#also just a HINT of Anders

[rivilu]

Diagnosed with a terminal case of Rpg Brain

[felassan]

Snippets 🐺💜

John Epler quote: "There’s a difference between playersexual and pansexual. All companions are canonically pansexual." [source]

The opening cinematic Varric narrates at the start of the game plays before CC. "Following character creation, Varric's narration continues, revealing that he's put together a group to stop Solas, having recruited our character and a handful of others so far." [source]

Despite the action-heavy focus, positioning is absolutely key, and using careful timing to hit multiple foes at once can be the difference between victory and defeat [source]

"In-between fights, Varric and the other characters, including your fully-voiced protagonist, discuss events that are unfolding and different things that have led up to this moment. Epler notes for the preview that with how much time has passed since prior games, the team wanted to carefully throw in some reminders without it feeling like ham-fisted exposition." [source]

"The Dread Wolf's ambitions have already been laid bare, but I strongly suspect there's more going on, and Epler cryptically hints that not everything will be as it first seems" [source]

 Mages can move instead of standing in one place, allowing them to get up close and personal with enemies - a major game-changer for magic users [source]

Faction choice affects in-game moments between other factions and locations, as well as characters [source]

"When they were creating this area, they kept that in mind and looked at other locations to figure out how they could make it more grand. They developed the entire area based on a comment someone said in a past game, and if that isn’t dedication to lore, I don’t know what is" [source] (re: Minrathous)

In this demo the press saw femme Rook! [source]

The standard three square hotkeys look like an updated version of past ones [source]

"It sounded like there is also a system that allows hints during battle, like when something is a certain range, etc., that they said could be turned off" [source]

"In cutscenes, rain dripping down a building, blood on someone’s hands, or stepping into a puddle looks outstanding". "Things like clothes and hair are dynamic and move with you" [source]

"what at its core is a beautifully told story of revenge, regret, and the complexities of good and evil" [source]

During the interrogation scene in the bar with the shady bartender, Varric pins her to her own station with a crossbow bolt in order to interrogate her. Rook and Varric then go scrounge the city for clues [source]

Re: using body sliders in CC - "It looked incredibly easy to maneuver around and create a body that is either close to that player's real personage or their ideal fantasy self" [source]

Companions "will not only be influenced by your decisions in terms of how they treat you outside of combat, but closeness to party members will also change how they fight, with those closest to Rook more useful and lethal in battle" [source]

"Our presenter said that each specialization was pretty much as deep as a job" [source]

The game will not be available in India. [source]

The game has a Quality mode and a Performance mode on PS5 and Xbox Series consoles. it runs the latest version of Frostbite, targeting frame rates of 60fps in Peformance and 30 in Quality [source]

They will have more to share on both graphics modes for consoles in the coming months. [source]

David Gaider quote on the portrayal of Anders' orientation in DAII:

DA2 writer David Gaider told Kotaku in February this was meant to distinguish Anders’ relationship with male or female versions of Hawke, but recognizes this comes off like the mage’s identity was a switch to be flipped in hindsight. “Unfortunately, we just didn’t have enough time to get enough feedback and iterate on those situations,” he said. “We would hit a particular interaction, we would make a judgment call either as a group or the writer on their own, and that was it. There was no time for anything more than one gut-check, which is probably not the way to go.”

edit: forgot to add src for last one sorry. its here

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Actually I think that we should pay more attention to what the "hand over the apostates" banter means for Sebastians character, not just Fenris's.

Because. Yes. It shows Fenris is unwilling to hand over Hawke but more importantly Anders/Merrill who he has an antagonist relationship with.

But also...hey, Seb? You could just do that. Alone. You do not need Fenris and Aveline. Your favourite person in the city is the grand Cleric and if you even slightly hinted at it to her I bet they'd be in chains in the gallows before anyone could blink. Technically, you could argue that maybe there's some rule about the chantry needing/wanting more than one person to inform them of apostates but do we really think that the KIRKWALL templars follow that rule? No fucking way.

So...why does Sebastian go to Fenris and Aveline? We as the audience enjoy the fact that Fenris says no as highlighting something about his character, but Seb has been to Fenris's gambling nights where Anders is a key player. He's watched Fenris and Aveline drink with these people. I don't...think he expects a yes.

He's also...not friendly with Anders. But he and Merrill have genuinely theological debates that I reckon Seb actually sorta enjoys.

He's doing a very Sebastian thing here that digs into the core of his character. He is paroting chantry retoric and pretending it's The Most Important Thing when really his heart isn't in it. He's pretending to be the good little chantry boy, but what he really likes is running around fighting thugs and taking on the evils of the city with these mages. If anyone (from the chantry) asks he can say "I wanted to hand them in, I tried, but they wouldn't let me".

It's SUCH a Seb thing. He doesn't hand them in either! He just thinks he should because the chantry said so. He doesn't want to. He just wants to want to. Just like he wants to want to be a chantry brother with no power or wealth. Just like he wants to want to be merciful when he is really just full of venegnce.

Sebastian never manages to distangle his faith from the chantry. He doesn't even really work out what he likes and what he doesn't, like Cass, Viv or Leliana do. He just. Thinks he should like it all without any higher thought. Which means that he reacts like this when the chantry seem to be telling him one thing and he wants something else.

Sebastian and his cognitive dissonance about what he wants and what he wants to want and the hoops he will jump through to appear "good" while still basically getting what he wants is so fascinating to me. I wish it had been explored more and Seb had managed to work it out for himself and explore what parts of his faith were important to him and what parts were just something he felt cohersed into doing.

tl;dr, Sebastian didn't want to hand in Anders or Merrill either, which is why he asked instead of doing it. He just wanted to say he had tried to appease the invisible ghost of chantry propaganda sitting on his shoulder.

[barnabeetheraven]

Companion Reactions to the Inquisitor waking up from a nightmare

Cassandra: When she stumbles on the Inquisitor outside, she can tell from their face that they are having a rough night. Cassandra asks them if they’d like to do some training, maybe it would help take their mind off of things; she knows that works with herself sometimes, and the two of them spar until the early morning light begins peaking over the Skyhold mountains. If Romanced: When she feels them startle beside her, she is instantly on high alert for any threat. But when she notices the Inquisitor shaking and breathing heavily, she takes a deep breath and leans over to wrap her arms around them. When the Inquisitor remarks that they dont want to go back to sleep, Cassandra gets up and grabs one of her favorite books, and they spend the rest of the night in each others arms, with Cassandra reading softly to her love.

Varric: He can tell instantly that they are having a bad night; he’s seen his fair share of that look from Hawke, Fenris, and Anders before. He starts off with some of his favorite jokes until he can see just a hint of a smile on their face, before he tells the Inquisitor that they can always come and talk to him if they need to. Not that he’s any good at doing anything about it, but hell, sometimes you just need a shoulder. Afterwards, to break the emotional tension, he has them sit down and they spend the rest of the resting hours playing Wicked Grace.

Solas: He knew even before he saw the bags under their eyes, as he had felt the intense emotions from the Inquisitor’s nightmares in his own dreams. He offers to help them with the problem, not wanting to overstep his boundaries but also wanting them to know he can help chase the nightmares away. He also makes sure to send them with a decent sleeping drought, one that is designed for dreamless sleep. He prefers not to use it, as he enjoys his nighttime adventures, but he also knows that most people cannot control their dreams as he can. If Romanced: The Inquisitor begins to notice less and less nightmares, but in each dream they see the same thing; a large, dark wolf, always at the edges of their sight, as if watching or guarding them. The Inquisitor goes to sleep at night wrapped tight in the arms of the Dread Wolf, who chases away any nightmare that might harm his Vhenan.

Sera: As she was sneaking her way across the courtyard from the kitchens, arms full of cookies and pastries she had nicked when no one was looking, she almost knocked over the Inquisitor in her hurry. After making a joke about how they look like shite, and seeing how it hit home, Sera offers to share her bounty of stolen goods, and her and the Inquisitor spend the night on the rooftop, munching their goodies and talking about all manner of silly things to take the Inquisitor’s mind off of their night. If Romanced: There are all manner of ways for her to distract the Inquisitor, late in the night hours away from prying eyes. But when she can see in the Inky’s eyes how badly they are hurting, her favorite form of love comes out; SHARED PRANKS! Skyhold spent the next two weeks being terrorized by any and all manner of joke and prank, while Sera and the Inquisitor have never looked happier or more rested.

Vivienne: She cannot help but make a comment about how terrible the Inquisitor looks, and how important appearances can be, especially when dealing with the Chantry and them being the Herald of Andraste, after all! She makes them sit down for a spa day, and sends them back to their quarters with arms full of different sleeping aids, lotions for their face and eyes, and a book that Vivienne swears will put ANYONE who reads it to sleep, because of “how unbelievably droll” it is (It might or might not end up being Swords and Shields)

Blackwall: He has his own nights like that, where you wake up and just dont want to go back to sleep for fear of the nightmare returning. He asks them if they would want to help him with the horses, as it relaxes him taking care of them, and the two spend the night brushing the horses and harts, feeding the nugs and drakes, and talking about the universe and old war stories. If Romanced: After they get done taking care of the animals, Blackwall makes a nice, roaring fire, and he starts teaching the Inquisitor how to carve and whittle, making sure to touch and brush against them as often as possible, so they know that he is always there.

Iron Bull: He has a lot of nights like that on his own, and he’s seen the Charger’s experience more than a few. He offers to buy the Inquisitor a drink, and openly talks to them about how bad his are sometimes. He and whichever of the Chargers are awake end up sitting around in a circle, playing Wicked Grace and sharing stories, until everyone is smiling and looking more content as the sun comes up. If Romanced: When he feels them shaking next to him, Iron Bull rolls over, wraps his long arms around the Inquisitor, and pulls them to him. He rocks them just like that, with their head cradled against his chest, and begins to him an old song he remembers his Tamassran singing to him when he was young, and he feels the Inquisitor slowly fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling more at home and loved than either of them ever has.

Dorian: He scoffs jokingly, talking about how much work it is to keep their eyes looking young when they dont sleep, but he steers them to his favorite chair in the library and makes sure they get comfortable. He pulls out books left and right, criticizing or complimenting, joking and laughing until the Inquisitor falls asleep, softly dozing in the chair, and Dorian cant help but smile as he pulls up a chair of his own next to them, determined to defend the rest of his friend. If Romanced: When they wake with a start, he rubs their back, speaking comfortingly in his language, and when he gets the Inquisitor calmed down, goes and grabs a book off of the table. He cradles them against his shoulder and begins to read to them, softly stroking their hair until they fall peacefully asleep, nestled against Dorian and listening to the rise of fall of his chest.

Cole: Fear, building and building, until all that’s left is a cloud of hurt and fog of pain. He can feel the Inquisitor’s pain, so he begins softly patrolling their dreams. Sometimes he and Solas trade off, but Cole is always watching to see if he can help the Inquisitor with their stress. They dont always know when he is doing it, but Cole makes sure to give that little push every now and then to help ease the Inquisitor’s stress and anxiety, that way they can sleep easier at night.

Bonus:

Leliana: She has many of her own nightmares, and she remembers how bad the Warden’s would get, especially when they got closer to ending the Blight. She offers to get the Inquisitor whatever they need; coffee to stay awake, or tea to help with sleep. But they spend many nights taking care of the ravens, letting them take their fears and worries up into the sky as they brush and feed them. It isn’t much, but it’s a strange sort of relaxing.

Josephine: She tuts softly, mentioning how the Inquisitor has way too much on their plate, and she begins shuffling meetings and tasks, trying to only bring things to the Inquisitor’s attention if it is absolutely necessary. The hope is that if she takes more off the Inquisitor’s mind, maybe they wont have as much to stress about before they are going to bed. If Romanced: It’s hard for her, but she tries to intentionally put down her own work and cuddle with the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor finds it relaxing to run their fingers through Josephine’s hair, so every time a nightmare happens, she softly brushed her hair and lets the Inquisitor run their fingers through it, sighing softly as the vestiges of the nightmare vanish into the night.

Cullen: He has a lot of his own, especially as he is going through Lyrium withdrawals. Often, he and the Inquisitor spend many nights walking the grounds, unable to sleep, or sparring to help get their tension out. The two became good friends, where they can go to each other in the middle of the night and the other will wake instantly and get up to walk and talk with them. If Romanced: He startles when the Inquisitor flips up, but he wraps his strong arms around them and murmurs to them how they are safe, they are here with him, and nothing is going to hurt them. Over and over, he softly whispers his reassurances against their soft skin, until he can feel their shaking subside and he can get them to lay down on his chest, cradled safely in his arms.

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?, pt5

Read it on ao3 / Check out the story's masterlist

You remember the first time you meet Gus and Anders. Angst and humor, mentions of miscarriage and your family before the war, Gus has a thing for married women, implied Gus/Apple, Gus being a lovable and awkward older brother, Anders being a lovable asshole who may or may not have traded sexual favors with a dude for chocolate. Again, with Anders, the odds are about even either way. That dude does love to fuck with peoples heads. Lots of backstory.

Also, I've borrowed lyrics from this version of a song called Remember Me When the Candlelights Are Gleaming.

The candles are beautiful. It’s a silly thing to notice, given the circumstances, but somehow it seems appropriate in the moment. The candles are shorter, more like tea lights, and seated into elegant red glasses, a votive candle in a small Catholic church that’s right near the house you share with Gus. You pass the church nearly every day, coming or going for one errand or another, and for as long as you’ve lived here—for as long as the war has been on—it’s become more a refuge for the homeless and the lost than it is a house of worship.

But you know this church well, because even though you’re not particularly religious, candles are non-denominational, and it’s not your first time coming here, nor the first time that you’ve lit a candle in prayer.

In fact, that may be the only real constant you’ve had in your life for quite a while now. James always thought it was ridiculous, especially since everywhere in London had electricity. “You do know we’ve progressed past the Dark Ages, don’t you?”

He’d say it humorously, moving behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back against him. You never gave his comment the dignity of a proper retort, instead just waving the matchstick long enough for it to cool and to let the hint of smoke and burnt wood blend into the scents of food on the table. Your gaze would linger on the tall white candles, considered obsolete by so many people, including James, but there would just be something so magical about it.

“I think it’s romantic,” you’d say, watching the flame flicker and dance with the shift in the air until it grew steady and tall and bright. A light in the darkness. A light at a table shared by two, husband and wife, soon to be parents. You didn’t need to believe in God to recognize the silent prayer made in the lighting of it—to love, after all, is the greatest act of faith there is. To believe in something more than yourself, to trust in another person for that love to be returned. To hope for a long, beautiful life together.

James let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head, moving you against him to the sound of music playing from the phonograph so that the two of you were dancing. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said in a long-suffering sort of way. “We have quite the collection of candles to prove it. But you know, we might have to consider alternatives once little baby Y/N comes, just to be on the safe side. Candles aren’t the most baby friendly source of light we could use.”

You turned to look at James with an expression of exasperation. “Little baby Y/N?” You tried not to look as amused as you were, having only just found out about the pregnancy early that morning. You hadn’t been feeling well for a while and James had finally suggested that you see one of the physicians at the hospital where you were working. It was certainly a shock—you and James had only been married for a few months, a move that both of your families had considered rash and irresponsible given how young you were and how short a time you two had known each other. But it seemed right and you were always headstrong and sure of yourself. You didn’t hesitate to marry James.

You never second guessed the decision even once in the little bit of time that you got to spend together.

“If it’s a girl,” James said with a grin. It was always infectious to see him like that, impossible to resist. As handsome as James had been, a smile never quite suited his face. It took away from the regal sort of beauty he was born with and made him just a bit like an awkward teenage boy, but that was why you loved it. So much of the time, James was a picture of stoicism and self-restraint, the perfect example of a stiff upper lip. But with you, he was just James.

“And if it’s a boy?”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to name him after someone in the family,” James mused, looking down at you mischievously.  “Perhaps we’ll name him after your uncle Eddie.”

You actually groaned and paused in your movements, forcing James to stop using you as a prop while he moves to the music. “We can’t name the poor child Eddie,” you whined, shaking your head. “He’s only an innocent baby. That would just be cruel.” You looked up at him, trying to look serious. “What about naming him after your father?”

James’s beautiful face dropped into a pinched look. “Really, Y/N? I didn’t realize we hated the child.” He sighed again. “I guess we’ll just have to name him after you, too.”

“We are not naming the baby after me.”

“Why not?” James asked in a teasing voice, although his expression was serious. “Men name children after themselves all the time. We could name this one after you, and then we could name the next one…” James’s voice trailed off as you turned in his arms, your hands going to his shoulders as he moved you gently around the dining room to the music. “After you, too.”

“So, you’re just planning to name all the children after me? Is that it?”

James grinned, that awkward, face splitting grin that you loved. “It does simplify things, don’t you think? And it’ll make our families crazy when we go to visit, trying to keep up with all the little Y/Ns running around. Just imagine my mother,” James paused, letting the image have a moment to sink in. His mother never liked you, taking a pathological sort of loathing to any woman who dared to get close to her darling son. James was always the golden child. “Chasing after the little ones, all calling them by name. Y/N!”

You had to admit, anything that bothered James’s mother was something you tended to find amusing. “And just how many children do you imagine we’ll be having?”

“How many bedrooms do we have in this place again?” James asked seriously, glancing around the Victorian townhouse you two had settled in.

“Three,” you said slowly, eyes narrowing.

James gave the place a thoughtful look before turning back to you. “We’ll just have to move to somewhere bigger,” he said, one arm sweeping under your legs in a quick move that lifted you off your feet and had you grabbing onto him before you knew what was happening. “Oh, you have gained weight, haven’t you?”

“James!”

The sweetest songs belong to lovers in the gloaming The sweetest days are the days that used to be The saddest words I ever heard were words of parting When you said, "Sweetheart, remember me"

Really, there was only one person in your lives who was very supportive of the relationship. “Gus!” James lunged forward and dragged Gus into a bear of a hug, the kind you only see between two brothers, blood related or not. “Where the hell have you been?” It was, you had learned, rare enough for the two of them to even in the same city anymore, let alone at the same party.

“Where the hell have I been?” Gus asked with mock impatience, clapping a hand around James’s back. You stood awkwardly to the side and watched the two brothers embrace, half-expecting to receive the cold shoulder from Gus the same way you had from the rest of his family. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying you for weeks now. You’re the one who’s been impossible to reach.” Gus was addressing James, but you’d swear that his eyes were on you the entire time, as if watching and calculating your every move.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gus, darling,” their mother butt in, looking between the brotherly display with an expression of disapproval. It only grew darker when her gaze landed on you—for the short time when she deigned to acknowledge your existence, that is. “You’re the one who’s always out of contact. Off on one of your adventures.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him, the picture of upper-class maternal disappointment. “Honestly, with all the money we’ve spent on your education, couldn’t you have chosen a career that would keep you closer to home?”

Gus, James told her once, was famous in his family for choosing the career path that he believed would most piss his mother off. “He technically works for the foreign office, so she can’t actually complain at the line of work he’s in, but he’s so unimportant in the organization that he’s basically a glorified messenger boy between offices. Or for secretaries of secretaries of secretaries. Depends on the day, really.”

James was walking you home from a dinner out that night, one arm around you and holding you close to him as you leaned against him to ward off the chill. “Did he really choose the job just to make your mother angry?”

James glanced down at then and snorted, smirking as he thought of his older brother. “I wouldn’t have put it past him, but Gus has always been a bit of a black sheep in the family. Always getting into trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was really a smuggler or a spy working for the government and that’s simply the story he likes to tell people.” Then he laughed. “Mind you, he could be the PM and he would still let our mother think the worst of him.”

“Just to piss her off?”

“Gus does like to have his fun,” James responded, shaking his head. “You should have seen him at Eton. He practically ran his own black market for whatever the boys wanted there.”

Gus had simply given his mother a wide grin at the party, a far more charming look on him than on James, and said, “Sorry, Mother. Seems I’m too good at the job for a promotion.” Then he looked almost gleeful as he said, “But I did get to personally stamp a letter of approval for changing from one maid service to another for the office in Berkshire only yesterday, so it’s possible I’m moving up in the world. Of course, it still had to be reviewed by the undersecretary and two notaries to ensure I’d done so correctly.”

“Really, Gus.” His mother scowled. “When I think of all your wasted potential—”

“There you are, darling,” the March-Philips matriarch was thankfully interrupted, although you’d had to do a double take at the woman who draped herself off Gus’s arm at the time. She was stunning—tall and blond, with the perfect finger curls and a silky black dress that draped over all of her curves invitingly. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You weren’t trying to hide from me, were you?”

“Ah, of course not, my dear,” Gus said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to his side. He gave everyone a wide grin you could just tell he’d practiced to look as innocent as possible as he introduced her to everyone. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Diane.”

The look on his and James’s mother’s face was one of horror and loathing. It was nice to see that look levelled at someone else for once as the warning James had given you earlier that day repeated in your mind.

“Oh, one more thing,” James said, pausing to glance back at you in the mirror as he was fixing his bow tie. “If Gus does show up tonight, he’ll have a woman with him. Absolutely beautiful, as always. Don’t bother to remember her name, she won’t last the week, but do watch for Mother’s expression when she meets her. It always makes for a good time.”

“Absolutely beautiful?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you gave him a sharp look where you were leaning against the door frame.

James paused as he was putting the finishing touches on his tie, looking back at you in the mirror. “Yes, well…you know, relatively speaking.”

You hummed in response, still giving him a hard look and teasing him at the idea that you were offended at his noticing another woman. “So, Gus is a bit of a womanizer, then?”

James let out a bark of laughter. “More like the women use him for a good time and he’s more than happy to oblige.”

Their mother had disappeared shortly after meeting Diane, much to everyone’s delight, and eventually, James had taken you to the dance floor to enjoy the slow music of the live band. James was never the type to turn down an opportunity to dance with you, even if it wasn’t his forte.

Apparently, Gus wouldn’t be either, taking advantage of the minute James had to step away to pull you back onto the dance floor. “Hope you don’t mind,” Gus said, giving you that look of such practiced innocence that you were certain he was up to no good. “I just had to have you all to myself for a while.”

You looked up at him skeptically, eyebrows raised as you let him lead you around the dance floor. “I’m surprised you have the time or energy for another dance partner at all with how Diane has kept you busy all night.”

Gus chuckled quietly. “Yes, she does stay moving, doesn’t she? Don’t worry, though. I’ve a bit of a reputation for my stamina with the fairer sex.”

Your eyebrows rose even higher, which you didn’t think was possible. “Well, in that case, I expect your lady friend won’t take kindly to being abandoned.” You weren’t certain what to make of Gus March-Philips, but you had an idea that maybe you should be rid of him as soon as possible. You wondered where James had wandered off to—he’d said he only needed a quick refreshment.

“She’ll keep,” Gus replied with a confident air that suggested he was used to exactly this sort of thing. “Besides, what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t steal away my sister-in-law for a dance?”

The kind, you thought, who didn’t come to the wedding. “What kind of brother should I expect you to be?”

“Well,” Gus said thoughtfully, “I believe that you and James have a bit of a secret with regard to…” Gus trailed off, but his gaze traveled down your front—moving easily past the neckline of your dress toward your stomach.

You practically stumbled over your feet, although Gus was graceful enough on the dance floor to cover for you and keep you moving. “How could you possibly know?” You asked it in a panicked whisper. “We only just found out ourselves. We haven’t even told anyone yet.”

“I found out from Mother, actually,” Gus answered, his mouth pinched at the words. “She’s really very resourceful, you know. Could run her own spy network for the government. In any case, I do believe that she’s planning to confront you with it and announce it to everyone tonight for you.”

Your mouth fell open. The only reason you kept dancing at all was because Gus was leading you and he was, somehow, impossible to not give into. “She wouldn’t dare. Not when we haven’t even discussed it.” You huffed, unable to accept it. “She doesn’t even like me. She wouldn’t just announce it like that.”

“Mother likes to be the center of attention,” Gus told you. “She’ll do whatever puts her center stage. Even if she’s not happy about the pregnancy.” He spun you and pulled you closer to him, one arm on the small of your back. “But don’t worry,” he said conspiratorially. “I have a plan.”

It was too much—the dancing, James’s mother, the news of the pregnancy. You felt dizzy. “You what?” In that particular moment, you weren’t sure what to make of Gus and you weren’t sure if you trusted him at all.

“Mother will wait for the perfect moment to make the announcement,” Gus explained as he kept dancing, as if you hadn’t reacted unusually at all. “Probably in the next song or two. Now, just before she’s about to tell everyone about,” Gus paused, glancing down at your stomach again with a little smirk and nod of his head, “you know, I’m going to interrupt and ask Diane to marry me.”

“You—you…you what?”

“I’m going to make a big show of it. Get down on one knee. I even have a very nice ring for her in my pocket. It’s not a real diamond, of course. Can’t afford one on my salary,” and the way he said it made you think later that it was probably a lie, “but I think it’s very tasteful.”

“You—you—” You were struggling to form words. Hell, you were struggling to form a cohesive thought. “You’re going to propose to Diane just to distract everyone so your mother can’t announce the pregnancy?”

“Yes,” Gus said, as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do. “What, do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“You—well—what if she says yes?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Gus said, preparing to spin you. “She’s already married.”

Remember me when the candle lights are gleaming Remember me at the close of a long, long day It would be so sweet when all alone I'm dreaming Just to know you still remember me

The next time you saw Gus, you were in a hospital. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept. Sleep didn’t really matter anymore by that point. You were too numb. All you did was stare at the candle across the hospital room, the flame flickering and dancing in the darkness. You didn’t light this one. One of the nurses did as she was passing through. There wasn’t supposed to be any light, then. The city was blacked out at night to keep the enemy from finding places to drop bombs, although some part of you thought that didn’t matter, either. It only took one bomb to take your family away from you—the one you were building, and the one you already had.

The candle may be flickering, a light in the darkness, but you didn’t really have any faith anymore. You didn’t have any prayers.

You didn’t have anything anymore—not without James and the baby. Your mind just couldn’t comprehend how you could have so much one moment…and then have nothing the next.

Still, one nurse always seemed to keep vigil. One candle always seemed to be lit. One person still had hope.

“Hello, Y/N.” Gus’s voice was both painful and glorious to hear as he took a heavy seat next to your bed. You didn’t even glance away from the candle or question what he was doing there—visiting hours were long past over—as one hand absently stroked your stomach where your baby should’ve been growing. If you hadn’t miscarried from the physical and emotional trauma.

If your husband hadn’t died from a German bomb being dropped on your house, one of the very first to be dropped in London.

How many times had you sheltered in place since then, hidden under a desk on your own since he’d died? It felt like months. Years.

And now this?

No more baby?

“Hello, Gus,” you said absently after a few moments, remembering faintly that he was still there.

There was a long pause, a long silence in which neither of you knew quite what to say. Even Gus March-Philips struggles with how to comfort a newly widowed woman who’s just lost her baby sometimes, apparently. Then, “Listen, I have this idea.” Gus cleared his throat as he adjusted himself in his seat. “I have a house out in the countryside and, uh, well, it’s awfully big for just me. Especially since I’m not always there. I thought perhaps you might like to come stay with me for a while and…” Gus’s voice trailed off. A sigh. “Well, you’d have a lot of space to yourself, a lot of privacy. But there’s a hospital nearby, an infirmary for soldiers, you see. There’d be work there, too. And there’s a program to start training medics. I think you could be quite good at that, you know.”

A long pause. You didn’t respond. You just stared and stared and stared, one hand on your stomach, your ring on your finger. Numb. Empty. Lost. Not a flame left inside you. A candle burned out.

Nothing.

“So, Y/N. What do you say?”

You told me once that you were mine alone forever And I was yours till the end of eternity But all those vows are broken now, and we will never Be the same except in memory

“Gus is…what?” You did a double take as you stared—openly fucking stared—at the giant in front of you. You recognized him in passing as one of the…people…Gus associates with. You were never sure what to think of them. You knew they weren’t soldiers. They were more like ruffians and brigands, if you were to call them anything. The only one who didn’t look like that was Appleyard and you were never sure exactly what he was to Gus except that there wouldn’t be any jealous husbands coming about to sock him afterwards.

“He’s in jail, min dame,” Anders told you with a quirk of his lips, one of those irritating kinds of smirks. His blond hair was longer then, tousled and a little unkempt, as if he’d been away at sea or maybe in a fight. “Seems he, uh…” Anders had reached up and run a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Can’t help but get into trouble.”

“No kidding.” In the time you’d been staying with Gus, which hadn’t been long at all—a year and a handful of months—Gus had come home once looking like he’d been hit by a truck. Or this man’s fists. Another time, he’d been covered in hickeys and lipstick marks, only to be punched in the face the next day by someone who claimed that Gus had spent the night with his wife. Yet another time, he’d left for “work”, disappeared for nearly a month, and arrived home randomly one morning looking like he’d just spent all that time living out in the wilds somewhere.

Also, there was the time someone had shot him in the ass and you’d been the nurse treating him at the infirmary. He still refused to tell you who’d shot him or how it had happened.

“In any case, he’s asked me to check in on you, min dame. Make sure you have everything you need,” Anders continued then, as if it was situation normal. Which, you supposed, it basically was. But it wasn’t lost on you that this man, like the rest of the men in the area, wasn’t calling you by your name. Ever since you’d applied to be a medic and had started the training, the men around here had taken to finding ever more creative names to call you by…whenever Gus wasn’t around, of course.

There weren’t any female medics, after all. There were female nurses, of course—it’s a female profession, after all. But medics, out in the field? No one trusted a woman to have a level head and the right disposition for it. The soldiers who passed through here were especially difficult toward you.

“What did you call me?” You were sharper than you meant to be when you asked the question, perhaps, but you were already put off by the news that Gus had been sent to jail and apparently wouldn’t be coming home, and you were just plain goddamn tired of all the name calling and cat calling and the misogynistic bullshit.

“What?” Anders asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. It was a boyish act that seemed at odds with the behemoth in front of you. “Min dame?” His eyebrows rose. “You don’t like it? I can call you something else, perhaps. Min snuskebasse?”

“What? No.”

“Min lille heks?”

“Stop it.”

“Min pusling?”

“Will you just—”

“Min kærlighed!” Anders said, snapping his fingers as if he’d just stumbled onto the perfect name.

You’d scowled, glaring up at the giant man with all you were worth. “Listen, I don’t speak—” You paused, uncertain now that you were confronting him exactly which language he was speaking.

Anders, who looked amused, quickly supplied you with, “Danish.”

“I don’t speak Danish,” you snapped. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d call me by my actual fucking name, thank you.”

Anders snorted, running that hand through his hand again, shrugging. “It’s much nicer than what the other men call you, I promise.”

You turned around and slammed the door closed in his face. Anders, however, wasn’t phased by it a bit.

“I’ll just come back tomorrow then, shall I, min kærlighed?” His face broke out in a grin when he heard you growl from behind the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I can find the way back on my own. A big foreigner like me, I’ll be fine! I’ve only been mugged three times already—they must know I don’t have any money by now! Nothing bad can possibly happen to me!”

Remember me when the candle lights are gleaming Remember me at the close of a long, long day It would be so sweet when all alone I'm dreaming Just to know you still remember me

You put the candle on the dinner table every night. You couldn’t help yourself. It was a ritual.

So was pulling out the box of matches.

So was striking one.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to light the candle. It just wasn’t right, not anymore. You weren’t sharing the dinner table with anyone—not even Gus, now that he was in jail. Usually, Gus wouldn’t think twice about seeing the candles out. When you first came to live with him, you’d put them out at dinnertime and he’d give them a passing glance, recognize that they weren’t lit, and say nothing about it. When dinner was over, you’d leave them out. You couldn’t bring yourself to touch them. By morning, they’d be put back in the cupboard where they came from. Not a word from Gus, just a quiet understanding.

On the longer stretches when Gus would disappear for days or even weeks, the room would fill with unlit candles. Gus would find his way home eventually. The candles would be put away overnight.

You wondered what Gus had done to be put in jail and just how long he’d be there. If he was ever going to come back home. You weren’t used to silence like this, not really. You’d lived with family before marrying James and after that, there was always someone to bother you at all hours of the day, whether it was his family or yours. You’re not that fond of silence like this.

But then, it didn’t really matter what you were fond of anymore, did it? Everything you loved had already been taken away.

There was a knock at the door. Well, more like a pounding, really, which could only mean one thing. “I’m back, min yndling!” The neanderthal of a man, Anders Lassen, was back. Again. He’d been coming around every day for a week now, pounding on the door to check on you. Refusing to go away until he saw that you were alive. It was like he took your refusal to acknowledge him as a personal challenge. “I bring chocolate this time! I’ll share it with you if you promise not to ask where I got it from!” Another pound on the door, his heavy hand thud thud thudding. You felt yourself actually wince at the impact on wood, rubbing at your forehead absently as you glanced toward the front door. “It’s going to snow tonight, ja! Better to let me in now so I can help with your firewood!” A pause. You imagined him shrugging his big shoulder, his too long blond hair underneath a cap to keep his head warm today. “Be a shame if I had to wait out here all night, you know. I wouldn’t like to be a frozen statue at your front door. But I bet you couldn’t find a handsomer one!”

Sighing, you set the matchbox down on the table and crossed to the front door as Anders continued pounding away. “Okay, I’ll tell you where I got the chocolate from! I bribed the man with sexual favors!” You froze when you heard this, audibly groaning, before rushing to the door before he could continue. “I gave him a really good blow—”

“What is wrong with you???” You snapped at him, pulling the door openly and looking up and down the street.

Anders just grinned at you, his hair stuffed under a cap just like you’d imagined. Somehow, winter looked like it agreed with Anders Lassen—like he was built for it. “Ah, min yndling. I thought you’d never open up. How lovely you look today, glaring at me like that. Would you like some chocolate?”

“You’re a menace,” you told him then. “Don’t you have anything better to do besides coming around here to harass me every day?” It seemed like most days, when you were away from nursing or medic duties, you easily slipped back into that quiet state of numbness. As if you’d never really left it at all, had just been temporarily shocked out of it by something happening around you.

Anders Lassen, however, seemed to bring out the worst in you. In fact, he seemed like he actually enjoyed it.

Anders just gazed down at you and shrugged. “Eh,” he said easily. “Not really.” He grinned at the way your face fell into a grimace, holding up a bag he’d brought with him. “Do you want some chocolate?” When you didn’t respond as quickly as he wanted, he added, “I’ll let you eat the whole batch while I chop you some firewood. I won’t even judge you for hogging it all and not sharing any with me, even after I’ve done all this hard labor for you.”

You leaned against the door frame, debating the easiest way to get rid of him. By then, of course, you’d learned that it was best to just give in. He’d chop some firewood, you thought, and then he’d leave. It never occurred to you that Anders was giving you exactly what you wanted—a break from the absolute silence of you alone in this place. “Fine,” you told him in exasperation. “Bring in the chocolate and the firewood.”

A shuffling of feet. Anders didn’t say much as he came into the house, but he made enough noise for five men as he set everything down. Like any true friend of Gus’s, he’d brought you rations and other goods that should have been difficult to find just now. You looked down at a stack of chocolate bars, an actual fucking stack, and back up at Anders sharply. “Some chocolate?”

“Ja,” Anders said simply. “Some chocolate.”

You looked between him and the stack of bars, shaking your head. “How did you…”

“I’ll tell you,” Anders replied, appearing perfectly happy to give you all the details. “His name was Charles and he had a really big coc—”

“That’s okay,” you cut in. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to know.”

You were still recovering from the beginning of Anders’s story when he noticed the candles on the table. “Ah, candles! Are you getting ready in case you lose power from the snow?” He looked from the table to you, wiggling his big eyebrows. “It’s supposed to be bad, you know. I hope the firewood takes care of it, but perhaps I should stay with you tonight. We could huddle together for body warmth.”

“No,” you told him sharply, crossing your arms over your chest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Has anyone ever told you, min kærlighed, that you look quite lovely when you’re angry.” Anders was all humor, it seemed. It didn’t matter how you tried to avoid him or tell him to go away, he just kept coming back, refusing to give in.

“Don’t you have firewood to chop?”

Anders took the dismissal in stride, his grin only growing. “Ja, ja. Firewood. Just let me light the candles for you first.”

You’d never felt so panicked. “What?” You didn’t want them lit. You weren’t ready to light them. “No, don’t—”

Anders was already lighting them, pulling a matchstick from the box and striking it before you were able to stop him. You were practically about to lunge for him when he lit the first candle you’d laid out. Then the second. A third. A near symphony of candlelight on the table in front of you, bright and magical and alive, the flames tall and steady. He lit all the candles, and it struck you just how many you’d left out. The center of the table was ablaze with light and you were mesmerized by it.

“There,” Anders said, blowing out the match and taking a step back to admire the candles. “Very lovely. Ja. I like it.” He looked over you, unphased by how you gazed at the candles, stunned. “Now I’ll go chop some firewood and then we’ll eat chocolate.”

You stayed where you stood near the table, but you watched Anders walk back outside in the glow of the candlelight, some part of you acknowledging that more than just the flames was flickering back into life.

A brighter face may take my place when we're apart, dear A sweeter smile and a love more bold and free But in the end, fairweather friends may break your heart, dear If they do, sweetheart, remember me

“So…” It was a quiet moment on the Maid Honor and Gus was visiting you down in the sick bay. You tried to look busy, sorting through your supplies and cleaning, feeling the awkwardness of this moment as Gus eyed you warily from where he was seated. “You and Anders have gotten quite close, it seems.”

You tried not to react. “Do you think so?”

Gus was not convinced. You’d rather come to like Gus in the time you’d spent with him, even if he was a bit of a pirate and seemed to have no real concern for the legality of things. “Hmmm…” You weren’t sure what to think of this conversation, however. If Gus would take things…well, badly. It really hadn’t been that long since James died. You and Gus really didn’t know each other all that well. “Now, what I need to know is whether Anders and I need to have a little talk.”

You paused, a roll of gauze in your hand as you glanced over at him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Talk?”

Gus propped his elbow on the side of the table, scratching at his beard for a moment as he considered you before resting his chin in his hand. “A talk,” he confirmed, eyebrows raised. “About whether he’s crossed certain…err…boundaries…and the right way to…” Gus seemed adorably out of his element as he tipped his head in consideration, watching you. “Treat a lady.”

You stared at Gus for a long moment, slowly deciphering what he’d said. “You…want to have a talk with Anders…and make sure that I’m fully consenting to what’s happening and that he’s treating me right?”

Gus hummed in response, his gaze never leaving you, watching for any sign that he did, in fact, need to have a talk with Anders. “And to discuss the consequences of…not…treating you right,” he added.

You stared at Gus for a long moment—Gus, who looked so completely serious about having a talk with Anders. Gus…having a talk with Anders. You couldn’t help yourself. You started to laugh.

Gus was going to get the shit kicked out of him.

“Bloody hell, woman,” Gus said, watching you laugh harder and harder, his own mouth quirking up into a grin. “It’s not that funny.”

“It is,” you insisted. “It really is.” You laughed harder than you could remember laughing for a long time. It felt…good.

“Now, this is serious,” Gus said when you’d gotten most of it out. “Do I need to give Anders the talk? Or is there anything I need to know about you two?”

“That depends,” you replied, going back to fixing the roll of gauze in your supplies. “Should we talk about you and Appleyard?”

You looked over in time to see Gus freeze for a few fractions of a second before he caught himself and went back to acting normally. “Me and Appleyard?”

“Hmm.” You nodded at him smoothly as you looked at him. Gus held your gaze for a long, long moment.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Appleyard,” Gus told you, all seriousness.

“Uh huh,” you replied.

It was quiet as the two of you gazed at each other, sizing the other up. Waiting.

“Do you know, Y/N,” Gus said then, grinning widely. “I think it’s possible that I’ve been underestimating you all this time.”

Remember me when the candle lights are gleaming Remember me at the close of a long, long day It would be so sweet when all alone I'm dreaming Just to know you still remember me Just to know you still remember me

It's the night before you leave for the mission, the first one where you’ll actually be out in the field with Anders and the others, and you’re spending it in a little church. You wonder where the others are right now. Where Freddy and Hayesy go when there isn’t a mission or training to do. Where Appleyard and Gus have been sneaking off to lately—they’re never at the house when you are, although knowing those two, they could be sneaking off for a tryst just as easily as planning the downfall of a foreign country.

Where Anders goes in the last moments before he’s meant to leave for a mission. You haven’t asked him.

You sit in the church pew and gaze ahead at the rows of candles. The church doors are open late these days, or as late the curfews will allow, and the overhead lights don’t work as well as they used to. Between the depression and the war, the church has seen better days. But you wouldn’t know it by the people who come and go here, or the rows of candles at the back of the church.

Silent prayers in the darkness. You wonder what the other people here are praying for.

You walk up the aisle nervously, your palms sweating. Your heart pounding in your chest, the sound loud in your ears. You haven’t lit a candle for a long time now. It’s a silly thing to be nervous about, but this moment feels important. You want to do it right.

You pause at the table littered with candles. Your fingers stumble over the matchstick. You stare at the flame for a long moment before moving it to the candle wick, watching the rush of heat and light as it catches and grows, the wick black in the midst of a bright blame. A light in the darkness. A silent prayer. A hope.

Please let this mission go right.

Please let everyone come back safely.

Please don’t let me fuck this up.

Your thoughts move slowly between Gus and Anders, from Appleyard to Hayes to Freddy. You aren’t sure who you’re asking, if it’s the universe or God or just yourself. You just know that this moment matters, that this thing you’re about to do matters. Love is, after all, the greatest act of faith there is. Faith in something bigger than yourself. Faith that you can make a difference.

Don’t let this be the last time Anders and I are together.

You’re not sure if it’s love, but maybe just even having the desire for it is enough.

Let everything turn out okay.

Somewhere in the distance, someone is playing music. The familiar strains of fingers strumming across guitar strings and voices crooning a song.

Just to know you still remember me

[lyrakanefanatic]

Okay, so I reread the final gambit because @1989linasversion made a post saying how there were gonna be clues about the grandest game in that book, and I think one of the biggest clues so far is David Golding

Every single person who died in the Hawthorne fire has been covered and talked about in the final gambit except for David Golding. Toby’s family is the Hawthornes, (well technically the Laughlin’s but wtv) Kaylie Rooneys family is Avery’s, Collin anders wright is Graysons family, but so far David Golding was just mentioned, but never really looked into. And as you can see, whenever jlb doesn’t really talk about a person that’s mentioned in her books, they become a big part of her future books (like for example, Jamison’s dad wasn’t mentioned in the entire trilogy but in the brothers Hawthorne he was a big part of it)

Imagine David Golding is one of the contestants family, or maybe even phone girls, and maybe that’s why they’re playing in the game. Jlb did mention in the prologue thingy for the grandest game that some contestants were there for “their own reasons”, and that it might not just be about the money. I looked through the books, and these were some parts where david is mentioned.

So all we really know about him so far is that david came from money and is similar to Toby in a way, so there’s really no way to tell if he was a good or bad person (considering the fact that tobys….. toby. and being similar to him really isnt a flex 😬) I know the clue said that there were hints in tig, but just to check I looked through the Hawthorne legacy too and found something else

So davids family was constantly donating to Camden house, and david, Collin, and Toby all went there. Again, the way they talk about david being similar to Toby and the fact that he was one of the people partying with Collin and Toby makes me think that if jlb does shine some light on him in the grandest game, then he might turn out be not a very good person. Again, there really isn’t a lot of information on david so we don’t really know whether or not this is true.

Also can anybody pls lmk anything they found out about the final gambit that might be tied to the grandest game? (If you found any 🫶)

[apoombeam]

Author hey!!!!!!

The withdrawal symptoms started getting to me so I had to imagine what’s coming after, which bring me to question: would keirin commit suicide?

If this topic is too jarring pls just delete my msg!!(apologies in advance if that’s the case)

Considering Keir’s personality, would he get just give up on the situation? Like Claude just gets so horrible to the point where he can’t even bother fighting anymore. These were pretty much my first thoughts when it was hinted Keir could get pregnant, because if he does get knocked up accidentally (bcs he doesn’t know that he could get pregnant) and Claude forces him to carry the kid to term, would he just, like, end himself out of heartbreak or desperation?

Or! Would he turn out like Anders? Pretty much given up fighting but still too scared to die (would be in character cos he’s a coward) and if that does happen, what would the other characters think? If this is a plot point or just will never happen, pls ignore the message!!! :(

Hope your well author and I’m waiting patiently for the next chapter!!! :)

I can't really say. I don't want to minimize what Keir is going through, but I don't think things have gotten quite that bad? At least at this point. I also don't want to give anything away!

I've been really busy at work recently, and my work is also writing (I'm a translator). So I've been burned out and not really able to get into the right headspace recently. I keep hoping to sink back into it! And everyone's comments and questions like this are encouraging! I'm flattered by the idea that anyone cares about my stories haha.

Anyways, thank you for reading, and hopefully my brain will turn back on soon. I can't promise anything, but I am pretty determined to finish this story, so it is definitely not abandoned!

[wylldebee]

As much as I enjoyed Inquisition I was also heavily disappointed by it. I was looking forward to fighting in the Mage-Templar War ever since Dragon Age 2's ending. Instead the war mostly took place in comics and books, and in game it's over in...what? An hour? Two hours? More depending on how long it took you to choose a side after all those side quests? Are you honestly telling me this war that's been brewing since Dragon Age: Awakening (you get hints of it if you meet Wynne and do her side quest) and finally started at the end of Dragon Age 2 with Ander blowing up the Chantry ends with just one big quest for either side? Instead of taking on the Chantry—instead of focusing on the enemy of the now, of the present, of what's always been there—we're focusing on the Fade and the Ancient Elves of the past? I'll probably enjoy Dreadwolf when it eventually comes out. I'm just going to be continuingly disappointed that something that had been hyped and eager to play in was just...over in one big mission.

[vohalika]

Because this is a safe space and twitter is bad and making me think about things. Be nice.

I'm sympathetic to the notion that characters with actual sexual preferences that aren't player-sexual have more depth to them or are more compelling and all, but, you know, couple things about that.

Arguing that, for example, Anders and Isabella were player-sexual rather than practicing bisexuals regardless of player is already a stretch. And with Fenris and Merrill, I don't think they were in a place previously to really explore their options. Well, Fenris's canon sexuality unaffected by Hawke still swings Isabella's way and Merrill in Origins was at least strongly hinted to be a lost childhood romance for a male Dalish warden, so. Not exclusively player-sexual either.

Harding has already been open to flirting with any Inquisitor, so she's another practicing bisexual or pansexual right there, always been there.

And bi/pan ARE full-fledged identities and orientations. Just because they conveniently also mean the characters are open to date Every player character doesn't mean that's not also part of a personality with depth and all.

And maybe most importantly, I am also very much in favor of discouraging people's worst tendencies. Since for many characters, their canon sexuality doesn't actually feature into their story all that much, there is little harm or foul in making the straight men bi... But when a major part of a character's backstory is escaping a homophobic family trying to force conversion therapy on him so he'd go and quietly make heirs with a woman, turning that character bi is, you know, a little problematic, don't you think? And I'm very much in favor of taking THAT sort of option away from the player, thank you very much.

(Other unfortunate darkest tendencies the gameplay has encouraged include both queer companions in origins being pretty easy to kill off, and outing Krem to you five minutes before you get the option to let him fucking die. And considering how many people were upset with Bull turning in them in tresspasser, THAT WAS APPARENTLY PRETTY COMMON for whatever reason. So maybe less of that, games, please and thank you.)

[connieluvsr]

ONE OF THE GIRLS | part 1

pairing: (electric) guitarist!jungkook x singer!reader(f)

genre: band au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

summary: when your main guitarist gets sick and can’t perform at your show, you get help from someone unexpected.

warnings: swearing and some making out, hot jk:)), drinking, mention of drugs, smoking, slight smut.

a/n: my first story!! hope you’ll enjoy it, i thought of it while listening to one of the girls by the weeknd, jennie, lily rose depp and i was like hmm i think i have an idea)) anyways i have some more works but i dont really have ideas for what to happen next in them😭 enjoy!! Also part 2 is gonna be CRAZY and much better, please wait a bit!!

_________________________________________

“i’m so so so so sorry.” ander sighs and falls back on the couch. “i feel like im disappointing you.”

you shrug, placing your hands into your scalp and gently pulling your hair. “it’s not your fault, i just…” you pause for a bit. “don’t know what i’ll do, it’s over.”

ander gets up and rubs your shoulder. “hey don’t say that, it’s not! you still have time to find someone who can replace me.”

you touch his hand and smile, you knew he really is sorry, but you can’t just try acting fine when you’re not. you dreamed of this since forever, having people come somewhere just to hear you sing. you were the duo everyone knew, he was your guitarist and you were the singer, that’s it, no one else.

you thought you’d find someone to replace him, and you did, actually, but they’re not good enough.

“i’ll just go, it’s getting late, take care hm?” i say while taking my jacket from the hanger.

“bri.. come on, don’t be like that.” he goes after you and takes your arm.

“like what?” you ask with a curious face, thinking what could he possibly say.

he hesitates for a moment before speaking, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “Like you’re giving up! Like… Like you don’t even care anymore. There has to be someone who can help us.. i mean help you.”

you sigh, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. “who? we’ve already contacted many musicians and they all sucked. none of them clicked. our sound was perfect, and that’s all”

Ander’s gaze softens, his voice gentle as he speaks “what about… zac’s friend?” he suddenly jumps. “he plays electric guitar right? maybe he could step in.”

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “yeah i know him. even if he does, he’s Zac’s friend, we barely know him. Also he’s a total ass, he would never agree.” you’re both silent for a moment. “wait! didn’t he fucked up our first show? remember! he wanted to play in our place and his rich mommy made us move dates.” you scoff loudly. “that fucker, no, never, i won’t sing with him.”

ander listens carefully to your frustrations, his expression thoughtful. he understands your reluctance, having experienced the turmoil caused by Zac's friend firsthand. after a moment of silence, Ander speaks, his voice steady, "I get it, Bri. I really do. But people can change. Maybe he's realized his mistakes, and this could be a chance for redemption. Plus, desperate times call for desperate measures. It's just one show, and if he doesn't come through, we'll find another way. But what if he surprises us?"

you're hesitant, the memories of past encounters with Zac's friend clouding your judgment. Ander continues, his tone encouraging, "We won't know unless we try, right? Let's meet him, talk to him, see if he's willing to help. If he shows even a hint of sincerity, we can consider it. And if not, well, at least we'll know we explored all options."

after another hour of talking with ander, reluctantly, you agree to meet with Zac's friend, still skeptical but open to the possibility of him proving you wrong. Deep down, you hope he has indeed changed, but you wont ever forgive him.

“how do we do that? call zac.” i say.

“its late, go get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow, ok?” he hugs you tightly before leading you to the door. you say your goodbyes and leave.

“god its 12 am already.” you sigh and call an uber, smartass couldn’t even do it. you take off your mask, thinking of someone. you dial the person and they respond right back

“bri! hi!”

“hi! you still at work?” i ask hoping for a negative answer

“just leaving, what’s up?”

“can you pick me up from ander’s house?”

“what were you- ok we’ll talk in the car, i’ll be there soon, k?”

“thank you”

you waited for your friend to come, and she did finally, after you froze yourself outside. but it’s better than paying that expensive fucking uber.

“hi. thank you again.”

“no prob, now tell me why are you leaving ander’s house at 12 am?”

“you act like we never do music together” you giggle and look at her

“yeah but it’s late tho” she raises an eyebrow she has a point.

“we talked about someone to replace him since he’s got some flu i don’t know and he’s not feeling well.” you take a look on the window

your friend's eyes widen in understanding, her expression softening. "Oh, that sucks. Is he going to be okay?"

you nod, sighing with relief that she didn't press further. "Yeah, he'll be fine. but we're kind of in a tight spot for the upcoming show. we tried finding replacements, but it's been a disaster. Ander suggested Zac's friend, the one who messed up our first show ages ago. I'm not thrilled about it, but we're open for it.”

she raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Zac's friend? Seriously? After what he did last time? You sure about this?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I'm not sure about anything at this point, but we're desperate. If he's changed, even a little, and he can play bass guitar, we might have a chance."

Your friend nods slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Well, I hope for your sake that he's gotten his act together. And if he hasn't, you'll figure something out. You always do."

Her words offer a sliver of comfort in the midst of your uncertainty. As you drive home together, you can't help but feel a mix of anxiety and determination.

“um… should i talk with zac for you?”

“what do you mean? you’re friends? since when?” you ask with a lot of curiosity

“well… we kinda.. hooked up…” she smiles as if she remembers every single detail

“WHAT??” your jaw drops in disbelief, shocked by the revelation. "you hooked up with Zac? When did this happen?"

she chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze. "It was a while ago, he came to my club and tipped a lot, then asked for a blowjob, i said only if you give me head too and he actually did it” she laughs a bit seeing your shocked expression. “but if it helps you, I can talk to him and see if he can convince his friend to help you out."

you're torn between feeling surprised, betrayed, and oddly hopeful. "i don't know how I feel about this, but if you think he'd listen to you, maybe it's worth a shot. Just... be careful, okay? I don't want any more drama."

she nods, her expression serious. "I promise I'll handle it delicately. I'll talk to Zac and gauge his friend's interest in helping you. We'll see how it goes."

as she drives you home, you can't shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside you. you hope for the best and that he’ll agree and maybe be actually down to earth. you can’t lie you’re not nervous.

————————————————————————

next day you wake up totally in a sweat, the dream of being booed off the stage didn’t help your concerns at all, you felt like you need to talk to him as soon as possible, and hope for the best

taking your time to actually think about how to approach him to agree, but you thought he won’t ever do this for a random stranger, so you thought about avery and zac, she knew she’s make zac convince him.

“i talked to zac”

“and!?” you jump off your bed

“he said y’all should meet beforehand and he’ll see if he wants to, he wants to hear you sing too, but he doesn’t know what’s in for him, so i told zac to tell him… popularity? he’ll be on stage and be known so yeah.”

“AMAZING. GREAT.” you hug her tightly “love you, you’re the best. now where and when should we meet?”

“he said you should go at his studio later tonight. seems cool”

“sounds good to me, now what should i wear?” you look for some clothes

“you seriously think about what to wear? you don’t even know if he’s gonna agree.”

“true, true, but i have to make a good impression , i cant go in adidas sweats.

“yeah, yeah, now should i tell you i have a date with zac?”

“no way!! i’m glad, really!.”

“maybe one day even a double date with… what’s his name? jungkook?” she giggles at your expression.

“with that fucker? no. one show and its over, i get ander to sing with me and that’s all.” you shift in your place and think about ander, you gotta tell him everything.

feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, you spend the day preparing mentally and emotionally for your meeting with Zac's friend. The thought of finally finding a solution to your musical dilemma fills you with hope, but the fear of rejection lingers in the back of your mind.

“we’re here” says avery and gives you a comforting smile as you head inside.

as you step into the professional studio, a wave of inspiration washes over you. the air is thick with creativity, and the walls are adorned with soundproof panels, the room is dimly lit, the glow from the mixing console casting a warm ambiance over the space. cables snake along the floor, connecting various instruments to the mixing desk, creating a web of musical potential.

the room is a dark gray and a little black, you look around mesmerized, like you never went into a studio, you did, but not like one of those. i wonder how much he spent on all of this, or his family. you correct yourself.

in the corner of the studio, you notice a boy sitting on a stool, his fingers expertly gliding over the strings of a bass guitar. the bass guitar itself is a work of art, its body carved from rich mahogany, the natural wood grain accentuated by a glossy finish.

your thoughts are interrupted by a loud zac “hello girls, finally in jk’s crib!” he smiles widely then takes avery by her hand then places a soft kiss on her jawline, she totally blushes and i can see with the corner of my eyes how unamused jungkook is.

“hi brianna, nice to meet you.” he gives you his hand and smiles.

“you too! you shake his hand but your attention goes to the dark haired boy as he makes a sound to make us all look at him.

“you must be brianna.” he gets up and his hands fall in his huge hoodie pockets.

“yes, i am, and i’ve heard you’re jungkook?”

“you’re chinese?” avery suddenly blurtes.

“avery what the hell?” i ask embarrassed and look at his face, to see his reaction, nothing. “i’m so-“

“korean, if you really wanna know.”

avery realized her mistake and mouthed a sorry, to end the awkwardness i try to say something but he’s faster.

“so, you wanted to replace your guitarist hm?” he asks as he sits down and offers us to do the same, i sit down and take my strands of hair out of my face and fix my skirt.

Jungkook's gaze meets yours, his eyes a shade of deep brown that seems to hold a world of experiences. his tone is casual, yet there's an underlying intensity as he speaks, "yeah, I heard about your situation. mind if I give it a try?"

you nod, appreciating his straightforwardness. "absolutely.”

he picks up the bass guitar, his fingers caressing the strings with a practiced ease. As he starts playing, the studio fills with the low, resonant tones of the instrument. his skills are undeniable, and you can't help but be impressed by the way he effortlessly navigates the fretboard, creating a melody that resonates with the very soul of the song.

Avery and Zac watch in awe, clearly captivated by his performance. you find yourself drawn into the music, feeling the vibrations of the bass reverberate through the room. despite the initial awkwardness, there's a growing sense of excitement. maybe, just maybe, you've found the missing piece to your musical puzzle.

When Jungkook finishes playing, he looks at you, his expression earnest. before you can say how amazing that was, you get "now your turn.”

“i.. ok, what should i sing?” you awkwardly get up.

“you’re asking me?” he says with a confused look, sitting down where your place was.

“n-no just, ok i’ll start.” you nervously laugh and avery gives you a thumbs up making you smile.

“I’ve been posing with red skies,” you begin singing ‘Feet don’t fail me now’ by Joy Crookes, your voice shaky at first but gaining confidence as you delve deeper into the lyrics. with each word, you pour your emotions into the song, your voice resonating with the passion that fuels your music.

as you sing, Jungkook’s intense gaze never leaves you. his eyes reflect the understanding of the emotions you’re trying to convey, and it feels like he’s not just hearing the lyrics but also feeling the soul of the song. Avery and Zac, too, are entranced by your performance, nodding in appreciation as your voice weaves a story through the air.

the studio seems to fade away, leaving only the melody and the raw emotions you’re sharing. Your voice rises and falls, carrying the weight of the lyrics and the hope of a new beginning. In that moment, you’re not just singing; you’re baring your soul, connecting with the very essence of the music.

you finish and get applauses from everyone but jungkook.

“that was amazing” zac says, but don’t want his opinion, you want his friend’s. you wait, and you wait. and he opens his mouth suddenly. “cool.”

you give a confused look “cool?”

“yeah, we might work, rehearsals when i tell you i’m free and at your place.”

you’re taken aback by Jungkook's nonchalant response, but his words sink in. "sure, rehearsals at my place. we’ll work out the schedule," you reply, trying to hide your surprise.

Avery nudges you subtly, her eyes filled with excitement. after the initial tension and uncertainty, it seems like Jungkook is on board, even if his demeanor is more reserved than enthusiastic. you decide not to dwell on his reaction, choosing to focus on the opportunity ahead.

"thank you, Jungkook. we appreciate you giving us a chance," you say, mustering a smile.

he simply nods, his expression unreadable. despite the lack of exuberance, you can sense his commitment to the collaboration. with the pieces falling into place, you're eager to start rehearsals and see how this unexpected partnership will unfold.

Zac and jungkook watch you leave and zac places a hand on his shoulder

“what was that bro? you don’t know how to flirt, at least you were cool with the “at your place”

“you dumb fuck, i don’t want to flirt, i just need more recognition, that’s why i’m doing that, and i can’t here since dad comes with his artists you forgot?”

Zac raises an eyebrow, his surprise evident. "recognition ? buy you're incredibly talented, Jungkook. you’re practically a musical genius. ehh do you need more recognition? you forget your dad can put you all over the city’s billboards?”

Jungkook's gaze flickers, a mix of frustration and determination in his eyes. "it’s not about money, zac . it’s about proving myself, making my own mark without relying on my family's name. i want people to see me for who I am, not just as someone's son. and helping brianna, it's a step towards that."

Zac's expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. "i get it, man. we all have our struggles. just remember, we believe in you, not because of your last name, but because of your music."

Jungkook nods, appreciating zac’s support. "thanks, Zac. just hope I can live up to your expectations."

"You will," Zac says, clapping Jungkook on the back.

————————————————————————

your phone buzzes with an unknown number, and curiosity piques your interest as you answer the call. "hello? who’s this?" you inquire, your voice laced with suspicion.

"jungkook," comes the curt response from the other end of the line. shocked and unprepared, you hold back the exasperation that bubbles up within you. you didn't miss his arrogant tone, but deep down, you knew you needed him.

"yeah, Jungkook?" you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, emphasizing the unnecessary delay in his introduction.

"meeting tonight. gotta talk about some stuff and all," he states, his tone bored, as if discussing your collaboration is a mundane chore for him.

"aren’t you gonna ask if I'm free?" you retort, refusing to let his dismissive attitude go unchallenged.

"don’t try to act busy," he says, his words carrying a mocking tone. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it infuriates you. He's clearly relishing this power play.

"i’m pretty busy, actually, but tonight I'm free. Come around 7 pm," you inform him, trying to assert a semblance of control over the situation.

"9? Okay," he counters, his response catching you off guard.

"what—" you begin to protest, but he ends the call abruptly, leaving you fuming with frustration. The audacity of the man infuriates you.

puzzled and slightly unnerved, you find yourself questioning how Jungkook got hold of your number. the mystery gnaws at your thoughts, prompting you to dial Avery's number, seeking clarification.

"hey Ave, you gave Jungkook my phone number?" you ask, your voice tinged with confusion and concern.

"hey, babe, no, why?" Avery responds, her confusion mirroring your own.

"he called me about meeting tonight. Are you sure? Maybe you gave it to Zac, and Zac gave it to him?" you suggest, trying to understand.

"damrn, no, i haven't," Avery replies, her voice filled with genuine surprise. There's a brief pause before she continues, her tone taking on a mischievous edge, "That's quite weird. Oh, also..." She bursts into giggles, and you can't help but sigh in exasperation.

"tonight at yours, huh?" she teases, her laughter spilling through the phone.

"gosh, stop, I'm hanging up," you grumble, rolling your eyes at her antics.

"no, wait! But something important!" she insists, her tone turning serious for a moment.

"what?" you ask, unable to resist the curiosity despite your annoyance.

"wear protection!" she says, her laughter bubbling up again, and you can't help but groan at her audacity.

"bye," you retort, deciding it's best to end the call before she can come up with any more embarrassing suggestions. Hanging up, you're left with a mix of confusion, irritation, and a reluctant smile at Avery's playful antics. As you prepare for the evening's meeting, you can't shake the feeling that dealing with Jungkook will be far more complicated than you initially anticipated.

——-

a/n : part 1!! i cant believe i finally posted this. i wanted to make it as one part but it was sooo long.

i hope you enjoyed it! also if you might find grammar errors its because english isnt my first language!

(any recs and tips are gladly taken since im new to tumblr!)

[quillweaves]

Characters I want to see in Veilguard

you did not ask for my opinions but you will get them regardless

Merrill. Our resident eluvian nerd! I want to see what she thinks of the crossroads and the truth of fen'harel so bad.

Anders. How does the veil coming down affect abominations? Also, how did the events of inquisition affect circles/mage rights in Thedas in the long term, and what is his opinion of his actions at the Kirkwall Chantry with that hindsight?

Cassandra. She is an ex-inquisition member with major political sway! What has she been up to in the past 9-10 years? Also I love her.

Maevaris Tilani. Everything we know of her makes her sound very cool, and we may need Tevinter contacts in the game!

Dorian Pavus. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a cameo as a Tevinter contact. Also I miss him.

Fenris. We know Solas has been freeing enslaved elves in Tevinter to distract his pursuers which I imagine would be of interest to him. I could totally imagine Fenris being involved with the Shadow Dragons.

The Iron Bull. With part of the game taking place in Tevinter, and the known Qunari presence in the crossroads, Qun politics and influence is likely to play a part in the game. As a previously loyal spy, current Tal-Vashoth (which he must be to be alive), I would love to have him as an advisor.

Shaper Valta. The lore of the titans is fascinating to me and there are hints of it being connected to the elves/evanuris as well.

Fiona. We know that red lyrium is blighted lyrium, and we are confirmed visiting Weisshaupt in Veilguard. Fiona is the only known person to ever have been cured of the warden taint, as well as a highly skilled mage. Also she's a bad bitch. Also can someone PLEASE TELL ALISTAIR THAT SHE IS HIS MOTHER.

Isabela. I could imagine her being brought up during our journey to Rivain or our association with the Lords of Fortune in the game (she has never been associated with the Lords of Fortune, it just seems like her type of fun).

Sandal. WHAT IS HIS DEAL.

[black-arcana]

Former NIGHTWISH Vocalist ANETTE OLZON Releases Music Video For New Solo Single 'Hear My Song'

Anette Olzon, the former powerhouse vocalist of NIGHTWISH and one half of the dynamic duo behind THE DARK ELEMENT alongside former SONATA ARCTICA guitarist Jani Liimatainen, has released the official music video for her new solo single, "Hear My Song". It is taken from her third solo album, "Rapture", which is being released today (Friday, May 10) via Frontiers Music Srl.

Set to captivate audiences worldwide, "Rapture" promises to deliver an electrifying blend of heavy melodies and soaring vocals that solidify Olzon's esteemed status as one of the premier female voices in the metal genre.

Following in the footsteps of her critically acclaimed second solo album, "Strong", Anette once again teams up with acclaimed Swedish guitarist and producer Magnus Karlsson to craft a musical experience that pushes boundaries and excites the senses. Together, they have curated a collection of songs that showcase Anette's unparalleled vocal range, complemented by Karlsson's masterful riffs and the addition of growls by Johan Husgafvel, adding a dynamic layer to the album's sound.

"Rapture" seamlessly navigates through various musical genres, from symphonic to melodic power metal, with hints of melo-death, while maintaining an irresistibly catchy and melodious essence. Olzon's performance on this album is her most versatile yet, proving her ability to evolve and innovate while staying true to her signature style.

Renowned mixer Jacob Hansen, known for his work with PRETTY MAIDS, VOLBEAT and THE DARK ELEMENT, returns to the fold to ensure that "Rapture" achieves the perfect balance between heaviness and hookiness, resulting in an album that is both impactful and memorable.

"Rapture" is set to unleash its sonic fury upon the world, cementing Olzon's status as a force to be reckoned with in the metal music scene. Prepare to be swept away by the sheer power and beauty of Anette Olzon's "Rapture".

"Rapture" track listing:

01. Heed The Call 02. Rapture 03. Day Of Wrath 04. Requiem 05. Arise 06. Take A Stand 07. Cast Evil Out 08. Greedy World 09. Hear My Song 10. Head Up High 11. We Search For Peace

Recording linup:

Anette Olzon - Vocals Magnus Karlsson - Guitar, Bass, Keyboards Anders Köllerfors - Drums Johan Husgafvel - Growls

The Swedish-born singer originally joined NIGHTWISH in 2007 and recorded two studio LPs with the band before being dismissed in 2012 in the middle of the group's North American tour. She was replaced by former AFTER FOREVER frontwoman Floor Jansen.

Olzon reflected on her time with NIGHTWISH in a 2021 interview with Finland's Chaoszine. Asked how she looks back on the entire five-year experience, she said: "Well, it's mixed emotions. It was a hell of a ride. You know how it was with the media in Finland. And for me, I didn't understand what was happening because I didn't know how big the band was, since I don't live in Finland. So it was really fun the first years with everything and also crazy. I wasn't home a lot. They did their heaviest touring when I joined. All of a sudden, they wanted to do so many long weeks [on the road]. I remember just that I had a five-year-old son [and] I came home after five weeks. I was home one week. I didn't almost have time to unpack my bags before I went off again for four weeks. So I don't remember everything, to be honest. There are so many things that I don't remember. And also, of course, the last years where it wasn't such a nice atmosphere between us. And I had my third child, and things happened.

"So I remember it both with really happy, happy feelings, but also with very, very negative and sad feelings," she explained. "But, of course, it was an amazing experience, and it was my dream that came true to be a full-time singer in an amazing big band. And they are a super-good band. So I bless the albums that we did and will always cherish that time, of course."

Not long after Olzon was fired from NIGHTWISH 11 years ago, she claimed that an argument arose between her and NIGHTWISH when she asked for an Australian tour to be postponed during her pregnancy. Keyboardist Tuomas Holopainen suggested that Jansen should front the band on a temporary basis, but Olzon said no.

Anette explained in a 2014 interview: "I would have been too pregnant to go to Australia, so I wanted to push the dates back, but Tuomas didn't want that. Discussions about a substitute came up, and at first, I was, like, 'Yeah, well, okay.' But when they mentioned Floor, it was an automatic 'no' from me. I didn't think it was a good idea, because I knew what would happen — I knew the fans would love Floor, because she's a metal singer and I'm a pop singer, and I wanted to keep my job."

A year after NIGHTWISH fired Olzon, the band released a statement denying that she was dismissed because of pregnancy or illness. "We discovered her personality didn't fit this work community, and was even detrimental to it," the group said. NIGHTWISH went on to say that Anette was initially receptive to the idea of hiring a temporary replacement if she couldn't "manage everything," but that she later "took back her decision, and the difficulties really started. Fear of losing money and position seemed obvious." The band also insisted that "Anette and her company" were "paid a fifth of everything that was done during her time" with NIGHTWISH.

Since the end of her stint with NIGHTWISH, Olzon also formed THE DARK ELEMENT with Liimatainen. The group's self-titled debut album was released in 2017; a follow-up, "Songs The Night Sings", came out in 2019.

Olzon and noted progressive metal vocalist Russell Allen (SYMPHONY X, ADRENALINE MOB) released a collaborative album titled "Worlds Apart" in March 2020 via Frontiers Music Srl. The project was issued under the moniker ALLEN/OLZON. A follow-up album, "Army Of Dreamers", arrived in 2022.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Fat Heroines in M/F Romance: Quick Recs

For no particular reason, a few books I love where the heroine is described as fat/plus-sized/whatever, may or may not experience weight-related insecurities, but never loses weight and is always seen as super hot, not the girl who just escaped his notice until she glowed up, by the hero.

(I will add that I've definitely read many more books with this kind of rep, but it isn't always as explicit, and I wanted it to be super clear. And I'll probably add on to this later.)

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean. Callie is very clearly fat, and she does long for Ralston from afar... but largely because she was a literal teenager when she first noticed him, and he doing grown man shit with grown women. Once she's in his notice, he is obsessed, and is super worshipful of her body. Never has a man been more upset that a woman bound her breasts; he is PERSONALLY offended. He must heal them! With his mouth!

Brazen and the Beast by Sarah MacLean. Noteworthy for featuring a plus size model on the cover and stepback. Hattie is a total babe, Whit is absolutely about it from the moment he wakes tied up in her carriage, and she ties him up some more after that! I also really love the degree to which Hattie is embraced as a beautiful, vivacious woman who throws this man for a loop.

The Brown Sisters Trilogy by Talia Hibbert. All the Brown sisters are plus size, it's on the cover, and they fall into their own unique love stories. Personally, Act Your Age, Eve Brown is my favorite, but they're all very good.

*Get a Life, Chloe Brown features a heroine who has suffered from chronic pain all her life (and as a TW, the hero is coming off a relationship with an abusive ex-girlfriend) trying to get the most out of life after sitting on the sidelines for years

*Take A Hint, Dani Brown features a queer, witchy heroine and a hero who suffers from anxiety (plus the rare interracial romance with no white people) embarking on a fake relationship after being caught in a compromising situation

*Act Your Age, Eve Brown features two leads who are both on the spectrum as our heroine attempts to "grow up" and ends up ruffling allll the hero's feathers (also, a purply sparkly dildo is utilized super effectively)

All Scot and Bothered by Kerrigan Byrne. Unfortunately not reflected super well on the cover (though it is a beautiful cover otherwise) this book has a heroine who is fat, loves food, and is loved by a giant Scottish motherfucker who watches her eat chocolate and is like "this is the greatest trial God has ever bestowed upon me".

A Merry Little Meet Cute by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone. Heroine is a fat porn star with what is essentially an OnlyFans; she wants to break into vanilla cinema, and gets cast in a Hallmark-style Christmas movie opposite a formerly famous boy bander... who of course, is a BIIIIIG fan of her work. Also, bisexuality galore!

The Truth About Cads and Dukes by Elisa Braden. Our heroine considers herself plain, as does much of society; the hero is NEVER about that life. Before they're even engaged, she goes on a spiel about how he wouldn't understand her inner thoughts unless he's been inside her, and he does have a sadly aroused coughing fit.

Possession by Adriana Anders. Heroine and hero are actors in a PR marriage of convenience, with the specific stipulation that they won't have sex; and then he gets caught fucking a woman on camera, who looks just! Like! Her! Heroine's size is very clear; she's also Latina, and the hero is pansexual. She follows him to ~kink camp~ and they discover that they're actually quite! Compatible! One of the hottest books I've ever read, so body-affirming.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

in no way i mean to offend you but. my friend. your version of sebastian is just. i mean down to the last bit it's just leliana.

Hello! I'm actually glad you sent this because I've been thinking about their differences and similarities and would love the chance to talk about it.

So, heres the thing. I feel like its easy to model a Better Sebastian off Leliana. They are both people with awful pasts, who enjoy violence and try to rationalize it, and who find comfort in their faith. Also, I think it's easy to type cast a character as "religious" rather than exploring the personal links that person has to their faith and how it may differ from others.

But ultimately, my better version of Seb that lives in my head? He's still pretty chantry conservative compared to Leliana. And the violence thing is s l I g h t l y different. Leliana is a lot of things but I wouldn't say her main motivation is often revenge, whereas Sebs defo is.

1. Theology

Leliana, you'll recall has some WILD opinions about the maker. Her opinions remind me a little of Julian of Norwich, a fourteenth century anchoress who hints at universalisation, believes god spoke to her directly, and had intense views about the love of God (Leliana and Julian is a seperate post but god I'd love to chat about it someday). Leliana believes:

Members of the chantry should have sexual and romantic relationships including the Divine. These relationships are not only morally correct, they are gifts from the Maker and divine in themselves

God did not abandon creation but instead is in creation, everywhere

God can actively talk to individuals as God did to Leliana, usually in visions. He uses this to shape the world

Meanwhile, Sebastian is waaaaay more conservative. Like. St Anselm sorta vibes of the poor man running into the ditch and getting punished by God for it vibes. I mean. Think of all the changes Leliana makes if she becomes divine, even to scripture itself. Do you think Sebastian would uphold any of that?

And that's not necessarily a bad thing! I want Sebastian to think about what it means to be holy, but I don't think he should abandon basic chantry principles because he IS a conservative character. He's a member of the royal family! He has a lot to gain by sticking to tradition and will have been raised to do so.

So yeah, Seb should realise Anders and many others do more for the poor than the chantry. But also he should maintain basic principles of faith such as the maker has abandoned his children, people need to do penance before the maker to atone for their sins.

I mean, the REASON Seb is the way he is is that he thinks that a lot of what he wants/desires is sinful and that he should be punished for that. He's got the Catholic guilt that Leliana couldn't even dream of having.

Also I want Seb to be celebate for the right reasons (he thinks it's what the maker wants him to do rather than something he has to do to stay in the chantry) but that doesn't mean I don't want him to think that the maker wants him to do that. THE MAKER WANTS HIM TO DO THAT. It's how he remains close to the maker.

Basically, Sebs Theology aligns more with Cassandra than it EVER could with Leliana

Why did they turn to religion?

Leliana may have been a bad person before, but she hid in Lothering Chantry because she was already devout and religious. She had suffered tremendously, been tortured and her faith had steadied her through that.

Sebastian Vael? He's a prince and he was basically forced into this. He was an unruly third son so they bonked him in the chantry to try and make him well behaved.

And that's SUCH a difference between the two? Sebastian will ALWAYS feel that struggle between who he was and who is he now, and the fact that he was cohersed into the chantry even if he approves of it now. Leliana wasn't cohersed into anything and found a way to reconcile both her love of violence and her job with the chantry. Speaking of...

What is their violence used for?

Also. Another thing is. Seb doesn't use violence FOR the chantry. The closest he comes is invading Kirkwall for harbouring Anders, but again, that's more personal revenge than violence for the chantry itself to further the chantrys aims. Sebastian instead draws this VERY neat line between violence which is "more fun than the chantry" and the chantry itself which is a life of prayer and devotion.

For Leliana, by Inquisition, she is using violence FOR the chantry. Leliana believes that she is skilled at violence and enjoys using it, but it's not about revenge narratives for her, it's about furthering the cause that she deems right (which is why imo hardened divine Leliana is the most dangerous, because like. Hmm. That is a woman who could VERY easily start a crusade and feel it was justified). While her killing Marjolenne if you go down that route is revenge, it's also...practical? Lelianas violence is strategic, it's thought out, it's done for specific aims and reasons. Marjolenne could VERY easily become a threat again and stop Leliana entering Orlesian society once more. Her death frees Leliana in a very practical way. And most of Lelianas other violence we see in inquisition, the books or DA2 just. Isn't for revenge at all.

What motivates their violence?

For Leliana I think it comes down to the fact that she's good at it, that it's fun, and that it gets her where she needs to be. It's both entertainment and practical. She uses it FOR other people and herself, to further the aims of her in-group be it the chantry or her lover or the inquisition. Violence is mediated before it's enacted and it's enacted to get the correct outcome.

Violence for Leliana is also not really...personal? She can kill and hurt with such coldness and detachment as she shows throughout inquisition. She can even do so with old friends.

For Sebastian, violence is intrinsically linked to revenge and so is ALWAYS personal. Revenge is at the core of Sebastian's character. Every act reminds us of that. Leliana is, in her way, merciful particularly softened and I think that's her natural inclination. Seb? He's revenge driven. He can't see Mercy without a strong religious hand to make him. Kill those who hurt you and the ones you care for is basically his motto. He doesn't know how to exist outside of this paradigm of revenge and shows he hasn't learnt by the end based on his decision to invade Kirkwall because Hawke didn't kill Anders. And he doesn't ever really think about the outcome of these things? Like. Annexing Kirkwall?? Seriously?? That's gonna have huge political implications but Sebastian can't care because Elthina is dead and that's PERSONAL.

So yeah. Big picture Leliana vs. personal small picture Seb in terms of how they operate with violence.

How well do they know themselves?

I think Leliana is VERY honest with herself and very self reflective. Even in inquisition when she "nearly lost herself" she still thinks hard about how to get what she wants. She KNOWS she's an instrument of violence and she knows she's good at it and is going to use it self conciously to further the inquisitions aims. Otherwise she wouldn't be as good as she is at it! She clocks exactly why she might have made a mistake and if her emotions got involved. ("I was being sentimental" about pulling back her scouts)

Sebastian is deceptive. He's deceptive from himself. He wants to be the good guy and he pretends he is, but he's actually a shadow of revenge sneaking about. When he wants something he tries to justify it over and over even if it isn't logical to the rest of his belief system because hes the good chantry boy and he needs people to believe that because HE needs to believe it because otherwise he's a bad person and he wants to be good SO bad.

Leliana is okay being religiously a bit of a weird one and so doesn't need to conform to some ideal standard. Hell she LIKES being seen as a bit odd as the gauntlet for the sacred ashes reveals. She likes being unique. Seb doesn't want to be unique he wants to be the perfect religious choir boy....he just also wants all this other stuff that's counter to that so he has to be self deceptive about it.

To conclude

In my head, Seb and Leliana are distinctly different characters. They may have some surface level similarity and they are arguably two of the most overtly religious companions in the games, but Seb is personal, vengeance driven and conservative and Leliana sees the bigger picture, is self conscious and very liberal in her theological thinking.

[theluckywizard]

Happy dadwc! Let's have "You cannot stain a black coat. -Nicholas Nickelby" from the Dickens prompts, for Kirkwall-era Garrett Hawke?

Thank youuuu! I also incorporated these twin prompts from @about2dance and @bluewren for @dadrunkwriting

This inspired a scene in my MatchmakingMoms!AU where Leandra Hawke and Alsatia Trevelyan are trying to fix up Garrett and Rose, their incorrigible adult children who have no interest in getting fixed up. Context: Dougal is coming to extort more money and effectively interrupted Hawke's introduction to Rose. Hawke is off to deal with him with his friends. WC: 2,211 Characters: Garrett Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, Merrill, Varric, Dougal, Aveline, Anders. Rose Trevelyan, Alsatia Trevelyan and Leandra Hawke are implied. Ship: Garrett Hawke x Aveline Vallen (unrequited)

Striding along the snow dusted streets of Hightown in the clink of his armor and mail, Hawke’s mind bounces between the impertinence of Dougal and the ill-fated introduction he’d just endured. His friends all seem to be waiting for him to say something, unusually short on quips considering everything going on. He glances at them, testing his theory and in spite of their varying moods, their brows all lift inquiringly.

“I don’t know. I mean you saw her. She looked as pinched as every other blazing noblewoman I’ve met, but there was something about her expression—” Hawke says starting right in, swinging along the tidy streets of Hightown toward the lower market where Fenris says Varric is running interference. “She— smirked.”

“She smirked.” Fenris’ flat tone is somehow flatter. Hawke thinks back on her momentarily. Truthfully he couldn’t see well beyond the severity of her coif and gown, but she had pleasant enough face he supposes. He hadn’t been paying much attention until she smirked. And then his friends foisted themselves upon them all. 

“Yeah, her smirk. I mean I can’t blame her. I am me. But it was— nice. And… weirdly familiar.”

“Pinched she may be, but that girl’s been plucked,” remarks Isabela with a wry twist of her lips. 

“What do you mean she’s been plucked?” asks Merrill. “Because she’s a Rose?”

“Yes, because she’s a Rose,” answers Hawke, grinning stupidly.

“She’s had sex,” hisses Isabela to Merrill.

“Ohhh. How do you know she’s— well— been plucked?” asks Merrill.

“I just know,” smiles the Rivaini.

“Anyway. Surely she and her enterprising mother will take a hint after another day or two and flee back to Ostwick,” says Hawke, rather eager to be rid of the intrusion this first holiday alone. They’re certainly in no need of the audience as he and his mother feel out how to be fabulously wealthy and normal all at once.

“You are humoring your mother,” observes Fenris like it’s the strangest thing. “Couldn’t you tell her no?

“Not this time. The mother’s an old friend. And I’m a sucker for seeing my mother rekindling old friendships after everything. The aren’t many who will associate with her after her infamous flight to Ferelden. Even all these years later. And no amount of gilding will cover up that stain.”

“You’re a good son, Hawke,” says Merrill. “I thought she looked lovely.”

“Yes, my mother is a delight,” teases Hawke. 

Merrill smacks him with the back of her hand. “That Rose girl.”

“She was fine I suppose. Nothing that could tempt me outright I don’t think. But fine.”

Dougal and his horde of unwashed brutes loiter restlessly in the Guild Quarter, heavily armed and bearing torches. Varric wisely stands to one side with enough space between him and the gang that he can’t be jumped without pulling Bianca first. Dougal himself is cursed with an unearned sense of confidence, eyes glittering over the warped smile on his face 

“You’re only missing pitchforks,” Hawke says with an affable smile.

“We’re missing a little more than that.”

“Says you. We had an agreement,” says Hawke, reaching casually for the weapon of one of Dougal’s henchmen. The young dwarf, not knowing what to do with such a bold, unconcerned incursion, allows it. Hawke inspects it and hands it back to him, ruffling his hand in the hair of the dwarf. 

“I’ve seen the spoils of your expedition,” says Dougal. “The lavish estate. The fine furnishings. I think I deserve a larger share of your fortune. Fair is fair, right?”

“I’ll be the last one to say we should have listened to Bartrand,” interjects Varric. “But we should have listened to Bartrand.”

“Isn’t this a conversation we should have had— say— eight months ago?” asks Hawke.

“What can I say. Things have gone poorly for me and I’m a bitter man,” says Dougal, inspecting his stubby fingers.

“So you admit to being a shit investor and then come slithering my way thinking you can make me cough up more?” asks Hawke, his amusement supreme.

“Now you’re getting it,” says Dougal.

“And if I say no?” says Hawke, crossing his arms. He’s already counted the opposition— twelve excluding the man himself who would doubtlessly hide behind his muscle. Daggers and hammers and crossbows. Leather armor at least. He feels a swell of pity for the goons that have fallen in with this slimeball. Most of them are just trying to make it in this town the same way he was. And Maker, he’d really rather not kill anyone tonight of all nights.

“Let’s just say that I’d hate to see something happen to that lovely mother of yours who spends all together too much time alone. A hundred sovereigns and you can make this go away.”

“Extortion’s never really been a favorite of mine, you know,” says Hawke cheerfully, drawing his sword from its sheath on his back. He tosses it lightly in a little show, admiring how the brazier light flashes on each side of the fuller. “But shameless creature that I am, I suppose I’m tough to blackmail. You can’t stain a black coat.”

“A man does what he must,” says Dougal, easy amongst his squad of stabby goobers. 

“You’ve already interrupted Hawke’s special day,” says Isabela with her usual wry grin. “Now you’re threatening to kill his mother?”

“Special day?” asks Dougal.

Hawke rolls his eyes lightly. “It’s not that special.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” says the rat.

“If you must know—” Hawke begins.

“Hawke’s mother is trying to set him up with a wife,” finishes Merrill, utterly delighted.

“Oh?” Dougal’s brow arches high and then he laughs, a pitying one that echoes off the cornices and columns until it devolves into wheezes. He clutches his side, recovering himself while his men chuckle along dutifully. “Well it’s a good thing I’m claiming my due now. She’ll drain your coffers dry and run off with the stable boy.”

Hawke snorts at the man's confident advice. “Today is not your day,” he says, smiling as he slips his shield onto his left arm. “Why don’t you let all these nice people head along home to their lovely spouses and fight me head to head like the Maker intended?”

“You and I both know I pay good coin for this back up.”

“Good, is it?” Hawke asks. He turns to the men. “I’ll pay you double this month’s wages to fuck right off right now! Toss in a wheel of cheese for your trouble!”

“You can’t buy their loyalty. They’re all family!” laughs Dougal. “Though maybe you don’t quite understand. I heard you notoriously lost your family during your little expedition.”

“Bold blazing words from an actual turkey. Come on then. Let’s get this over with,” says Hawke stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders in preparation before flipping down his visor. He sees the faint the shimmer of Merrill’s barrier hugging him as he invites the onslaught, pounding on his shield to draw them upon him. 

By now his crew is well aware of his distaste for outright murder. He’d seen Varric and Isabela’s precision— pinning culprits to walls with bolts and removing armor with surgical slashes of blades. And Fenris had mercifully learned to execute a relatively delicate little pop on the head when needed. Merrill summons her fantastically freaky tendrils and wraps them up as needed. Hawke is appreciative of their restraint considering.

“I don’t suppose anyone had the forethought to fetch Aveline?” asks Hawke, sending assailants tumbling back with aggravated nudges of his elbow and bashes of his shield.

“Blondie went for her,” says Varric, ducking under a triplet.

“I wish he’d hurry the blazes up,” says Hawke, glancing down at the blood pooling in his mail under his gauntlet. “Fuck.” He shakes his arm out like it might make it feel better and then gets right back to it.

It's Dougal’s numbers versus the eclectic capabilities of Hawke’s crew. The clash carries on long enough that everyone involved starts getting loose and careless in their movements, the early snap of battle settling into a languor as everyone starts hankering after stamina pots and lyrium draughts. Hawke flips his visor up to swipe sweat from his brow.

“So how’d you know this girl anyhow?” asks Dougal, sashaying lightly away from one of Merrill’s grabby vines.

“Daughter of a family friend,” grunts Hawke, shoving one back with the flat of his foot against the poor sod’s stomach. Convenient to be so tall in a fight against dwarves.

“Does she have a nice set of badonkers, at least?” inquires Dougal.

“Acceptable,” remarks Isabela, stepping on her unconscious quarry as she binds his wrists behind him. “Hard to tell underneath those bloody stays that are getting so popular these days.”

“She was perfectly prim,” insists Merrill, cracking the head of a cheeky bastard with her staff.

“You’re all getting ahead of yourselves,” says Hawke, hovering somewhere between exasperation and unbridled laughter. “I have about as much chance of settling down with her as I have sprinting up Viscount’s court in my birthday suit.”

“Hawke,” says Fenris in the simplest challenge.

“Well all right, through the Chantry then.”

“Hawke,” says Isabela, eyebrow raised as she disarms another assailant, kicking their blade far across the stones. 

“You don’t really believe that I’d—“

“Hawke,” says Varric, tilting his head in amazement.

“You do something one time!” he grumbles, knocking back the last goon between him and Dougal hard enough that the blighter doesn’t even get up.

“You’re not going to kill me,” says Dougal, backed against a wall. “You’re soft. Effective but soft.”

“You don’t know that,” says Hawke. “Maybe I want to get back to future wife with the badonkers. I’d get there faster if I stuck you with my sword.”

“Everybody knows your soft, Hawke,” says Dougal, dodging the admittedly lazy thrusts of Hawke’s blade. “Maybe if you’d been quicker to kill you wouldn’t have had to make a deal with me.”

“For Maker’s sake,” mutters Hawke, deftly cornering Dougal with renewed fire and squashing him against the wall with the flat of his blade. “Do I talk this much?”

“Yes!” comes the hollered chorus. 

“You can’t get rid of me so easy,” says Dougal, glancing at his subdued henchmen. “There’s only two ways to make me go away.”

“Three, actually,” comes a blessed voice from across the yard. The shuffling sound says she came with reinforcements. Dougal’s head falls back in annoyance.

“It’s my word against yours, Hawke,” he spits.

“When’s the last time you did a favor for the Viscount?” Hawke asks with a grin. “Or are you going to extort him too?”

“Not a bad bit of rescuing, if I do say so myself,” says Anders, attending to Fenris who mutters a string of Tevinter curses while a laceration in his side gets a dose of luminescent relief.

Aveline’s guards shackle the ones writhing in pain and check those who have already been trussed up. Hawke asks Anders to work on the most dire of Dougal’s injured goons, eager to relish in being the bigger man.

“Well, Hawke. Can’t say I’ll shed any tears about this one,” says Aveline come alongside Hawke. 

He feels a shadow of the same thrill he once got when she came around, but her indifference to him has at last settled permanently within him, the disappointment sticking like a splinter too deep.

“He threatened Mother," says Hawke, "Like a common hoodlum."

“The worst crime of all,” says Aveline with a wry little smile. “Give my best to Leandra.”

“Didn’t you hear? Leandra is hosting Hawke’s future wife,” chimes in Isabela.

“And she’s lovely!” adds Merrill, earnestly excited.

“Future wife, Hawke?” asks Aveline. “Leandra must be beside herself.”

Hawke’s eyes roll deeply back into their sockets. “They’re visiting for the week. An old friend and her daughter. Figure I’ll spend a little extra time down in Lowtown this week.”

“Aw, Hawke. What if she’s nice? You could use a nice girl,” says Aveline

“Like a singing, dancing bogfisher,” gazing at Aveline doubtfully.

She shakes her head at him in that same Maker-forsaken sisterly way she always has, but he has to acknowledge there’s some truth to it. His romantic heart has too long been preoccupied and alone, fixating on an impractical mirage. He daydreams of something. A secret intimacy of terrible jokes and favorite touches. Of lazy mornings and shared investigations. But he doubts the finicky creature who smirked at him once would be the woman for the job. There isn’t space in this life of his for anyone who can’t keep pace with his nonsense.

Hawke glances around at the carnage— a rather tidy victory, he admits— barely a mess for the street sweeps to cope with, and little more than a sweat broken. He remembers the stab wound near his elbow and shakes out his forearm and hand again before downing a mild healing pot and making a note to dress it at home.

“Watch your coffers, Hawke,” warns Dougal with a smirk as he’s hauled away.

“Better hurry on back,” says Aveline again with that same teasing diffidence.

Hawke snorts softly and thanks her for her timely aid. He makes everyone promise to bother him at the Hanged Man later where he’ll be taking refuge from the machinations of his mother and the elder Trevelyan woman.

Varric comes up alongside him and pats his back, fully aware of the long misery that’s in the midst of flickering out at last. “Come on, Chuckles. I’ll walk you home.”

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today, pt8

An Anders Lassen imagine where you're a medic working with the team, you and Anders may have a bit of a reputation together, and Anders is still trying to figure out how to deal with all of his feelings for you. But he really likes being naked with you.

And also killing Nazis.

Read it on ao3 / Check out the story’s masterlist

You're late to helping Gus with training some new recruits. When Anders tries to stop you, you show off your impressive new "skills" with "Danish". Spoiler alert: it's not that impressive, but Anders is certainly amused.

Things to expect: fluff, humor, reader mistakes Swedish for Danish again, Anders is a lovable asshole, adorable older brother Gus, and a hint at angst at the end. Also, there is such a thing as too much sex, you know. Around 2300 words.

You’re late.

You’re late.

You huff and glance at the clock on the wall, telling yourself that it’s the last time you’ll obsess over what the time is and knowing that it’s a lie. You were supposed to be at the large estate that the Ministry has been using as their headquarters an hour ago to help Gus with training some new recruits in some of the emergency medical skills that might be needed in the field. Their numbers have been steadily growing for a while now, after all. It isn’t just Gus, Anders, Apple, Hayesy, and Freddy anymore. There are over twenty more men who’ve come to work with them, strays Gus had somehow managed to pick up along the way. Your job is to keep them alive in the field.

But teaching them even just a few small things might buy enough time to keep them alive in an emergency until you can get to them…and in a war, on the ground, staging raids the way they do, getting hurt is just a fact of lie. The truth is, most of them probably won’t make it through the war.

The thought of it makes you feel sick to your stomach when you feel familiar big arms wrapping around you from behind. Anders tugs you back against him as you huff at the clock one more time and let him hold you, his face resting against yours. “Du er meget smuk.” He says it against your ear in a low purr that makes you shiver and, just for a moment, lose track of what you were doing.

“Anders.” You try to sound stern. Really, you do. But the way you laugh as Anders kisses your ear and plays with the hem of your shirt to slide his hand underneath completely ruins the effect. “We’re late. We’ve already used up all our time off. We have to get back.”

You and Anders have barely left the apartment in days. You’ve been sneaking back into Gus’s house at all hours of the night or early morning to climb into your own bed and pretend that you’ve been there the whole time and not practically living with Anders. Not that you’re really complaining about it.

Although the lower half of your body is noticeably a bit more sore than usual.

“Ja, ja. We must get back,” Anders agrees. He nips your ear playfully, letting his hands purposefully drift toward that spot under your shirt where you’re ticklish so that you’re squealing and trying to tug away from him as you laugh.

“Anders,” you practically growl this time, forcing yourself a few steps away from him and turning to glare at him. “Behave. I mean it.” You raise a finger at him—something that he definitely doesn’t take seriously as he grins down at you. “Hur mycket kostar det här!”

Anders stills—perfectly stills. The bear of a man, the Danish hammer, stands perfectly still and gazes at you with a look of awe and humor, those beautiful chocolate brown eyes wide, his grin only growing even wider. “Förstår du Svenska?”

Your finger hovers in the air as you keep glaring at him, although you have to admit to yourself that you’re feeling just a tad bit smug at this exact moment. You’ve been practicing and practicing your language skills for weeks now, sneaking around behind Anders’s back at the library whenever you got the chance. Now—now, you tell yourself silently, you get the chance to make all your hard work pay off and show Anders that he can’t just keep telling you lies about what he’s saying in Danish. Because you can speak it, too.

Or…your mouth falls open slowly, trying to process what Anders just said and remember the right words to respond… “Se upp för kanten.”

Anders’s mouth twitches and he gets that look. That self-satisfied look. He stands up straight from where he’d trying to chase you only seconds ago, crossing those big arms over his chest—looking just as smug as you feel when your gaze is momentarily drawn to them—and gives you the biggest, broadest grin you’ve ever seen on him. “And what is this, then?” Anders asks, eyebrows raised. You can’t help but think how gorgeous he is in the morning light that filters in through the window, how perfect he looks. It’s fucking distracting. The space between your legs throbs, all the muscles there firmly reminding you that they need a break and that there is, in fact, such a thing as too much sex. “Is this what you’ve been up to when I’m not around, kære?”

You lower your finger slowly, standing as tall as you can, letting your pride in yourself and your new skills show through. “I have been going to library whenever I have the time and learning Danish behind your back, yes.” You watch as Anders only seems to grow more amused. Or impressed. You’re not certain which, but there’s pride for you there. You can tell that much—he’s actually, genuinely proud of you for learning Danish. Damned if it doesn’t just make it all a little bit sweeter. “I’m going to learn Danish so that I can understand all those little phrases you say all the time and that you refuse to translate correctly for me.”

Anders’s mouth twitches, his chest shaking as if he’s holding back laughter, but he quickly covers it to try and look wounded, holding a hand over his heart and shaking his head. “You still doubt me, älskling.” He sighs. “You really believe I’ve been telling you lies all this time?”

“Yes,” you respond, because no way in hell are you going to let Anders get away with thinking he’s fooled you. Not this time. “Yes, I do.” If you’re going to be practically living at this apartment—and given the impressive amount of clothing you’ve currently got stuffed in a wardrobe in the bedroom, as well as all the fancy soaps that Anders has bought specifically for you in the bathroom, you might as well be—you’re going to learn Danish.

Anders gets a look then, a look that you just know has to be him putting you on but that looks so goddamn real that you feel a little guilty at the accusation. His grin slips. His shoulders slump. He looks dejected. “Jag är galen i dig.” The way he says it then, the emotion that seems to be there. As if the accusation itself has just completely destroyed him. “Vill du gifta dig med mig?” He gives you such a serious look that you feel yourself losing your sense of humor, dreading the translation of what he’s saying because you know, you just know, that it can’t be good. “Du är så vacker.”

A heavy silence stretches between the two of you as Anders looks so crestfallen and depressed at you calling him a liar and you feel guilty for it.

And then you remember who you’re dealing with. “You’re fucking with my head right now, aren’t you?” The way Anders grins at you, crinkles around his eyes as he pushes those tiny glasses up his nose, all self-assured and full of shit and pleased that you’ve called him on it. Before he can respond, you growl the most foul phrase you can remember learning at him and stomp your foot, hoping that you don’t look as ridiculous as you feel when you do. “Vilken fin stuga.”

Anders at least has the grace to try to hide his laughter again—barely. “Ja, ja,” he agrees with you, and you’re beginning to wonder if you remembered the right phrasing. “Du betyder så mycket för mig. Du är den jag har väntat på hela mitt liv.”

“What?”

Anders shrugs those big shoulders of his. “I was agreeing with you, käraste. You said we were going to be late and we needed to go meet Gus.” He’s suddenly very concerned with grabbing your coat and his so the two of you can leave.

“No, I didn’t.” You’re scowling when he hands you your coat. “I mean, I did, but that was earlier.”

“Ja,” he agrees with an emphatic nod of his head as you’re pulling it on. “Jag älskar dig högre än himlen. We have to go.” He’s grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the door gently, as if Anders Lassen has suddenly become the most punctual, responsible person in the world and you’re the one holding him up.

“I definitely didn’t say—wait, wait, wait.” You tug on your arm and force him to stop and look down at you, the big, beautiful bear of a man focused entirely on you. But you can’t think too much on that right now, even though you really, really want to, or you’ll forget what you’re trying to say. “We should arrive separately.” You glance up at Anders to see his eyebrows go up, that hint of smile on his face again. “We don’t want to be obvious about the two of us…” You pause, reaching out a hand to gesture vaguely between you and Anders.

The hint of a smile grows. Apparently, you’re just endlessly amusing today. “Min älskade, I think they already know about us after all the times Freddy’s walked in on—”

“But they don’t know about—” You cut him off, then find yourself at a loss for words, trying to suddenly define out loud what this thing between the two of you has turned into. The fact that you’re here, at a place that Anders has obviously been trying to keep to himself, that he seems like he’s making room for you here. The assumption that you’re staying here and that you’ll want to be here like the most natural thing in the world. Anders just waits patiently, looking as amused as ever and in no hurry to help you out.

“About…what?” Anders prompts you, feigning concern for the second in this conversation. But you’re not having it.

“You know what,” you say, finally losing patience while Anders looks even more concerned. You point a finger up at him again. “You’re a little shit.” Mock concern quickly becomes amusement once again, wildly entertained at your choice in words. “And you can wait here and leave ten minutes after me so that we don’t arrive together.”

You’re pushing around him and moving for the door when Anders makes a noise of pretend frustration. “Jag älskar dig något galet.” Anders comes up directly behind you and then moves to lean against the door frame where you’re reaching for the doorknob. “But then I’ll be late!”

You yank the door open and scowl up at him, annoyed at how entertained he is and how goddamned good he looks leaning against the doorframe, hair still tousled from bed, glasses just a little too far down the bridge of his nose, mouth pulled back into that annoyingly perfect smirk of his. “You’re already late, so it shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

And then you leave quickly before Anders can say something else and distract you from your goal, which is to not be any later than you already are and then, when you’re done for day, find out what the hell went wrong with your Danish.

Gus is waiting for you when you finally get there. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, wearing one of those turtleneck sweaters he and Apple seem to prefer, watching as some of the new recruits practice hand to hand combat and not looking terribly impressed. You try not to be too obvious as you walk up from behind to meet him, but Gus seems to have that supernatural sort of talent that Anders has—he just knows that you’re there. “We don’t need to have a talk about Anders,” Gus says slowly, sounding exasperated as a pair of recruits fall to the ground from a clumsy attempt at whatever move Gus demonstrated to them before you got there. “But we do need to have a talk about punctuality.”

You pause, trying to figure out the right response, and then take a hesitant step forward, coming to stand next to him. You’re still a little awkward with Gus these days, although not because of anything Gus has done. It’s just…disconcerting. Every time you look at Gus now, you remember James, but it doesn’t hurt the way you expect it to. There’s a strange kind of peace with it.

And then there’s Gus as a person, who only met you once before James was killed and has treated you like a sister ever since, no matter what.

“I can explain.” You can’t quite bring yourself to look at him, instead watching the recruits and wincing every time one of them takes a hit or falls to the ground.

“After what happened on the mission, that’s not really necessary, is it?” You glance toward Gus from the corner of your eye to see him looking toward you in much the same way, his lips pursed. “It ended a little more…” Gus trails off, seeming to consider his words. “Bloody than usual for Anders—and he didn’t even cut anyone’s heart out with a knife this time.”

You look fully toward Gus now, remembering that day back on the Maid Honor when Anders had approached you after the mission to rescue Apple.

I even brought you a present. A Nazi heart. I cut it out myself. I thought I might give it to you as a token of affection.

“Did he really do that?” You remember asking Anders about it then, the awful silence that passed before he finally responded.

“He did,” Gus confirms, his gaze now back on the men as if he’s not entirely happy with the direction of the conversation.

You watch him for a long moment, wishing for all the world that you could read Gus like he seems to be able to read you. Like Anders seems to be able to read you. “Why?”

Gus sighs. He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck, scratches at his beard. “He said it was for the avoidance of doubt.”

“Is…is that what you think it was?”

“I think,” Gus starts, then pauses. Frowns and gives himself a moment before he continues. “Anders is a good man and I’m not worried about you with him.” He looks toward you with an expression that you haven’t seen since your family died, warm and soft and filled with concern. “But everyone has a past, Y/N. Whatever it was that happened to Anders’s brother when the Gestapo had him, he’s not ready to let go of it.” Gus shakes his head. “Maybe he never will be. You need to be ready to deal with that.”

“I am ready.” You are, you think.

Gus gives you a long, hard look. “Just remember, Y/N. If you’re ever…afraid,” Gus puts emphasis on the word, frowning, not happy with it. “Or you just need a place to stay, you always have a room at the house.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Did I move out and someone forgot to tell me?”

Gus matches your look with one of his own, somewhere between challenging you and being amused. “Didn’t you?”

You feel your cheeks warm and suddenly you can’t hold his gaze, turning awkwardly back to facing the new recruits again. “Anyway, you just said you weren’t worried about me with him. Why do you think I would be afraid?”

“Because the last mission ended with you watching him chop five Nazis into little pieces with an axe while you screamed and begged him to stop.” The answer is clipped and direct, and maybe the only thing that could bring you to look Gus in the eyes again. Gus, who you’ll never stop thinking of as the carefree troublemaker who offered to propose to a married woman just to protect you and James from his mother’s machinations. “I’m not too proud to say that that would stick with me for a while after the mission was over.”

But you’re not scared—not of Anders. “There were extenuating circumstances. He was just protecting me and the children.” You’ve been many things when it comes to Anders Lassen—attracted, overwhelmed, exasperated, frustrated. But you’ve never been afraid of him.

You’ve only ever been afraid for him…afraid that at some point, Anders may find himself at a breaking point and not be able to save himself.

At what point does the violence become too great, the bloodshed too much, for a man to come back from it? Just because you make it through a war alive, that doesn’t mean that you’ve survived it, and Anders Lassen is too beautiful a man to make it through this war and not survive.

Thar’s the only thing you could think about when you saw him that day, axe in hand and covered in blood, killing the men who were about to hurt you.

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If you speak Danish or Swedish and these are wrong...it's not my fault. Google did it. Blame Google.

Du er meget smuk, Danish, "You are very beautiful"

Hur mycket kostar det här!, Swedish, "How much does this cost?"

Förstår du Svenska?, Swedish, "Do you understand Swedish?" (clearly, Y/N does not)

Se upp för kanten, Swedish, "Watch out for the edge."

kære, Danish, "dear"

älskling, Swedish, "honey

Jag är galen i dig, Swedish, "I'm crazy about you

Vill du gifta dig med mig?, Swedish, "Do you want to marry me?"

Du är så vacker, Swedish, "You are so beautiful"

Vilken fin stuga, Swedish, "What a nice cottage" (reader is just a step away from getting one of those inappropriate Hungarian phrasebooks from the Monty Python sketch)

Du betyder så mycket för mig. Du är den jag har väntat på hela mitt liv. Swedish, "You mean so much to me. You're the one I've been waiting for all my life.

käraste, Swedish, "Dearest"

Jag älskar dig högre än himlen, Swedish, "I love you higher than the sky"

Min älskade, Swedish, "My beloved"

Jag älskar dig något galet, Swedish, "I love you something crazy"

Because, you know, Anders really needed another language to screw with your head in. 😜