own flour supply." They fall silent again and the awkwardness drives him crazy. "Fenris, thank you for inviting me tonight, but..." As if someone tipped over a bucket, rain splatters down on them. "Aw, shit." Within seconds, his coat is soaked, hanging like dead weight on his shoulders. 

"Come." Fenris grabs his arm and pulls him forward, running up the stairs and through the grand roads of Hightown. The wind picks up as thunder rolls over the sky and Anders would have shivered if he wasn't so hot from running up those damn stairs. 

"Stop, stop," he wheezes. Rain runs down his neck and back but he doesn't care, he has to catch his breath for a minute. Why is he even doing this? "You... you can just go, right? You don't need me to take you home. And I'm —"

Fenris steps in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes. "No."

"No?" Anders wipes wet hair from his forehead. By now he must look like a drowned rat. "Fenris, what is going on? What is..." he gestures between them. "What is this?"

The expression on Fenris' face lies somewhere between confusion and panic. "I hoped you would know."

"Me?" He can't help but laugh, genuinely. "You don't even know what an emotional disaster I am. And I'm supposed to know?"

Fenris just looks at him. 

"Fuck it. If I'm supposed to know, here's what I know." Anders steps closer, touches the side of Fenris' face, and kisses him. 

Fenris doesn't even hesitate. As if he just waited for Anders, he throws his arms around Anders' neck and kisses him back like his life depends on it. 

"Oh," Anders breathes against Fenris' lips. 

"Yes," Fenris whispers, pressing his forehead against Anders'. "Come." He takes Anders' hand and pulls him after him.

The rain still beats down, but Anders floats on clouds, not even aware of where he's going. Finally, the door to the mansion closes behind them and he can let the weight of his wet coat slide from his shoulders. 

Fenris wipes over Anders' shoulders, pressing close. Anders leans down, brushing his nose into his hair.

"I don't want to be indecent," Anders says. "But we should get out of these wet things."

Fenris nods, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to Anders' neck. "I don't mean to rush, but I want you to stay here."

"Tonight," Anders whispers as his lips brush over Fenris' temple.

"And tomorrow night." Fenris kisses along Anders' neck. "And the night after that."

Anders shudders from Fenris' kisses. "And the night after that?"

Fenris leans back, green eyes fixing Anders in time and space. "And the night after that."

Brushing hair out of Fenris' face, Anders holds his gaze. "And then we'll see."

Stretching up on his toes, Fenris kisses his lips. "Yes, and then we'll see."

[sweetmage]

Happy Friday!! 🥰💚 if it tickles your fancy, can I send a prompt from you bad things happen bingo card? I’m thinking ‘not used to freedom’ for Anders/Hawke… bonus points for some inky Hawke? 👀

Hi hi hi hi! :D Thank you so much for the prompt! 💖💖💖 @dadrunkwriting --- Words: 2000+ Characters: Hawke, Anders, Varric Tags: Anxiety, Inquisitor!Hawke, Supportive Hawke, Supportive Varric, Sexual Innuendo, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Having woken up early, Anders decided to leave Hawke to his rest and take a walk around Haven. Even with the protections Hawke had demanded for him and other mages, Anders still couldn't shake the instinct to constantly look over his shoulder.

The morning dawned warm and bright, sunlight streaming in through the slats of the walls and falling across the bed, painting their bodies gold.

Anders could never get used to waking in Haven. He couldn't get used to many things, lately, after everything had changed.

Hawke was out cold, all of his strength and intensity softened by sleep, his features slack and breath deep. Anders glanced over to inspect Hawke's hand. The angry tinge was gone, the flesh returned to its usual hue, and the mark still seemed stable as far as he could tell. That, too, was hard to get used to.

He quietly wiggled himself out of bed, careful not to disturb Hawke who, in all his tossing and turning, managed to take up most of the bed save for the small corner Anders had tucked himself into. But it was no matter. He didn't have to ask to know that Hawke had been losing sleep, the evidence written in the deep purple beneath his eyes and the exhaustion in his voice whenever they spoke. He deserved his rest.

Anders found his coat and boots at the door and slipped into them both, braving himself for the Fereldan chill beyond the door. Or perhaps he simply wanted another layer between himself and the world.

He shut the door behind him, taking in a lungful of crisp mountain air, savoring it. This still felt as though it wasn't allowed. Not long ago, he would have been hunted for less, endangered for the 'crime' of standing freely outside. It was hard to believe that this wasn't a dream.

He didn't linger too long in one spot, his feet still antsy and eager to flee, but he couldn't bring himself to stray too far either. It was odd to think back on how he was once so eager to book it on foot whenever the templars in the circle turned their backs. Hours of eager swimming and running just to go lounge around in brothels or wander the streets in obvious circle robes, enjoying his freedom for the sake of it all. Though the abuse upon his recapture was always severe and inevitable, he had faith he'd escape again. Freedom was worth the risk.

Kirkwall had changed him. It was no longer a few kicks to the head or even a year in solitary that he had to look forward to if they got ahold of him. He was no longer a brat that weaseled his way under templars's skin with his was and escape attempts. He was a fugitive, a revolutionary, one whose crimes were inflated and misrepresented, whose face was plastered upon shops begging for it to be delivered on a spike. The past three years had seen them running from it, sticking to seclusion and secrecy, never truly living beyond their shared company. Should they have come sniffing for Anders, Hawke would have been dragged in too and that was a punishment Anders couldn't stomach.

He couldn't say he enjoyed Hawke's new position, the 'Herald of Andraste' as they had taken to calling him, the figurehead of some chantry nonsense and all that entailed. He couldn't say he enjoyed Hawke leaving either, often for days at a time, putting him at risk of a dozen different sorts of trouble. But good had come from it quickly. Rebel mages who had been put out of Redcliffe for the 'crime' of being preyed upon in their most vulnerable hour had found a safe haven here under Hawke's influence. 

Even before that, Hawke had so stubbornly refused to aid the glorified templar Cassandra and her lackeys in any way unless her little pet project offered Anders full immunity and provided him with protection. All it took was a threat of walking away, leaving the world to fall to ruin, and they relented. They must have known he wasn't bluffing.

No one wanted the world to end. It was the one thing less desirable than running Anders and Hawke through or branding them Tranquil.

For all that and more, he felt guilty that he struggled to accept the freedom he'd been afforded. 

He wandered a little further than he had yesterday, taking slow, careful strides around the courtyard until he spotted Varric leaning against a stack of crates and looking over a scroll, a cup of coffee steaming on the ground beside him.

He averted his eyes quickly, as though a six-foot feathery man in all black was inconspicuous against the snowy backdrop, but it was far too late. 

"There you are, Blondie," he called, waving him over. "Figured you'd be hiding out somewhere. Didn't think you'd be so obvious about it though."

He paused and hunched, smiling sheepishly. "I'm not hiding, I'm just... taking a walk."

"Ah, so that explains the suspicious, 'I've got something to hide' look on your face and the 'I'm about to make a break for it' stance," Varric called back. 

His smile fell in an instant, replaced by a sour scowl. "There are—" He sighed, glanced around, then threw up his hands before trudging over to Varric's side. He lowered his voice, looking down at him, "This place is still swarming with templars. For all I know, any one of them could still be itching to serve my head up on a plate."

"Is 'Apostate-au-gratin' a Fereldan delicacy? I can never keep track of these things..." Varric mused, setting aside his scroll. 

"Something like that..." Anders replied, lips twitching upwards despite his best efforts.

"Come on, Blondie, it's already been a week. No one's coming for you. Do you really think Hawke would let that happen?"

Anders looked around once more as if searching for the ears he expected to be listening in. "Well, no, but..."

"But what?" Varric prodded.

"Why do you have to ask so many questions? It's easier when I don't have to think too hard about things," Anders complained, though there was no bite behind his words.

"I'm an author, it's what I do. The good stuff is all in the questions. And I think you've got the overthinking bit down," he waved his mug in his direction, a crooked smile on his lips.

"I just see how they treat him. How long until they've used him for all he's worth and—"

"Using me for all I'm worth? Anders, I'm appalled. How many times have I told you not to tell Varric what we do in the bedroom? Or at least make me sound cooler..." A familiar, tired voice greeted him from behind. Hawke appeared, as if from nowhere, at his side, his hand sliding into place on the small of Anders's back. 

Heat shot from his neck to ears, a flush surely blooming on his cheeks. "That is not what I meant and you know it."

"Mmhmm," Hawke hummed, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I missed you in bed this morning. I woke up all cold and lonely."

"You rolled over and pushed me halfway out so I figured I'd take that as my cue to get up and have a walk. I thought you might appreciate the rest. Sorry for being a bad little apostate and leaving you all on your own." Anders rolled his eyes

"You know what I do with bad little apostates..." Hawke gave a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Do you two need some privacy? I can always take a walk." Varric offered, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Actually, we'll be taking a walk ourselves, right love?" Anders asked, turning his eyes to him, silently pleading. He still found himself more nervous than he ought to be lingering out of doors on his own.

"I was thinking about hitting the tavern. Let's maybe take the long way around." Hawke looked between the two of them and then smiled at Varric. "Actually, maybe you should take that walk, Varric. We'll catch up to you there."

"You got it, Hawke," Varric said, seeming in a rush to finish his scroll and coffee.

They turned from him then, Hawke's arm still wound around his waist as they spun back to the path that led the far way around.

"Are you alright?" Hawke asked him, voice low for Anders's ears alone. "It's not like you to be out and about this early."

Anders paused. "I... wanted to enjoy the day, I guess. Have a nice stroll without worrying about templars at my heels." 

"And yet I can't help but notice you look pretty damn worried," Hawke noted, reading him as easily as if he had written the book himself.

"I never said I was successful," he sighed. "I'm just... having a hard time adjusting. I've spent the last three years keeping my head down, never staying in one place too long. And now..."

"I already told you, no one is going to hurt you here. I wouldn't let them. You're safe," Hawke assured him, tightening his grip.

"Edan told me the same," he said, speaking of the Hero of Ferelden. "Next thing I knew I was skewered by a Templar's sword before being chased out of Fereldan."

"Didn't you say he was gone at the time? Someone else serving as stand-in Commander? There's only one 'Herald of Andraste' or Maker knows what other atrocious names they're calling me now. If I leave, they're fucked. If they don't cross me, I won't leave. It's pretty simple, really, I think even the dumbest templars can grasp it."

"I guess so..." Anders sighed again, turning his eyes back to the pathway, reluctant to meet his eyes. "As I was trying to tell Varric before you swooped in like a big, handsome bird and interrupted, I'm worried. When you're not useful to them anymore, what's stopping them from turning on us? On you? The Chantry always turns its back on mages."

"You should know better than anyone. We have enough rebel mages for another revolt, let them try and put us down. But I can't say I see the point in dwelling on the hypothetical when it could all work itself out, anyway."

"So you don't think about it ever? You just live your life in blissful ignorance and hope for the best?"

"I just live my life period. I've had it with the fear and worrying and waiting for the world to fall apart. If it does, I don't want to spend my final days in misery."

"That's... almost admirable. I don't know how you do it." Anders wished he could be so carefree again, reveling in living for the sake of it. But the weight of his past experiences felt like a heavy yoke around his neck. He couldn't quite shake it off.

Hawke, at first, seemed to be ignoring him, stretching his free arm overhead and drawing in a long, deep breath. Then he turned to catch his gaze, a pleasant smile on his lips. "Nice day out, isn't it? The sun is shining, the breeze is breezy, the birds are loud and squawking. And no one's trying to kill us. Can't beat that."

Anders sighed, but a small smile pulled at his lips. "It is a nice day," he conceded, leaning into Hawke's side, resting his head upon his shoulder. 

"There you go. If you need a further push, you know there's nothing templars hate more than a happy mage. Maker forbid you smile a little."

Even as a crease formed down the center of his brow, his smile widened, a laugh bubbling forth. "Fine. I'm smiling, see? Templars quiver in their boots." He lifted his head from Hawke's shoulder to face him, expression as jovial as his voice. "And while I'm at it, I'll even sing in the tavern, maybe even do a little shimmy. Wouldn't that terrify them?" 

"Maker have mercy, that will terrify everyone," Hawke teased, earning a playful shove. 

Before he knew it, they were almost there. They'd passed by the templars training and the sisters squabbling and he'd hardly noticed, too lost in the cool morning and Hawke's pleasant company. 

"Thank you," he said when they stalled outside the door. "For not letting me brood myself into the Void."

Hawke took his face between his hands and kissed him, briefly but sweetly. "Anytime," he promised. "Let's go have a drink. Or five. I'll need it before you get to howling."

"Lead the way, Herald," Anders teased, slipping an arm around his waist as they stepped inside.

[wicked-witch-for-hire]

The Artifacts of Karsus and the Crown Of Horns

This post was inspired by several things:

- u/lookitsnichole 's question: if Mystra is melding together with Midnight, why don't we say that Karsus is melding with Gale

- what are the tasks of archmages and Chosens, which made me think about eldritch artifacts thanks to u/Valetheera

- and I would lie if I would say that the situation with Anders & Justice or rather Vengeance was not also in my mind.

What I posit is this:

The idea of Ascension may have been planted in Gale by the Orb & the Crown when he was in close proximity to both of them.

The changes in GodGale are just partly due to ascension and shedding humanity - he is at the minimum greatly influenced by these artifacts. It is possible that they are slowly melding together, or that in time the "Karsus" part can take over completely.

First what are the orb and the crown, and what became of Karsus?

Karsus became a god for an infinitesimally short time, and is considered to be a demi-god. Mystryl sacrifised herself, thus cut all magic and stopped Karsus's spell in the process, and transformed Karsus into stone. Karsus died but he did not go to the Fugue Plane (where souls normally go), but stayed on the Material Plane. His vestige can be called upon by powerful magic users. (Neverwinter Nights: Shadows of Undrentide).

From the Annals of Karsus

My great spell of transcendence is mine alone, not to be committed to ink and parchment, but I have also forged three supreme enchanted items that are the physical embodiments of my wizardry, and of them I shall make record.

There is a Crown, an Orb, and a Sceptre, each night-alive and with its own power and purpose, and these I call the Regalia of Karsus.

The Crown of Karsus: to attract and absorb magical knowledge, and give the wearer dominion over himself so that he remains his own entity apart from the Weave.

The Orb of Karsus: a storage device or battery that condenses mystic power, ever-gathering so that it must be syphoned at intervals of its excess.

The Sceptre of Karsus: an instrument of projection, a focusing utensil for the precise wielding of unimaginably vast forces. (in Mystra's possession)

Know of these items you must, for if I fail to achieve immortality, they will persist, and I dare say, 'live' on beyond me.

The next question is do we have any other example of something created by a god for nefarious purposes, an evil & intelligent artifact which was capable of corrupting and even transforming the minds of its wearers? Even after the death of its forger?

Say hello to the Crown of Horns!

It was very likely forged by Myrkul (or reforged by him from an ancient Netherese artifact).

This artifact is possessed by Myrkul, sentient and it is capable to interfere with the minds of its wearers.

Following the god's destruction, the vestiges of Myrkul could strongly influence the actions of whomever wore the Crown of Horns, making suggestions within their consciousness, possessing them outright, and even altering their moral and ethical outlook to more closely resemble his own (this is fancy D&D talk for "this artifact will change your alignment to neutral evil"). No individual could remove their crown unless Myrkul's essence wished for his artifact to find a new host.

Laeral Silverhand was one of the Seven Sisters - one of the mortal daughters of Mystra (2.0), who was also a Chosen of Mystra. She was an incredibly powerful mage, and she was specifically gifted in creating artifacts, until she donned this Crown. In her own words:

"We found an artifact, the Crown of Horns, and I in my pride decided that my powers of will and magic were sufficient to counter the evil I sensed within it. I wore the Crown, and it claimed me as its own. Years went by, terrible years during which I lost Laeral and became the Wild Woman, the Witch of the North. I remember little of those years, which in many ways is a blessing."

Theorycrafting time & conclusion

When I look at GodGale I see remnants of Gale in him - he comes back for his love - but I mostly see the terrible, unsatisfiable hunger of the Orb personified as a God of Ambition. HumanGale had ambitions yes, but these ambitions had served a purpose, he wanted to achieve something, he had an endgoal in his mind. GodGale might help a follower to achieve something but that follower won't feel any satisfaction - they will endlessly run after the next thing like a little hampster in their wheel until exhaustion & death.

And I don't think this is truly Gale - this is a vestige of Karsus. The Crown was influencing and corrupting Gale from the moment Gale has got close enough. The Orb would act like a homing beacon to the Crown, and it could amplify its effects.

These artifacts are both capable of being sentient, containing the remnants of their forger - we have precedents for this in the lore, and the Annals of Karsus can be interpreted as proof (see the bolded part.)

And when he ascends? I see an amalgamation of them. I think the Gale part of GodGale is still mostly in charge, but this can change.

There is an interesting thought - we know that Raphael can have an ominous monologue about Mystra if she has the Crown. In that case Mystra had the Sceptre & Crown, and possibly the orb too (we don't know if she simply destroys it or pulls it out of Gale - it might still be intact.) I don't think this will bode well for her for the long run, but we'll see...

[mightymizora]

Wulbren Bongle and the sociopolitical situation of the deep gnomes should have the same tragic pull and weight that people bring to the Anders Dragonage discussions, but you don’t fancy him and don’t care about short races so don’t think about it, I say, and somewhere the monkeys paw-

[jprgirl]

Best TAJ Episode: Poll 6

Use whatever metric you like! Personal preference, technical aspects, whatever! Feel free to make your case in the notes, and reblog to help spread the polls! :)

Possibly spoilery episode descriptions and screenshots below the cut to help you decide!

S3.E5 - Unleash the Kraken!

Learning that Johan is not only the Johnsons' father but the vessel of Njörðr, a sea god, Karen throws a fancy dress / family reunion party. Her godly power as 'social organiser' means none of them can reject the invitation. Olaf warns Mike about speaking to Johan, whose power is that his voice calms emotions - but only temporarily, and they return worse than before after he leaves. With Ty having moved out of Axl's flat and Ingrid unable to pay rent, Zeb suggests Amelia, a former mutual schoolfriend and crush of Zeb's. Axl reluctantly agrees. She flirts with Zeb but reminds Axl of a brief sexual fling - when she was uncaring of Zeb's feelings. At the party, old wounds are reopened: Ty's attempt to rebuke Johan is deflected by his power, Olaf punches Johan for breaking his one rule (never hit a woman), and Mike and Johan argue over Mike being left in charge of the family. The brothers play backyard cricket. The game dissolves in a brawl, until Olaf breaks it up and explains that it is due to Johan, who has gone and isn't coming back. Meanwhile, Johan tells Axl he has been drawn home because of Odin, and encourages him to face up to Amelia. They leave together. At the flat, Axl tells Zeb that Amelia is a psycho and only ever used Zeb as a way to reach him. Zeb refuses to believe it and tells Axl to leave, but Amelia proves Axl right by stabbing him in the back. His Odin powers growing, Axl hardly notices. Johan takes Axl to hospital before admitting he is leaving and suggesting a road trip to Norsewood, the Johnson family homestead. As they drive off, a mysterious man watches and writes "Odin – to Norsewood" in a notebook.

--

S3.E2 - This Thing Inside

Gaia asks Axl to bring the wedding forward, but then has sex with Anders again. Distraught, she confesses to Axl, who goes to find Anders - who is in hiding. Mike refuses to help Axl, but finds Anders on his own. Trying to make peace, Mike brings the family together at the partially renovated bar. In a rage, Axl throws Anders into a pile of rubble, mortally wounding him. Axl flees, while Michele saves Anders' life, revealing to those present that she has the Yggdrasil cutting. Mike finds Axl to tell him that Anders is fine, and convinces him to forgive Gaia. Gaia, knowing she can't avoid betraying him, tells Axl she will be leaving for London on her own - after they have spent one last night together.

Episode descriptions taken from Wikipedia

[dreadfutures]

Rules: If you’re tagged, MAKE A NEW POST to showcase one fanartist and/or fanfic for any fandom you recommend (with links), and tag someone to give their recs next! Don’t forget to reblog the rec you were tagged in, and include these rules! :)

Bonus: Choose works by people you aren’t super tight with, or choose older works that maybe haven’t gotten some love in a while. :)

Today I'm featuring some bite sized fanfics -- mostly from an event I volunteer with called the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle @dadrunkwriting:

Drunk Writing Circle is a Friday night event in which writers from all corners of the fandom and the world get together on Tumblr, prompt one another, and write Dragon Age fanfiction in a low stakes, inclusive, and all-around fun environment.

You can check out the updated FAQ for more info. (Drinking is optional!)

For now, here are some old favorites from my peers! They are all very small little ficlets hosted right here on tumblr!

In no particular order:

Fanfic

“look at me. you’re gonna be okay.” by @contreparry

Author's note: Here’s some Anders and Merrill blossoming friendship for @dadrunkwriting because I never cared for the canon antagonistic relationship so now I get to play around with it here!

Merrill brings Anders a patient in his clinic!

Fanfic

"you don't have to pretend with me" by @noire-pandora

I have always loved the teasing and camaraderie that Elluin and Solas have <3 Their banter is great and I love noire's writing.

Fanfic

"The comfortable chaos between" by @contreparry

Dorian and Solas rivalry and friendship is some of my favorite content to read. Here they are shooting barbs at each other as they sort through the library.

Fanfic

confessions of a teacher's pet by @shift-shaping

So this is actually a whole SERIES of DWC fills by shift-shaping with Professor!Solas and student!Surana and I ate ALL OF THEM UP as soon as I found them. student/prof is not usually on my menu but I loved every single little bit that shift-shaping wrote. This is one of my favorites, where Surana gives a presentation and Solas meets up with her afterward ;)

@shift-shaping also has several in-universe fics such as THE LIONESS AND THE WOLF (Surana/Solas):

In the foreground of history was Ozeni Adaar, proud leader of the shining Inquisition. Behind her, a former hero and a lost god found solace in each other.

Fanfic

"Anything else?" by @thevikingwoman

OKAY TECHNICALLY this one isn't for DWC but same idea sort of! Viking wrote this for an august writing challenge but all of viking's iwyn/solas modern au stuff just reels me in time after time.

On a solo vacation to fancy Arlathan resort, Iwyn is immediately attracted to the handsome bartender. She decides to be a little selfish.

And there are my recs for this week!

I'm tagging:

@heniareth | @kiastirling-fanfic | @inquisimer | @rosella-writes | @plisuu

@thebookworm0001 | @oopsallmabari | @galadae | @hanhula | @knightdawn

@shift-shaping | @stonebiscuit | @anneapocalypse | @idolsgf | @drakonovisny

[sky-fire-forever]

Happy Friday and a big welcome to DADW!! 💚💚

My prompt to you is: “How much of that did you hear?” For Fenris/Anders/Hawke! Hopefully it tickles your muse’s fancy!! 🎉

Thank you so much for the prompt and the warm welcome! For @dadrunkwriting

Content warning for some implied suicidality on Anders' part before the Chantry boom

My Hawke in this uses they/them pronouns

It isn't often that Anders and Hawke fight. They're usually on the same wavelength, always supporting each other and having each other’s back through thick and thin. When it comes to the big issues, like mage rights and the immorality of slavery, their beliefs are always entirely the same. When they do disagree — on matters like the ethics of blood magic and the type of people who use it — they’re usually able to have rational conversations and debates instead of devolving into screaming matches or insults. 

They at least know when to change a subject before it turns too sour. 

Today, though…  

Today they’re at each other's throats. 

“Why can’t you just trust me?” Anders demands, trying to shoo Hawke out of the clinic. 

“Because you’re lying to me!” Hawke snaps back. “You even admitted it! How am I supposed to trust someone who lies to my face?” 

That stings, but Anders doesn’t show it. He just grits his teeth and flexes his hands. “It’s for your own good,” he says even as he feels that hint of doubt that’s been plaguing him all day. Ever since Hawke agreed to distract the Grand Cleric even while knowing Anders had lied about wanting to separate from Justice. 

But Justice reassures him from somewhere in their collective consciousness that this is for the best, that Hawke would just try to stop them if they knew. The cause is bigger than Hawke, bigger than anyone. 

When the dust settles, Hawke may never forgive him, but it’ll be too late by then. This way, Hawke is spared the responsibility of having to stop him. 

“My own good?” Hawke stares at Anders like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has. “You don’t get to make that call!” 

“Why did you help, then?” Anders asks, frustration overriding his guilt. “If you don’t trust me and my plan, why did you help me with it?” 

Hawke stands and stares at him. “Because I do trust you,” they say with an unnatural solemness.  “I trust you and I love you, but I’m worried you’re going to get yourself killed, Anders.” There’s a pleading note in their tone. 

They reach for him, but Anders pulls away. He can’t meet their eye. 

“Please,” Hawke’s voice comes out softer now than it did before. “Please, whatever it is that you’re planning… talk to me. We can do this together like we always do. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

But that’s where Hawke is wrong. Anders has to do this and he can’t let anyone too close, not this late in the game. It’s too late for him now. Hawke will see that when the Chantry burns and it will be up to them to give the people their justice. Justice can only come with a heavy cost and Anders shall be the one to pay the price. 

“I think it’s time you go, Hawke,” Anders says as he turns away. “I’ll– I’ll see you at home.” 

As much as this betrayal hurts both of them, he can’t pull away from Hawke completely. He can’t tear himself away from their side forever, not until after the deed is done. There’s a selfish part of him that needs Hawke still, that clings to them even with hands soon to be slick with blood. That selfish part of him that’s human and not spirit longs to hold Hawke in his arms tonight instead of sleeping alone. 

There’s a moment of tense silence before Hawke sighs. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” they say before their footsteps retreat. 

Anders resists the urge to cry as he starts cleaning up his clinic. He tidies things away with shaking hands until footsteps approach from behind. 

“They are only angry with you because you’ve frightened them,” Fenris says and Anders internally swears. 

“How much of that did you hear?” Anders turns to face Fenris, not looking forward to another lecture from his lover’s lover. 

Fenris and him haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. They’ve bickered often over the years and that bickering has often evolved into arguments and shouting and desperately trying to make the other understand their point of view. But lately they haven’t been quite so hostile towards one another. 

In fact, they’ve become close friends. Bound together by their shared love of Hawke. They’d both do anything for Hawke and somewhere along the way, respect grew for one another too. 

Anders doesn’t want to watch that respect wither away. 

“I heard enough,” Fenris says cryptically. “I know you are hiding something from Hawke while begging them to trust you. That seems rather counterintuitive.” 

Anders looks away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Fenris steps forward until he’s in Anders’ space. “But I don’t believe you understand either, mage.” 

Anders blinks, startled by their closeness. He feels cornered, but not threatened. “What?” 

“Hawke cares for you. Many people care for you. If something were to happen to you…” He trails off, an expression Anders can’t read flickering over his face. “It would be unfortunate,” is what he settles on saying. 

Anders doesn’t know what to say. He knows somewhere along the way, he and Fenris had grown from rivals to friends to… whatever exists now between them, but he hadn’t expected Fenris to express such open concern. 

“Fenris…” 

“It is something to consider.” Fenris steps back and in an instant, he’s gone from the clinic. 

Anders is left alone with swirling feelings of guilt and doubt.