#anders would win of course

[yudol-skorbi]

i miss my wife tails

[jeicey]

CHERRY LIPGLOSS SUCKS

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You and Regina have a long-standing history together, and now, with your exes pairing up in a new relationship, you are reluctantly forced to work together to win them back. Will the familiarity bring you closer, or will old habits resurface, leading to further tensions?

Warnings: manipulative regina, profanity, beginner fanfic writer:so mid writing, mentions of weed and mozzarella sticks

Words:1.3k

A/N:Thank you so much for all the support on Part 1, especially to that one user who reblogged and said "go read or u suck" I LOVE U.

Regina's words echoed in my mind like a stuck record."

"Ill see you tomorrow, after school, underneath the bleache-"

"Dude!" Mae jolted me out of my thoughts, snapping. My brain instantly refocused on the present moment.

The final class had just 5 minutes left, and I had to meet Regina. I hadn't had a genuine and meaningful conversation with Regina in a while. Our last talk had taken place years ago, and it didn't exactly conclude on the best terms.

-

"Did You really have to be that honest?!"

-

"Y-Yeah?" I stammered as I shook my head, desperately trying to clear my mind.

"Are you even paying attention?" she asked with an eye roll.

Trying to cover up my shit, I responded with a snort, "Of course!" hoping she would buy my lie.

Unconvinced, she asked, "So, when is Anders' soccer game?"

Ander plays soccer?

I gulped, "Tomorrow?" I replied, my voice smaller.

"Ander has asthma, dumbass." She pointed out

My shoulders sagged as I let out a resigned sigh, muttering under my breath, "fuck you, reverse psychology."

"You good?"

I attempted to brush off Mae's concern, replying, "It's nothing."

She gave me a skeptical look, countering, "Bullshit. You didn't even touch those mozzarella sticks I brought you. You love mozzarella sticks."

"I was full," I argued lamely, attempting to defend myself.

Mae raised a skeptical eyebrow, reminding me, "You guzzle down a Red Bull every morning for breakfast. Your 'full' card doesn't fly, genius."

"I'm just not in the mood today, okay?" I reasoned again

"Fine," Mae conceded, slightly annoyed. "I'm going to go help Brynn roll some. Want to join?"

I shook my head, declining her offer.

"Nah, I have something to do," I responded, already turning to leave the classroom.

Mae looked at me suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Okay..." she replied, still doubting my excuse.

I was growing increasingly annoyed as I waited for Regina under the stinking bleachers. The place absolutely reeked, and I had been tapping my foot in irritation for far too long.

"I'm a bit surprised you actually showed up."

Regina stated as she approached me with a confident stride.

I responded in a sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes, "Yeah, blackmailing me about my friends really works wonders."

I glanced around, surprised not to see Gretchen and Karen accompanying her, as usual.

I couldn't help but comment, "Where are your backscratching bootlickers?" I raised an eyebrow.

With a slight tilt of her head she responded with a snarky remark, "Your mouth is still as vulgar as ever, i guess some things never change."

"As if you're any better." I mumbled under my breath, too low for her to hear

"Woah woah, dating!?" I replied, thoroughly taken aback. "No way am i going to be your girlfriend!"

Regina quickly corrected me, "Pretend." She rolled her eyes, growing impatient with me. "Do you want Tina back?" She asked, her annoyance clear. "Then there's no question about it.

I wrestled with the idea, questioning if it was even worth the effort.

My face twisted in doubt as I questioned her plan. "How do you even know this will work?"

Regina's voice took on a venomous tone as she snapped, "Can you just shut up and trust me?"

My scoff turned into a mocking laugh. "Trust you, Regina?" I taunted

-

I sat alone in my darkened room, tears streaming down my face as I clutched my teddy bear tightly for comfort. My room looked like a cyclone had gone through it; pillows and blankets scattered every which way, and pieces of paper and pictures torn up. I could hear my mother's concerned voice outside my door, saying Regina wanted to talk to me. I shouted back, my voice shaking with anger, "Tell her to fuck off!"

-

I scoffed in disbelief. "Right, because the last time I trusted you really worked out well for me." The memory of her betrayal still stung.

"Can we not discuss that right now?" Regina replied sharply, but my anger remained.

The audacity of this bitch is terrifying!

"We're going to have to work together, so if you keep bringing it up, you're just making this more uncomfortable than it already is."

My anger gradually faded, replaced by a begrudging acceptance. I hated to admit it, but she was right

— we I couldn't keep dwelling on the past if we were going to make this plan work.

I reluctantly agreed, "Fine," Part of me yearned for an acknowledgement, for her to address the past, but her lack of response just left me feeling disappointed.

Regina sneered disdainfully, her gaze traveling along my entire body, her eyes judging me. "What the fuck are you wearing?" she taunted, as if I had committed a fashion felony.

I looked down at my clothes, feeling a bit self-conscious. "What?" I replied defensively, unsure of the issue.

Regina abruptly grabbed my wrist, her touch surprisingly warm. Without a word, she began pulling me towards her red Jeep.

"where are you tak—" I started, but she quickly cut me off, her words laced with annoyance.

"I am not going to be seen with an outdated loser," she retorted, her grip not relenting as we approached her vehicle.

I stumbled slightly as she practically dragged me along, trying to protest, "It's just a band tee!"

My wrist felt the absence of her touch as Regina turned to open the driver's door of her Jeep.

As she settled into the driver's seat I glanced back at the passenger and the back seat, debating where to sit.

Opting for the safer choice, I reached out for the back door handle before Regina interrupted me.

"Sit in the passenger seat, idiot," she ordered, her tone cutting through the air.

Reluctantly, I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside Regina, sitting a slight distance away from her. As she started the jeep and began driving, I turned my gaze towards the window.

I tried once more to get an answer, my eyes still glued to the outside world.

"Seriously," I persisted, "where are we going?"

Regina's response was brief, "Shopping," she replied. "If I'm going to pretend to date you, you at least need some proper clothes."

The cafeteria felt oddly silent as a murmur of whispers surrounded me. I couldn't tell if it was my anxiety playing tricks on me, but the atmosphere felt eerily hushed.

"I hate this," I muttered under my breath, feeling the weight of everyone's gazes upon me. Wearing the clothes Regina had deemed socially acceptable yesterday made me feel even more out of place right now.

My train of thought came to a halt as my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Regina: "Stop standing there like a statue. Come sit with us."

I glanced at my phone, finding a flurry of messages from my friends group chat. "Where are you?" and "What the hell are you wearing" filled the screen. I reluctantly raised my gaze to our usual table, only to see my friends staring at me, bewildered. Swiftly muting my phone, I headed towards the plastics table.

'Took you long enough,' she muttered, as I approached, her eyes glued to her phone, no doubt scrolling through Instagram.

Gretchen, a hint of false enthusiasm in her expression, looks up from her phone. "Why's she here?" she asks, peering at Regina through raised eyebrows.

Regina retorts with a deadpan tone, rolling her eyes slightly, "To sit with us.”

Gretchen, her voice rising in pitch, exclaims, "What?! She can't-" only to be cut off by Regina's firm interject.

"Sit," Regina says, her inflection leaving no room for argument.

I hesitantly moved to sit across them.

"Hey, sorry- uh," I greet, looking between Karen and Gretchen with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why am I sitting here? This is not part of the plan!" I whisper-yelled at Regina, leaning in closer to avoid being overheard.

With a roll of her eyes, Regina replied, "Just go with it." She set her phone down, adding, "Tina's watching".

I glanced around the cafeteria, spotting Tina seated with her clique, watching me intently. In that moment, our eyes met, confirming that the first step of Regina's plan had been successfully executed.

Step one:Complete

A/N: next part is cadys arrival😱🥶

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed, pt3

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

Anders has to fight his protective instincts to train you to fight for a mission. A shorter part with humor leading to angst in pts 4 and 5

tagging @tiredbutthrivingfaequeen for some Anders Lassen goodness

“Oof, min elksling, you’re so lovely when you’re about to hit me. It makes me want to let you win just so you can have your way with me.”

You scowl and raise your fists at him in warning, glaring at him with a rising need to actually hit him and not just practice it. “You know what,” you say in response, bouncing a little on your toes as you shift in preparation to throw a punch. “I think I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass.”

You move—you swing—Anders catches your punch and spins the two of you around like he’s twirling you on the dance floor, moving with a grace that no one would expect from a man of his size and bulk, as if he was born and raised in a ballroom. He smirks at you as he grabs a firm hold of your wrist, giving your body one solid tug toward him that makes you stumble and fall against his heavy chest with a quiet thud. He manages to twist your arm behind your back before you can process exactly what’s happened, gazing down at you with those beautiful—annoying, obnoxious, frustratingly perfect—brown eyes, looking for all the world like the two of you are only dancing.

Just two lovers, or whatever you are today, pulling each other close and moving to the sound of some imaginary soundtrack.

God, you want to slap him.

“Hej lille blomst,” Anders says, giving your arm another tiny twist—not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you firmly in place against him. All of him. “Ja, perhaps this time I will let you have me the way you like, hm?” Another tug near your waist, a meaty palm at your hip, a bulge pressing against you as warmth pools between your thighs. “Or perhaps I will have my way with you, musling.” He leans in, knowing exactly the right amount of distance to keep so that your face warms with his proximity and the heat of his breath, his now shaggy bangs that are in need of a trim catching in your hair as he looks down at you with an expression that’s entirely uncivilized. “Would you like me to take you to my bed, min skat?” His hand closes around your waist more tightly, the grip unforgiving and possessive. “I could tie you down for me to play with.” The hand gripping your wrist behind your back loosens just a little, only enough that you can feel Anders’s thumb stroking gentle circles over your pulse there, his eyes seeming to sparkle at the realization of how your pulse is fluttering as he holds you against him. “I could make you scream, so all the men here know you belong to me. Doesn’t that sound nice, lille musling?”

“Anders,” you growl in warning, although it lacks the seriousness you want it to. But it’s hard, you think then—er, it’s…distracting…the way you’re pressed against…well, against… “This is serious. You’re supposed to be training me to fight against Nazis.” Not against your cock. The words never quite make it to your lips, the hard ridge of his cock proving too much to fight against on top of trying to keep your mind on the task at hand. “If I’m going into combat situations with you, I want to be prepared in case anything happens.”

And just that like, the humor and playfulness slips from Anders’s face. It’s subtle, of course. If you hadn’t made a habit of staring at that face and memorizing all of its looks, all of those little expressions that you quietly try to decipher from one moment to the next, you might have missed it. “Nej.” The word, which you’ve come to interpret collectively as no, not a chance, fuck no, hell no, no fucking way, and are you out of your fucking mind depending on Anders’s tone and facial expression, is said without room for argument. As if Anders gets the final say in this matter. “Not you, elskede. You stay on the ship, where it’s safe.”

You snort. You can’t help it. The sound is crude and unladylike, which seems to bring some of the humor back to Anders’s face as his lips twitch and those lines around his eyes crinkle softly. “Safe. In the ship.”

“Ja, safe in the ship,” Anders insists, not budging even an inch—either in his hold of you or on the subject.

“You mean the ship that’ll be traveling through Nazi infested waters,” you say then, forcing yourself to stand a little straighter—a plan that seemed better in your head, before you realized how it ground his cock even more against you as his smirk grew a little more lecherous—and hold his gaze. “And filled with weapons, spies, and British soldiers. That ship?”

“Ja,” Anders says with approval, resting his forehead against yours now even as he tries to figure out how he can maneuver you to grind against him like that again. “That ship. Safe and sound.”

You glare at him, not amused…but still somewhat distracted. “And supposing that the ship is attacked and there are Nazis who come to arrest or kill me. What do you suggest I do then?”

Anders’s heavy body freezes against you, his jaw tight at you watch him consider a question that he clearly isn’t happy with. “Then you wait for me to come and I kill all the Nazis for you.” He says it so matter of fact, as if you should have known the answer already. “Slowly,” he adds then. “Lots of screaming. I’ll use my axe.”

“So…” You’re trying to figure out how to navigate this conversation, to make Anders see reason. You’re the team medic. Your whole purpose here is to be there to give out medical aid in the event that the men need it. In case Anders needs it. Lately, you have this recurring nightmare of Anders being out in the field and getting hurt—getting shot, straying too close to a mine, being too close to a grenade blast, being on the wrong end of an axe—and needing help, but you’re not there. The last two nights, you’ve woken in a cold sweat, barely able to catch your breath and only relaxing when you’ve pushed yourself up to look down at Anders in the dim light of your shared bedroom so that you could see for yourself that he’s okay. Anders Lassen, the Danish Hammer, your lover. You’re not sure what you would do if anything ever happened to him—you’re not even able to imagine it. Without Anders in your life, it’s like the world would just…stop. “You’re saying that you’d prefer me to stay a damsel in distress and to wait for my prince to come and rescue me? Is that it?”

Anders opens his mouth to respond, pauses, then seems to think better of it. He scowls now, letting out a low, bear-like growl that rumbles over your body in the most delicious way. “Nej.” He pauses again, his scowl deepening. “Muligvis.” Another pause. His hands tightens around your wrist, as if he’s afraid of letting you go. “Helt sikkert.” Another pause. He squeezes you against him, gazing down at you with an expression that you don’t know how to read. Longing? Fear? Confusion? “Det tror jeg ikke.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry at the seriousness of the moment, the conversation. The way Anders is holding you. The way he’s looking at you, as if this moment is terribly important. As if this conversation is the only thing that matters. “I need to be able to help you.” You let your body relax against his, the fight going out of it as Anders responds automatically, letting the hard bulk of him curl around you protectively, possessively. “And I need to do the job I’m here to do.”

Anders doesn’t respond for a long moment. He barely even blinks as he gazes down at you, although in a strange way, the two of you really are dancing, his body gently rocking in a soft, barely perceptible movement as he holds you. Anders Lassen, the Danish Hammer, your lover, the man who never stands still. “I need you to be safe, min prinsesse.”

Anders Lassen, the Danish Hammer, your lover, the man who never stands still…the man who’s practically a six foot plus wall of muscle and stubborn determination, who you’ve never seen bend or succumb to another person’s will…except for yours, now. “Then I guess you’d better do one hell of a job training me,” you respond, feeling a new kind of warmth for him as his grip on your wrist loosens enough that you can twist your hand to reach for his, your palm closing around his and holding his hand gently. In the context of your relationship, even with all the physical intimacies you’ve already shared, this feels strangely more intimate. “Don’t you think, min surströmming?”

The gentle rocking movement of your bodies suddenly stops and slowly, surprisingly, Anders begins to smirk again as he gazes down at you, his eyes lighting up with something like humor. “What did you say?”

You grin at him, gazing up at him proudly now. “Min surströmming.” His lips twitch, smirk slowly turning into a grin that splits his face in a look of wholehearted humor you can’t remember seeing on his face in all the time you’ve known him. “I found it in the library. It means my big, strong man in Danish.” You’d gone out of your way to learn it on your last day off. “You’re always calling me embarrassing pet names in Danish—now you have one, too.”

“Oooh, allerkæreste,” Anders says, “Jeg er ved at blive forelsket i dig.”

You look at him impatiently. “You do know that I still don’t speak Danish, right?”

The thing is, Anders does know. After all, you did just call him a fermented herring in Swedish…but then, Anders thinks, he did let you think he’s been calling you an ugly fish all this time, so maybe it’s only fair that he lets you have this one. Especially since he still doesn’t want you to fight.

He doesn’t want you to know what it feels like to kill.

[glitterrosesnzz]

unnecessary things

man this is SO LATE but i finished writing a b-day snz fic for W/anderer!!!

word count: 1k

“Hh-hH’Nxt!!” 

Aether froze mid-step, looking over his shoulder at where the Wanderer was standing behind him, avoiding eye contact. 

“...Was that a sneeze?” Aether asked, turning around fully to face him. The Wanderer tsked, tilting his hat down so that Aether couldn’t see his eyes. 

“You must be hearing things… maybe you should go get your ears checked.” He said, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m nothing more than a puppet. I don’t do such unnecessary things.” 

“Oh, really?” Aether started walking towards the other, smirking a little when the Wanderer took an instinctive step back. “Then surely you wouldn’t mind if I tested a few things, would you?” 

“And just what gives you the impression that I’m going to let you do that?” 

“Because if you don’t, then I’ll know for sure that you were lying to me just now.” 

“...Tch. Whatever.” The Wanderer slowly moved to sit down on the ground. “Have your fun. You’ll soon see that this is pointless.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Aether kneeled down in front of him, rummaging around in his bag for something to make the other sneeze, but… hm. Now that he was thinking about it, what would make a puppet sneeze? The Wanderer was definitely capable of sneezing, Aether knew that what he had heard had not just been his mind playing tricks on him, but what had even set him off in the first place? Had it just been random? 

“We don’t have all day you know.” The Wanderer said, tapping his finger on his knee impatiently, seemingly bored already. “Hurry up and get this over with.” 

Huffing out a breath, Aether abandoned the useless contents of his bag, and decided to pick one of the longer pieces of grass surrounding the two of them. The Wanderer smirked. 

“Seriously? A plant? Need I remind you that I was almost a god, a strand of grass isn’t going to affect me.” 

“Oh, just shut up already.” A piece of grass wouldn’t have been Aether’s first pick either, but it was the best thing he had right now. Reaching out, he gently grabbed hold of the Wanderer’s chin, tilting the other’s head to have a slightly better angle. Surprisingly, the Wanderer didn’t protest this motion, instead remaining silent as Aether began to swish the piece of grass back and forth. 

After a few minutes or so of no reaction, Aether let out a slightly frustrated noise, briefly pulling the grass away in order to lightly flick the Wanderer’s nose. 

“You do realize that refusing to breathe implies that I was right, right?” Aether asked. The Wanderer blinked- seemingly surprised at having been caught, before glaring at him. Aether didn’t rise to it, instead waiting patiently, blade of grass at the ready. After a moment of prolonged eye contact, the Wanderer reluctantly let out a breath. 

It hitched soon after. 

Aether’s face lit up as the Wanderer’s glare darkened. 

“Don’t think that means anyth- hIH- h-hey!” The Wanderer’s expression started to twist into something else altogether as Aether immediately got right back to work, gently tilting the Wanderer’s head from side to side as he tried to find just the right angle. “W-wait- hiH… hEh…” 

Aether stuck his tongue out slightly as he focused, twisting the grass back and forth. He must have briefly hit some sort of spot, if the way the Wanderer’s hitching breaths had momentarily pitched up was any indication, it was just a matter of finding that spot again. The Wanderer’s hands slowly lifted up- 

“If you rub your nose or stop me, it means I win.” Aether deadpanned, and the Wanderer’s hands froze in place. From the way they were trembling slightly, it must be taking the Wanderer some effort to keep them from moving any further. Aether let out a small laugh. “Although, I’ve practically already won, considering you so obviously need to sneeze.” 

“HihH- N-no I don-hH- hiIH-” 

“Of course you do, listen to you!” Aether continued, “You can’t stop hitching like ‘heH’ and ‘hAH’-” 

“Hh’nNxti!!” The Wanderer abruptly forcibly pulled away to stifle a sneeze into his hands. Aether paused, briefly shocked, before coming to a realization as the Wanderer’s breath hitched again. 

“Wait, hold on-” 

“S-shut, hEH-, shutup- hiH-” 

“Did you sneeze just because I mimicked it?” Aether asked, watching in fascination as the Wanderer’s ears slowly turned a faint shade of red. “You did, didn’t you.” 

The Wanderer shook his head in the negative, unable to speak as his breath hitched desperately. 

“Hh- hEH’xNtiu!! Hh’Nxtii!!” He stifled two more sneezes into his hands. Aether let out a disapproving sound. 

“C’mon now, don’t stifle, it’s bad for you.” He said, reaching out and grabbing hold of the Wanderer’s wrists. The Wanderer startled, leaning back- 

Tilted off balance, the Wanderer went tumbling backwards, Aether being slightly dragged with him. Aether let out a small yelp, quickly reorienting himself, blinking to discover that the Wanderer’s hat had fallen off in the brief movement- 

And that he currently practically had the Wanderer pinned to the ground. 

…Hm. Well, actually… he could roll with this. 

“Get off of me.” The Wanderer managed to hiss out- seemingly practically biting his tongue before his breath could hitch again. 

“Nu-uh, I don’t think I will.” Aether smirked as the Wanderer choked back another hitching breath. “Don’t hold back on my account. Or, maybe, do you need me to teach you how to sneeze?” 

“D-don’t-” 

“You already have the ‘hiIH-’ and ‘hEH-’ part down, now you just need the-” 

“Hh- hiH’IsHKiu!!” 

“There you go!” Aether laughed despite the strong surge of anemo energy, leaning into his geo affinity to remain unaffected. “Now was that so hard-” 

“Hh’shKiu!! Hih- hEH’inKshii! F-fuck- hH’iKshiu!!” 

“Bless you!” Aether let go of the Wanderer’s wrists, getting off of him as the other sat up, breath still hitching. “Maybe this was a bit too much, huh?” 

“Hh’NxTtii!!” Attempting to stifle again did the Wanderer no favours as his next hitching breath reached a much more desperate pitch. “HhEH- hH’iSHiu!! Heh’ShKii!! H’eshii!! Hh- hIH- hhEH’inKShiu!!” 

Aether watched in silence as the Wanderer sniffled, rubbing his nose against his sleeve. 

“So…” He started, after a significant number of seconds had passed without another hitching breath from the other. “What was that about not needing to do ‘unnecessary things’, again?” 

The Wanderer paused in the middle of retrieving his hat to give him a glare. (With his hair mussed up from both the tumble and the sneezing fit though, Aether couldn’t help but imagine a hissing kitten.)

“...Shut up.” The Wanderer muttered, before pitching his voice louder. “If you’ve finished amusing yourself with childish games, we have stuff to do.” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Aether rolled his eyes, “Just know that I will be remembering this.” 

The Wanderer said nothing in response, walking past him, but Aether couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed the faint blush on the other’s face.

[woso-dreamzzz]

They aren’t the greatest but here you go!

Bambi was VERY sick during her pregnancy with James like super sick. She grace often had to stay at home with bambi with how sick she was.

Grace was a literal saint btw!!! Probably could write a baby book on how much that woman learnt over the course of bambi’s pregnancy

But who was there the times Grace had to go to work… none other than Jenni and bambi’s dad Rafael! He was quick to pull out his wallet and buy all the things his grandson would need!

Cribs yes

Nappies yes

Bottles yes

In fact to he just gave his card to bambi he’s missed out on so much of her life how DARE he miss out on his precious bambi!

Well infact jenni and Rafael had to fight to pay for things or even build them in the end it resulted in grace and Jenni doing the floor things while Anders could do the things on the walls such as painting and shelves thanks to his height!

In her pregnancy with James bambi was terrified. Well and truly terrified. For the silly reason was that James was measure to be massive!

Like once grace got one of those stupid apps and was like oh he’s the size of a grape fruit bambi was very quick to remind grace infact James was very large! (He was…he was born 9 pounds)

Alexia never actually found out Bambi was pregnant from Bambi… or grace or anyone really in-fact she found from being at an away match with Spain and seeing her VERY pregnant daughter. When she returned home she told Olga straight away but when she told Jaume he just replied with a simple nod (he knew of course)

When James was born it was an epiphany in itself Bambi actually went into labour having brunch with her father so Rafael had to very awkwardly help Bambi get to hospital.

The overall labour with James was slow… So slow. Grace actually was offered a bed to sleep in it was that long Bambi in total laboured for over 15 hours. But don’t worry grace didn’t leave her side nor did Rafael or Jenni in the waiting room just outside

It actually caused a very unlikely friendship between the Madrid and Barca fan them bonding over being ex professionals.

Bambi having horrible morning sickness. It was so bad and she felt so ill all the time and Grace used to rub her back as Bambi leaned over the toilet.

Bambi would mention something she and Grace were thinking of getting for the baby and it arrives at the doorstep within the day because Bambi's dad has no concept of restrained and will just buy anything for Bambi.

Jenni also doing something similar and then it's like a war between them on who can buy Bambi what she talked about and Grace is all like 'should we stop them???' and Bambi's like 'no, I want to see who wins'

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

A while ago someone called Joseph wrote a comment on my post Picky women are not the (sole) cause of the failures of the dating market. Joseph insisted that women on the present-day dating market are actually very picky, and that they are showing it outright. 

“Women these days seem to see themselves as a prize and often act like dating is 'for them'. They expect the guy to make the moves, make the plans, put in most if not all the effort in an attempt to 'win them over'.”

Joseph reasoned that this is a relatively recent phenomenon that has developed during the last few decades. All in all, he argued like someone who was difficult to ignore. 

So I started to investigate the issue as scientifically thoroughly as possible: By watching high school movies with my family. First I watched some high school movies from the 1990s and then a couple of brand new ones for comparison. The movies I saw supported Joseph's claim. The girls depicted in the late 1990s movies were clearly more agreeable than those in the modern movies. In the high school movies from the late 1990s, high school was a universe of its own, centered around friendship and romantic love. The girls did their best to be nice and attractive, sometimes to the degree that they became stereotypically stupid bimbo girls. 

By contrast, in the present-day high school movies (which are, by the way, not called high school movies any more, but teen movies) I watched, high school was a bleak place the protagonists aimed at going through in order to get to college. During the course of the movie, the female protagonists learned that there actually is something more to life than studying and getting to college: There can be some friendship and love in high school too. 

Not pleased to meet you

Beside my very scientific comparison of movies, I have another reason to believe that young women have become more unpleasant as dating partners: Not a very long time ago, I was a young woman myself. And in that role, I learned a few important things:

In every situation, young women need to exhibit a certain dose of unpleasantness. 

The appropriate dose of unpleasantness is highly dependent on the situation. 

Situations where casual sex is common require the most unpleasantness. More or less, there is a sliding scale where the appropriate dose of unpleasantness is proportional to the possibility of casual sex to happen. For a young woman, some situations require a tough, unpleasant surface, while other situations allow naive openness.

For that reason, I find it entirely plausible that the dating market of today requires more unpleasantness than the dating market of a few decades ago. If the possibility of casual sex has increased, the perceived necessity for pleasantness is likely to have changed too. 

I guess that most young women don't even notice how they are fine-tuning their variable levels of unpleasantness. The only reason why I noticed that thing when I was a young woman is that I sometimes failed spectacularly in putting in the right dose of unpleasantness on the right occasion. Only that way it became evident to me that young women need to be more unpleasant in some situations compared to others. 

When I was young, I was in a slightly unusual situation compared to most young women. I spent most of my time looking unavailable to men, accompanied by husband and children or visibly pregnant. And then, occasionally, I would get out into the world all alone, looking like any woman of my age. At such occasions I had a tendency to act naively and to be over-friendly. I was so used to being protected by my matronly status, that I was unable to adapt when I temporarily went out of it. 

For example, once when I was 22 years old I left Anders and our baby son in order to travel to Berlin to find an apartment for us. I boarded a budget flight all alone. A man was sitting on one row of the airplane. He was about 35 years old, blond with an Eastern European look and a hard, serious face. He wore a t-shirt with a cross symbol on it (some Polish right wing symbol, he would explain). He made eye contact with me and signaled for me to take the seat next to his. 

I complied. Not because I liked anything about him; just because I had forgotten how to say no to people. With a baby by my side, I didn't need to say no to people. Instead, I needed people to help me lift a pram over staircases and on and off buses and trains. The year with a baby had brought me out of synch with the task of rebuffing sexual advances. I wasn't reflexively unpleasant anymore. Not even a little. So when a man made eye-contact with me, I just approached him. 

When I realized my mistake, it was difficult to get out. We tried to make conversation, but Right Wing Man From Poland apparently wasn't a man of words. He bought us ridiculously expensive icecream, without asking me if I wanted it, and I felt obliged to eat it. I was trapped like an animal and I was being fed like an animal. It certainly wasn't my life's most socially graceful moment. 

With time, and after a few more mistakes of the kind above, I learned that suddenly regaining my shape after pregnancy and leaving home without a baby left me unprotected. After every pregnancy, I had to gradually build up my levels of unpleasantness again. On the occasions that I just threw myself out into the world, I was initially too defenseless. 

Personally I don't like to be unpleasant. So with time I learned tricks to avoid that obligation. Most of all, avoiding socializing during night time was an important rule to follow. Curiously, in Western societies there is a strong, invisible norm that flirtation should be done in the evening. Like if evenings and nights are “sexy time”, as Borat says in his eponymous film. In the Muslim world (the limit line is at the Bosporus, in my experience) there is no important difference - all time is sexy time there. But in Europe, most men restrain themselves during daytime. Just avoiding social settings during evenings and nights did the trick to a remarkable degree. 

Rules no more

In the casual sex market, men have the role of beggars. A few are robbers, a few are entertainers, but most fall into the beggar category. Basically, men who try to obtain casual sex use the same tactics as beggars tend to use: They use their targets’ instincts for friendliness to catch their attention. Then, when they have got the target’s attention, they steer the topic into casual sex/money for nothing. For that reason, young women need to learn to be unfriendly to men for the same reason that people in general learn to be unfriendly to beggars. 

When group A wants something from group B that most members of group B do not want to give, someone needs to be unpleasant. Either there needs to be unpleasant rules saying that members of group A are not allowed to ask members of group B for what they want. Or the individuals of group B need to act unpleasantly themselves. 

Laws against begging are a case in point. Banning people from asking for money they might desperately need is unpleasant. It also prevents the minority that feel good from giving money to beggars from doing what they like. Laws against begging moves the obligation to be unpleasant from individuals to society as a whole. 

I think the same principle applies to the casual sex question. Either society makes unpleasant rules and norms that protect young women from requests for casual sex. One obvious price for such rules is that a minority of women who actually want casual sex will miss out on opportunities. The upside is that young women will not have to be unpleasant themselves. The rules will be unpleasant in their place.

What happens when rules for relationships are abolished one by one? What happens when everything is allowed, as long as it is consensual? Then the burden to say “I consent” or “I do not consent” lies squarely with the individual. Individual women need to radiate “I do not consent”. [...]

20 years ago, when I was on the dating market myself, there were still rules of fair play. A young woman who naively dated a handsome man only to discover that he dated several other women simultaneously would be justified to blame him for being dishonest. Today, she would need to feel stupid because she didn't discuss the terms with him.

In the dating environment from 20 years ago it was also considered entirely normal for women to be naive and even a bit stupid. People knew that such an attitude could pay off. There was even a stereotype for that, called the bimbo. The bimbo only cared for her looks. And she was pleasant. That way, she hoped to be taken good care of. 

Where have all the bimbos gone now? The bimbo look has gone so mainstream that the word became obsolete. Fake nails, thick layers of make-up, hair extensions and platinum bleached hair was considered conspicuously superficial two decades ago. Now it is normal. But the credulous personality that was supposed to follow that look is completely out of fashion. Feminism did not only give ordinary women the right to stand up for themselves. It obliges them to. Because no one is doing it for them.

Being unpleasant is probably not the best strategy for a young woman to signal that she stands up for her own value. Thinking hard about what she is looking for and searching out where to find that sounds like a more sympathetic strategy. 

Needless to say, all people are not good at thinking hard. Especially not around emotionally charged issues like romantic love and sex. In a situation where people are asking for too much, unpleasantness is the instinctual reaction. And when the elaborate cultural conventions for how to build relationships have been abandoned, instinct kicks in. 

When one group wants more than another group wants to give, someone needs to be unpleasant. In civilizations, society tends to take on more and more of that role: It collects taxes so local strongmen won't have to. It removes criminals from the scene so ordinary people don't have to lynch them. And, for long times, it also upheld norms for how expensive sex should be, so ordinary women did not have to signal how awfully expensive they were. 

Those of us who ask for a more pleasant society should be careful what we wish for. Many times, we only get more unpleasant individuals instead. 

[sky-fire-forever]

Happy friday! For any members of Kirkwall Polycule, “If we don’t make it out alive, I’ll see you at the Maker’s side.” “Bold of you to assume you’re going there.” (from the DA inspired dialog)

Thank you for this prompt! This one focuses a little more on Hawke/Isabela than the rest, but I tried to include moments with the whole polycule. For @dadrunkwriting

My Hawke in this one is Angel Hawke, who uses she/her pronouns.

“You’re kidding, right?” Isabela grabs Hawke’s arm and holds on tight. “You’re not seriously going to duel the Arishok for me.”

Hawke turns to her and gives her that winning smile that always seems to get her out of any situation she finds herself in. “Of course I am,” she says easily. “And I’m going to win.” 

Isabela can’t believe what she’s hearing. When she’d returned with the Tome, she hadn’t expected Hawke to get as caught up in her mess. That was the whole point of her coming back, for the Maker’s sake! To protect people! To protect Hawke and company specifically! Now Hawke is about to throw her life away for her, which just ruins everything. 

“Relax, Bela.” Hawke takes her hands in her own and presses kisses to her knuckles. “I’ll be fine. I always am.” 

Now would be the time for Isabela to say something witty and clever and charming. Something that would dissipate the tension in air and that would make Hawke laugh. 

Instead, she kisses her desperately and clings to her hand even after she pulls away. “If you don’t make it out alive, I’ll–” I’ll never forgive you is what she wants to say, but it feels too vulnerable to say it. “I’ll–”

“We’ll see you at the Maker’s side,” Sebastian cuts in.

Hawke snorts, a beautiful thing. “Bold of you to assume any of us are going there,” she says with a good-natured grin. “But don’t worry, I won’t die.” 

“That’s what they always say,” Varric says.

Hawke rolls her eyes. “If you keep talking like I’m going to die, I might just do it,” she says playfully before kissing Isabela’s knuckles again. “Don’t worry so much. When have I ever not been fine?” 

At odds with her words, she goes around to say goodbye to each of her companions in turn. She warns Anders from using any healing magic, even if he thinks he can be subtle enough that it won’t be noticed. 

“This is my battle to fight and I’ll win fair and square. I don’t need to risk cheating this time.” 

Isabela can’t help thinking that this isn’t Hawke’s battle at all and that she shouldn’t be the one fighting it. 

Anders grips Hawke’s hand tightly. “I love you,” he says desperately, like it might be his last chance to say it — for all he knows, it could be. 

“I love you too, you dork.” Hawke kisses him on the nose before pulling away to speak to Fenris. 

“He will be strong,” Fenris warns. “You must not lower your guard for even a moment.”

Hawke rolls her eyes. “I know, I know. Relax.” She wraps her arms around him. “Just hug me.” 

And he does, pulling her close to him and burying his face in her neck for a short time. Isabela gets the sense that he’s memorizing her. Despite their ill-times breakup not long ago, Fenris needs this. 

Merrill looks like she’s going to burst into tears at any moment. “Please don’t die,” she says when Hawke approaches her. 

“Don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” Hawke assures her. 

“Oh. Well, most people don’t plan on dying.” Merrill wrings her hands. “But it’s good that you’re fighting. It’s the right thing to do. For Bela.” 

Hawke smiles. “Thanks, Merrill.” She pulls her in and kisses her sweetly. “Wish me luck out there.” 

“Good luck.” 

Hawke turns to Varric, who puts his hands up. 

“I’m not one for tearful goodbyes, Giggles,” he says. “Just go in there and kick his ass.” 

Hawke laughs and salutes him. “Will do, my trusty dwarf.” 

Sebastian presses a kiss to the back of Hawke’s hand. “Good luck,” he says earnestly. 

Hawke smiles fondly at him before withdrawing from everyone. “Alright, enough emotions. I’ve got this.” She blows them all a kiss before stepping into the ring. 

Isabela watches on, terrified. She’s relieved when Fenris takes her hand. 

[barbex]

Heyo and happy Friday! 😊 For DADWC, might I request #6 from the We're A Throuple! Prompt list, for Fenris/Anders/author's choice? (maybe Merrill? Or anyone really! I'm not picky lol)

Oh, this was a fun prompt, thank you! For @dadrunkwriting, poly fic with Merrill x Fenris x Anders.

I still don't know how to write short ficlets, there's like worldbuilding in this, 1200 words. 😊😊

---

“It’s going to be a great party, we should wear matching dresses,” Merrill says, her arms linked with both of them. “At least colour coordinated. I wear that green dress with the long green blouse, and you,” she looks at Anders, “don’t you have a similar blouse or coat like that?”

“Yes, I do, I’d just need some matching trousers.” He looks past Fenris, wondering if he ever saw him in anything other than black. “Do you have anything in green?”

“No.” 

His face darkens with a frown and Anders knows him well enough to see that this is something they will talk about at home, where Fenris feels safe. Merrill throws him a look, seeing the same thing. They keep walking, Merrill relaying a story the flower girls told her about a family in their street, a delicious piece of gossip Anders loves to hear. Fenris stays silent, but he still holds on to Merrill’s hand and his frown has smoothed out. 

This is alright.

Anders opens the door to their small town house, a lovely place in need of constant repairs, filled with flowerpots, colourful art and sculptures. Colours and chaos everywhere, and they all love it. Even Fenris, who does like things to be more orderly than Merrill and Anders, usually only complains about half empty tea cups with mould growing on them. As long as they don’t touch his paints and don’t move his easel, he enjoys being in the chaos with them. 

With their shopping put away, Merrill looks at Anders, asking without words, and he nods. 

“Alright, Fenris,” Merrill says cheerfully, “let’s see if we can find anything matching in your closet.” She takes his hand and pulls him up the stairs with her. He follows with little resistance, but Anders watches him carefully as he follows them. There are certain things Fenris is less open about, and his personal room and things are part of his careful boundaries. 

But Merrill has a keen sense for how much she can push Fenris out of his comfort zone, smiling at him as they step into his room. “Well, let’s see what you have.”

Fenris opens the doors to the wardrobe and steps aside. “Nothing green, as I said.”

There are a few shelves and a bar for hanging things and everything, every single piece of fabric is black. 

“No wonder I have never seen you in anything but your black leather trousers,” Merrill says.

“I like what I like,” Fenris says.

Anders steps closer to him, brushing his nose against his ear. “And they look amazing on you.”

Merrill smiles at Fenris’ blush, kneading her lips as she’s thinking. “If we want to make things different for this party, maybe you should wear my dresses?” 

“Would any of yours even fit?” Anders looks from Merrill to himself. It’s not that he’s fat, but compared to Merrill, even Fenris looks too large.

“I have wraparounds, they’ll work.” She bounces off to her room, and Anders and Fenris follow. 

“Are you alright with wearing a dress?” Anders asks him. 

Fenris looks up at him with a small smile. “I reserve the right to refuse if I look ridiculous.”

“Fair enough. Although, I can’t imagine anything not looking good on you.” He slides his hand over Fenris’ back, gently, giving him the option to step away from it. But he doesn’t, leaning closer instead. This is a win in their careful relationship. 

Boundaries. Finding the boundaries for all three of them and respecting them is what makes them work. 

Chaos reigns in Merrill’s room, of course. She’s already spread half of the contents of her wardrobe around the room, picking through flowing fabrics in various shades of green. It’s her favourite colour, obviously.

“Here, Anders, this will fit you,” she says, holding out a large swath of fabric. “And this one is for you, Fenris.” She steps closer to him with a green dress. “May I help you put it on?”

Fenris lowers his head, brushing his nose over her temple. “Yes.” 

Anders takes off his shirt and trousers to wrap the fabric around himself, but he forgets about it when Fenris undresses and Merrill begins to arrange the dress around his nearly naked body. Merrill also wears hardly anything, and watching them both is like watching beauty personified. 

Merrill wraps the fabric around Fenris’ waist and suddenly it looks like a proper dress. She steps back to look at her creation, picking at a seam and a fold here and there. “You look so pretty, vhenan.”

Taking her hand, Fenris pulls her close, kissing her. “Thank you, amata.” He brushes through her hair and presses a kiss on her forehead. “We may have to do something about Anders.”

Merrill turns her head with a giggle. “He’s staring. I think we broke him.”

Anders lets the fabric slip over his arm. “My loves, I need a little help.”

Merrill bounces over to him, taking the dress and begins to drape it over his body. Of course, Fenris has already figured out how all this drapery works, and helps Merrill. Occasionally he slides his hand under the fabric and caresses Anders’ skin, while Merrill presses very close to him. It’s enough to drive a person out of their mind.

“My loves...” Anders groans. Fenris kisses his neck, he must be standing on his tiptoes. And Anders just wants to melt. 

“I have an idea,” Merrill says, skipping out of the door. “I’ll be right back.”

With a breath, Anders turns, pulling Fenris into his arms. The green fabric looks amazing on him and it’s so soft under his hands. He bends to kiss Fenris’ neck. “Do you like the dress?”

“It’s surprisingly comfortable,” Fenris says, his voice quite more breathy than usually. His hips press against Anders’, thin and soft fabric all that is between them. “I may have to rip this dress off your body soon,” Fenris growls.

That deep growl does terrible things to Anders’ self control. He slides his hands between the folds of the dress, probably ruining the whole arrangement. 

“I think that should wait, my vhenans,” comes Merrill’s voice from the door. She sounds quite different and when Anders turns to look at her, his knees go weak.

Merrill wears one of Fenris’ black leather trousers, a black leather west, and even slim boots with heels. The only green on her is a cape swinging over her back. “I thought if you wear my clothes, I could wear your clothes.”

“Fuck, you look so hot.” Anders takes two steps to her and goes down on one knee. “You are a goddess.”

Appearing at his side, Fenris doesn’t go down on his knee, but the admiration is clear on his face. He puts a hand on Anders’ shoulder. “And we are your devoted worshippers.” 

“Really?” Merrill giggles, but then her eyes sparkle. “I think I like that.” She steps closer, appearing more confident with every step. “I’m not putting a leash on my worshippers,” she glances at Fenris and winks. “But I would love it if my worshippers stayed close to me.”

“We will,” Anders hurries to say, warm excitement flooding his body.

Fenris bows to take Merrill’s hand and presses a kiss on the back of it. “Anything you want, amata.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Merrill calls out.

Anders looks at Fenris, seeing him smile. Yes, it will be a fun evening, and much more.

[storybookhawke]

Canon-ish AU where Hawke is a vampire (sexy handers edition)

Hawke, a vampire but not a mage, doesn’t approach Anders for maps before Anders sets off to the chantry to rescue Karl. Instead, Hawke tracks the elusive warden down just as he starts fighting the waves of templars. He intervenes just in time, but Anders is gravely injured so he bites him to start the turning process to save his life (since lbr even with justice he wasn’t winning that fight against all those templars).

Anders wakes up in the early morning back at the clinic, with a strange man staring him down from across the room. The man introduces himself simply as Hawke, and explains that he rescued him from the templars who almost certainly would have killed him. Anders asks about the other man there, the tranquil man, and Hawke says it was too late to save him. He was only able to save Anders. It's devastating news to Anders, though in the back of his mind he knew he wasn't going to win, but at least he would have died beside Karl.

Now intertwined by fate, Anders learns exactly how Hawke saved him. He could have sworn he was on death's door! Hawke explains more of what it's like to be a vampire. Sunlight directly touching him will severely burn him, even killing them with prolonged exposure. But the clinic is in Darktown, and most of his life can still be conducted at night. Not to mention, Hawke has invited him on a trip to the Deep Roads, where sunlight never touches so their entire trip would be safe. He owes it to Hawke for saving his life, and he'll hopefully get some funds out of it too.

As vampires, they must drink blood. Hawke finds willing people easily in Kirkwall, but sometimes it's from unwilling victims too. He explains that some people will sell or trade their blood to him, but drinking too much too often will kill his sources. Vampire venom has a aphrodisiac effect on others, so they're so consumed by lust that they don't even notice they're being drained. The unwilling are at least consenting to the rest of it and have a good time. Hawke finds his meals where he can--though the older the vampire, the less they need to drink.

Anders doesn't love the idea of hurting innocents as a healer, so Hawke offers to look around for more people who would willingly sell him their blood. But in the meantime, Hawke says Anders can drink from him directly. Vampires drinking from other vampires doesn't taste as good nor satisfy as long, but it works. As previously warned, Hawke gets the aphrodisiac effect from Anders--flushed red, chest heaving, hard beneath the belt. Their eyes connect, and Anders feels it too, like it's contagious. He offers to help Hawke finish with his mouth, it's only polite, not that it's any chore since Anders finds him super attractive.

Now being available during the same hours, Anders accompanies Hawke about on his business. He learns that Hawke is over a hundred years old, lived all across Ferelden but most recently in Lothering, and escaped the Blight just as many others have. Anders learns about vampire culture, which of course varies depending on the region that the vampire is from, and how vampires don't tend to turn many because of territorial issues. Too many vampires gallivanting around Thedas would eventually spiral out of control, especially with the blood ecosystem, so the remaining vampires tend to only turn their lovers if necessary.

[queenofbaws]

29 specifically for anders & hawke pwease

It never got any easier, the sight of Hawke slumped over in his clinic - one might've thought it would, but no, his heart sank every time as if it were the first.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked, taking every little detail in as quickly as he could: the ashen color of her skin, the bruising along her knuckles, the spatter of blood across her front that, quite frankly, could've been hers but probably wasn't.

She had a real knack for making a wince look like a smile, Hawke did. Grimaces, too. "Why hello Anders, my good chum. Yes, as it turns out I am in a bit of a sorry state today, but I'm so glad neither of us has lost our love of polite smalltalk. Tell me, how are the cats?"

"Hawke."

"Where am I hurt, where am I hurt..." She repeated, and as she slouched further in her chair, the wince began to win out. "A complicated question, that."

As far as days in the clinic went, today was relatively slow; that, however, wasn't his concern. Maybe she didn't have a visible hole in her gut or a strip of burnt flesh to guide his eye, but the rambling was its own symptom, the joking its own telltale sign. He folded his arms and waited, hoping they had time to wait.

"I suppose I've been feeling a bit homesick, lately. That's its own sort of agony, wouldn't you say?"

He took a breath to steady his nerves, letting her purge it from her system.

"And I've been having the strangest twinge in my shoulders at night. Terribly annoying."

Oh, what he would've given to have any of the others there, if only to hold her down and cover her mouth. Not that it would've stopped this, of course, but experience had taught him it would slow her down enough for him to at least begin healing her.

"Sometimes, when I bend over too quickly, my head goes terribly spinny, and - "

"Tell me where you're hurt," he interrupted, caught (as he so often was) between abject exasperation and the maddening urge to laugh, "and be specific."

She made a grand show of widening her eyes and pressing a hand to her chest. "Why serah! You should've said that from the start! Here I am, prattling on like some sort of loon." Then, clearly proud of herself despite the pain she must've been in, she brought her other hand out from behind her back, offering it to him. "I do think these are broken," she said of her fingers, three of which were knocked into angles he'd never seen before. "But I was hoping for a more professional opinion."

It never got any easier, seeing Hawke in his clinic, but Maker's breath, it never got old.

[crossingbaranduin]

Guessing Games

(Teen | The Almighty Johnsons | Anders & Mike | 1.4k words)

Summary: Axl found out that saying “guess what” will lead to Mike knowing the “what” in question, since it was a game. Naturally, Anders figured out how to exploit that. (Or, five times Anders made Mike “guess what”, and one time he couldn’t but asked anyway.)

Notes: A quick, fun work spawned by a Discord message from @blairsanne: “I need someone to write a 5&1 where Anders annoys the shit out of Mike and then uses that Guess What game for a good purpose”. I’ll never turn down writing about my two favorites, so… here it is! Enjoy! : )

Read on AO3 here!

----------

As with many things in their family, it all started with someone being just a bit too curious. This time, it was Anders — about Mike's powers in particular.

“There’s no way you can know what I’m thinking if I say ‘guess what’. That’s bullshit!”

“One, no it’s not. Two, how did you even find out about that?”

“Axl told me. You’re god of games, not god of being psychic!”

“It’s a game where to win, I have to know what you’re thinking. It’s not that hard, Anders.”

“Fine,” Anders rolled his eyes. “Guess what?"

A thought that was definitively not his own filled his mind. Ty and I were the ones who broke the window crank on your old truck. Ty tried to crank the window closed on me.

Mike stopped, all thoughts of proving his point abandoned at Anders’ admission. "That was you?!"

"Holy shit, it does work," Anders said, astonished.

"Yes, it does, but my window crank doesn't!"

"It didn’t; that truck is long gone now, anyways." Anders grin only grew as he continued. "Oh, I'm so going to abuse this."

And with that, Mike realized just how critical of a mistake he had made in mentioning this ability to Anders.

"...Goddamnit."

----------

It wouldn't be Anders if he didn't immediately test the limits of something.

Unfortunately, knowing that did nothing to stop it, as Mike found out not long after Anders' original discovery. The bar was empty, and oddly quiet for once, as the two of them waited for the rest of the gods to arrive.

Or, it was, until Anders spoke up out of the blue. “Guess what?”

What if—

…

…Mike refused to repeat the rest of what Anders was thinking, even within the confines of his own head. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what of that was Anders’ own fucked-up ingenuity and what was Bragi’s gift with words used for horrible purposes.

It was a vivid mental image, that was for sure, and one he'd like to never have again.

He didn't dare turn around, his jaw clenched as he nearly glared a hole into the shelves in front of him. “Anders?”

Mike didn't have to look at Anders to hear the shit-eating grin he was wearing. “Yes?”

“You have three seconds to start running.”

If the other gods walked in a few minutes later to a couple barstools knocked over and the two of them tussling on the floor… no one really needed an explanation.

(Or wanted one. No one wanted to get in the middle of that — or find out what they had done to start it.)

----------

Of course, even that didn't stop Anders' plan, as he tried once more — this time from Mike's couch upstairs, rather than at the bar.

“Guess what?”

Mike responded without missing a beat. “No, I’m not playing this game, Anders.”

And he really wasn’t intending to. Nothing said he had to agree to play, and guessing games took two participants to work.

The unfortunate thing was, as much as his mortal half didn't want to give Anders the satisfaction... resisting the will of his godly half was another story. From the insistent nudging at the back of his mind, he figured he could get a headache from Ullr, or a headache from Anders.

The choice was easier than it should have been, really.

Bracing himself for the impending disaster, he huffed. “Goddamnit.”

I was wondering how long this thing would last since you just have to guess what I’m thinking but that doesn’t have a limit on how long that guess is going to be—

It turned out that if Anders didn’t need to breathe, he really could talk forever. Mike would be impressed, if he had any room to think over the constant stream of sound now in his mind.

—so if it’s all one thing to guess I just have to not take a break and keep talking blah blah blah—

"Will you shut up?!"

—absolutely not I'm nowhere near done Mikkel did you really think I'd stop talking this quickly you've known me too long for that—

"Oh my god, stop—"

—that won't stop me I can keep thinking even if you try and interrupt me haha I can go on forever—

With a groan, Mike blindly reached for the whiskey bottle across the table. He thought he'd been done with Anders tiring himself out by talking decades ago.

("God, my head fucking hurts," Anders muttered a good bit of time later, rubbing his temples.

Mike, who was doing the same with one hand and a glass in the other, leveled Anders with a blank stare. "I feel absolutely no sympathy for you.")

----------

Mike had — rather mistakenly — assumed it would be a quiet night in for him. That is, until a seemingly innocuous text flashed across his phone screen.

> Guess what?

"Great." He'd never had someone try it over text, but if that curious tingle in the back of his brain said anything, Anders had figured out yet another way to exploit it. He opened the messaging app, ready to chastise Anders for abusing his power yet again, when—

Ty and I are headed your way; situation happened with Loki. We'll explain when we get there.

Mike's heart dropped. Loki never meant good news, and if Anders was willing to admit that himself—

> Guess what?

We're fine. Loki just crossed some lines he shouldn't have. It's taken care of.

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding suddenly escaped him. They were alright — somehow, if Loki was involved yet again. He could bitch them out about it once they got to the bar. They weren't burnt to a crisp, or spontaneously combusted, or smited, so he could still chew them out.

(It was a horrible, relieving thought.)

Sitting down less steadily than he'd ever admit, he closed his eyes, breathing out as he let Ullr wash over him.

He could feel them approaching the bar — they were nearby. And still alive. He could handle the rest when they got here.

> Guess what?

Oh yeah, and Ty is Hodr again. Surprise.

...Probably.

----------

The world was ending, or damn near close to it, and by morning, none of them would be gods anymore.

It was a weird feeling. Mike had been a god for as nearly as long as he hadn’t been one, now.

Michele had stepped away for a moment, leaving Mike and Anders in an uncommon shared quiet, sitting back and observing the bustle of the casino around them.

"Guess what?"

Mike turned his head at Anders' sudden question, barely murmured above the background din of the room. He prepared himself for some quip, but instead—

It was the first time Mike had gotten more of a feeling that a coherent thought, and it was nearly overwhelming. A combination of thankful-relieved-peaceful-happy washed over him, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

(For a split second, it was as if a much younger Anders was superimposed over the one sitting in front of him, smiling and carefree before everything had gone to hell.)

He couldn’t send the feeling back, not in the same way, but he hoped his own smile and the light knocking of their shoulders together got the point across.

(He thought it did, from the way Anders leaned ever so slightly into him, even as Michele returned.

And of everything he was going to miss come the next morning, that would certainly be one of them.)

----------

"Guess what?"

Mike didn't have to answer Anders. He really didn't, this time; there was no pull from the now-gone Ullr, and even if he did, it wasn't as if it'd work the same way.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep from the night before, or maybe it was simply not giving a fuck in comparison to all the shit they'd been through recently. (Or maybe he knew he'd miss it if he didn't.)

Regardless, Mike turned around, an eyebrow raised as he finally answered Anders' question. “What, Anders?”

(“Nothing!”

“What?”

“Nothing! That was it.”

“You can’t just ask me what and then say nothing!”

“I sure can if it bothers you that much—“

Anders’ bright laughter was audible even over his own groaning into his hands, and if he cracked a smile of his own— well, no one would ever know. They couldn’t guess it, after all.)

[bluerose5]

not me seeing you taking fenhanders prompts and RUNNING to your inbox, but:

something (mild and will not kill them) happens to Fenris and Anders and Hawke has to take care of them for a little while 🥹

I had fun with this one. Hope you like how it turned out. 🥰💙

~~~

The one bad thing about people who take care of others is that, oftentimes, they end up forgetting to take care of themselves in the process.

Which is exactly how Anders ended up sick, his immune system in tatters while being exposed to one too many different diseases.

In all honesty, Garrett was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner; but given their close proximity to one another, it was a miracle that Garrett didn't fall ill as well.

Fenris, on the other hand, wasn't as lucky.

For two people who had so much yet also so little in common, they certainly reacted to being sick in different ways.

While Anders was more vocal in voicing his displeasure, Fenris took a much more reserved approach. He preferred to remain bundled up in blankets, grumbling to himself until he got too warm, thus forced to shed some layers as he trudged around his mansion like a ghost in the shadows. He refused to ask anyone else for help, not wanting to be a bother, even if he was anything but.

Anders, by contrast, didn’t bother to try and make himself appear smaller than he was. Rather, he made his presence known at every available opportunity, especially when he learned that doing so often meant gaining Hawke’s attention, no matter how briefly.

For once, he was the one being cared for, and that awakened a part of him that reveled in being spoiled and loved.

Of course, put the couple in the same room, and they were sure to butt heads as they usually did.

“I despise you,” Fenris deadpanned, both of them sprawled out on Fenris’ bed together, settled atop the sheets as yet another wave of heat surged through them.

Anders sniffled, petulant, and glared at him through puffy, red eyes.

“So you keep saying, but you must keep me around for s–some—Achoo!” He was abruptly cut off by a tickle in his nose, which instantly transitioned into a sneeze that radiated painfully throughout his chest. Anders grimaced, then groaned. “Ugh, reason.”

Face scrunched up in disgust, Fenris glowered, wrinkling his nose in Anders’ direction.

“Can you at least attempt to cover your mouth, mage?”

“Of course. I shall aim to be sick with less offense.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

“Wise choice,” Anders taunted. “Holding your breath would be detrimental to your health. Good to know your common sense is still intact, at least.”

“Why, you little—”

Before Fenris could even finish the thought, he pounced.

Anders yelped as he was forced back onto the bed, struggling until they were rolling back and forth across the sheets.

Not that he ever stood a chance.

Like always, Fenris gained the upper hand all too quickly, his strength almost otherworldly.

He straddled Anders’ waist, pinning his wrists above his head, while his precious mage sulked in defeat.

Fenris smirked.

“Do you yield?” he asked, enjoying himself way too much.

Head held high, Anders huffed, “As if.”

When he squirmed against Fenris’ hold, Fen continued to sit on top of him, not once moving an inch.

For as much progress as Anders was making, he might as well have been trying to move the Viscount’s keep.

Eventually, he surrendered.

“Oh, fine, you win,” Anders grunted, wiggling once more in an attempt to dislodge him. Playfully, he raised the pitch of his voice. “Mercy, serah! Mercy!”

“Hmm…” Fenris trailed off, humming in contemplation. “And what, pray tell, is to be my prize for this outstanding victory?”

“How about I don’t kick you out of the bed by the end of the day?” Anders offered.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have said that, considering the position he was in.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just for that—” Without warning, Fen leaned in and nuzzled his face into the crook of Anders’ neck, which wouldn’t have been that bad in theory, had it not been for one teeny-tiny detail.

Anders gagged at the feeling of Fenris’ sweat-soaked hair brushing against his skin.

“You ass!”

As soon as Fenris released his wrists, Anders shoved him off, scrubbing the sheets along his throat to rid his already-clammy skin of the extra layer of sweat.

Fenris collapsed onto the bed, winded.

At first, he trembled. His shoulders shook, but he ultimately remained silent.

Then, the first snort broke free, soon followed by another. Before Anders could comprehend what was going on, Fenris was overwhelmed by a fit of laughter. It wasn't his usual soft, reserved chuckles but full-blown, unadulterated laughter.

Soon enough, he was clutching at his side with the beginning of tears building in his eyes.

Anders watched, transfixed yet bewildered.

Seeing Fenris react in such a way was a rarity, an opportunity that Anders knew not to waste. Fenris —like Anders those days— so seldom smiled, not that there was much to smile about in Kirkwall to begin with, so such a genuine reaction was to be savored, a treasured gift to hold close to their chests.

Anders committed every detail to memory, but he wasn't the only one.

"Ahem." At the sound of Hawke clearing his throat, they jolted. Garrett spared them a knowing glance, his lips quirked up into a smirk. "Should I have brought snacks? I leave you two alone for five minutes, and I return to fighting and giggling."

Fenris rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a fond smile.

Garrett fully entered the room then, a large tray in hand. As he went to set it down onto one of the bedside tables, steam billowed up from the bowls and cups he brought along.

The warm, fragrant aroma of homemade stew mingled with the sharp, cool scent of freshly-made tea.

“Here,” Garrett said, passing them the cups first. “Malcolm Hawke’s signature elfroot tea.” When Anders wrinkled his nose, more fond of coffee than tea, Garrett shot him a pointed look. “Drink up, you. It’ll help you feel better, and it’ll give your mana a much-needed boost.”

Grumbling, Anders took a small sip. His face instantly crumpled, feigning a gag.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Garrett sighed.

“Or maybe Anders is just a big baby,” Fenris said.

Anders opened his mouth to fire back at him, but was abruptly caught off guard.

As if to emphasize his words, Fenris had picked up his cup, cradling it as he met Anders' eyes.

Not once did he look away, downing it all in one go.

Anders gaped, slack-jawed, while Garrett tsked at them in a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Without missing a beat, Garrett swapped Fenris' cup for a bowl of stew, dropping a kiss upon his temple before giving Anders one as well.

"Madmen," he joked, "both of you."

Straightening up around the room, he soon threw open the windows, allowing a gentle breeze to flow freely inside.

“Still too warm?” Garrett asked.

“Only a little,” Anders said, pinching his fingers together.

“I’ll fix that.”

Summoning his magic to his fingertips, Fenris watched while Garrett wove his spell. He formed a sigil in the air, his lips barely parting to form the words of the incantation.

Then, once the sigil was complete, its bright blue glow lingering in the air, Garrett leaned in and blew into the light. It dissipated like sand caught up in a storm. 

In seconds, his magic blanketed the room.

The temperature dropped a perfect amount. Not too cold to be freezing, but cool enough for Anders and Fenris to pick up on the difference.

They groaned in unison, grateful for the relief.

“You spoil us,” Anders purred, his eyes trained on Hawke, leaning his head upon Fenris’ shoulder.

Fenris snorted. “Coddle us, more like.”

“As if you don’t enjoy it,” Garrett chuckled, to which Fenris remained suspiciously silent in response.

After they polished off the stew and tea, Garrett took their dishes and set them aside onto the tray.

Listening to Garrett hum a gentle tune under his breath, Fenris and Anders stared after him, captivated by his very presence.

"You know…” Fenris turned his head aside to cough into the crook of his arm, then cleared his throat. “For someone who swears that he can’t cast a simple healing spell, you really are good at this.” He waved his hand around. “At taking care of others, I mean.”

“Heh.” Flattered, Garrett smiled to himself. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

In place of the cups and bowls, Garrett returned to bed with a book tucked under his arm, his hands juggling quills, inkwells, and stationery alike.

“After Father died, I often looked after Bethany and Carver.” He shrugged. “Mother did her best, don’t get me wrong, but it was all too obvious at times that she was born and raised a noble. I was more familiar with how to prepare Father’s potions and remedies, so I did my best with what we had.”

For the first time in a long while, he was able to look back on those memories without so much pain and heartache.

He settled on the bed with the two men he loved, acutely aware of their eyes trained on him.

Garrett spread the supplies out around them, flashing a grin at Fenris.

“Feel up to some reading and writing?” he asked.

Fenris perked up at the offer, shuffling forward to appraise the assortment that Garrett brought.

“Of course.” Then, he added, “So long as Anders isn’t the one teaching me how to spell again.”

“Hmph, and what is that supposed to mean?” Anders huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Have you actually read your manifesto?” Fenris questioned.

“It’s the first draft!” 

“So you keep saying.”

While they continued to bicker, Garrett listened, completely enamored.

He was simply grateful for every second he got to spend with them.

And if he did end up catching their cold, then at least he could say with confidence that it was worth it.

[pinkfadespirit]

Sunday Work In Progress

Thanks for the tag @aria-i-adagio! Here’s something from the second chapter of my new Handers fic, Strange Fear, in which Anders is trying to find a date to Aveline’s wedding in order to win a bet and so far it isn’t going well.

"Don't let it knock your confidence," Hawke insisted. When Anders didn't answer again, he added, "Or if you decide you'd rather leave it, that's fine too. You don't have to push yourself into this for the sake of a stupid bet."

Anders sighed. "It was pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

"You know you didn't have to agree to it…"

"I know."

"Then why?"

"I just didn't want to give Isabela the satisfaction of thinking she was right."

And now there was no doubt that same pride would be what kept him from backing out of it.

“Okay but… do you even want to do this? I mean, I haven’t seen you with someone the whole time I’ve known you. I always thought you weren’t interested in all that. Because of Justice.”

“It was never a lack of interest,” Anders said softly, without looking at him. Hawke hadn’t been sure if it was a good idea to bring that up but Anders didn't seem to be annoyed by it. “I just didn’t know if I could. With what I am… what if I lost control and hurt someone?” He stared down at the cat in his lap and his expression was sad. “But it’s been years. Maybe it’s about time I made a change.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise him to hear that. Anders had been in a bad way after Karl died but it had been a long time since then. It could have been enough time to heal, Hawke supposed. It didn’t make him worry any less though.

“I’m not sure if that answers my question.”

Anders shrugged. “I’m not sure what the answer is.”

tagging: @anderstrevelyan @hollyand-writes @fandomn00blr @johaerys-writes @sweetmage @faedintoyou and anyone else who reads this and wants to share something they’ve been working on. No pressure if you’d rather not, of course!

[thiefbird]

Hey hey! Hope you're having a great night! How about an Anders x Anyone prompt? “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Hope the muse is helpful tonight!

I am, it's good to be back!

Have a cheeky Nanders for your @dadrunkwriting tonight, my friend! With a side of established Sigrun/Velanna

Maker, but they made a pretty picture together, wresting in the dusty training ring. Anders wasn't the only one to have noticed, either; everyone from the scullery maids to Sigrun to even Justice were watching as Cousland and the Howe duked it out.

He did have to assume the Spirit had less... earthly reasons for his interest, though.

The two men separated, panting and grinning, wild-eyed, at each other. Anders made eye contact with Sigrun, cuddled up against Velanna across the ring from where he leaned against a post. The little elf, of course, scowled at him, but he'd learned not to take it personally by now. Sigrun was about the only person she didn't glower at.

His attention switched back to the sparring men, who appeared to now be taking a break for water and discussing tactics. He pushed himself fully upright and hopped the fence, triggering a wolf-whistle from Sigrun.

"Hey, Howe," he called, adding a little wave to catch the older man's attention. He'd been flirting with more intention recently, not just his usual, low-level constant, and Nathaniel had undoubtedly been reciprocating his attentions.

Nathaniel turned at his name, eyebrows raised in question. "Yes, mage? We were about to start again; did you need the Commander?"

Oh, Maker, he was hot. Stripped down to nothing but a pair of sinfully tight, dark leather breeches, skin shining with sweat, he looked good enough to eat. "Oh, no, just thought I'd come wish my favourite archer luck, " he replied, swaying his hips dramatically as he stepped closer.

Nathaniel's lips pursed, but his eyes glittered with amusement. "I am, in fact, the only archer among us Wardens, so that ranking hardly says much about our friendship, now, does it, healer?"

"Oh, but even with another, they'd be hard-pressed to win my favor, " he tossed back with a cheeky wink. "No, your place in my affections is sealed, Howe. Best resign yourself to it!"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but chuckled despite himself. "If you are not here to spar, step back, healer. You are a distraction." He gripped Anders' shoulder with one hand, and his waist with the other, spinning him in an easy motion and sending him back to the stands with a gentle shove.

Anders felt his cheeks flush at the manhandling, mind immediately dropping into the gutter, as he stumbled back over to the other Wardens. Sigrun beamed at him, laughing at his flustered expression, and she tugged him to sit between her and Justice.

"Creators, shem, but you are embarrassing. Either bed the man or move on," Velanna complained. "I am tired of watching you two."

"Some of us wish to be wooed, and I am one of them," he responded haughtily. "Excuse me for having standards."

"You fall into bed with a new maid or soldier weekly," Velanna scoffed.

"Not recently." He'd given up his more casual trysts the moment Nathaniel had shown the slightest hint of interest. He still flirted, of course, he wasn't dead, but he hadn't acted on it in weeks.

"Hmmmph," was all Velanna deigned to reply with.

Sigrun elbowed her. "I think it's sweet,Lannan. Our Anders is in love!"

Anders flinched away, completely involuntarily, only playing it up after the fact to disguise the truth of the reaction; he threw himself into the dirt in pretend horror. "Don't slander my guys name like that, Sigrun! I simply realized the second most attractive man in the Vigil was interested in me, and am acting accordingly."

"Let me guess: the most attractive man being you?" Velanna sneered, and Anders winked at her.

"But of course, my lady."

"You're wrong on both counts," Sigrun corrected, as he knew she would; they'd had this argument countless times now. "Aedan is much more attractive than Nathaniel. Or you, sorry sweetie."

Grateful for the change of subject, he let his attention drift back to his Commander and Nathaniel. "You just like beards, Sugrun," he said distractedly.

He hopped up again the moment they called it a draw, trying his best to look casual as he once again approached the shorter man. "Maker, Nate, you don't know what you do to me, do you?" he asked once he got close went for a veneer of privacy.

Nathaniel, already flushed from exertion, turned a deeper shade of red at Anders' words. "I certainly have an idea, with the way you look at me, healer," he muttered, wiping his face dry on a scrap of linen.

"And how do I look at you?"

"The way I look at you. Only I have the sense to wait till the whole Vigil isn't staring."

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

hello everyone !!! as tumblr decided to send me to the shadow real for a month and i do have a tendency to overshere on here, i thought it would be fun to go through my last month to update my lore (the key things are that i now have no bedroom and i am obsessed with ana mena) through my tweets (i was forced to use that website more i'm afraid). and of course, i will translate everything so don't worry :)

hope you like it!!! this is probably gonna be long so i'll add everything under the cut:

we start at day 1 a.T. (after tumblr) which was a very important day actually (pokémon day for those who don't know)

they deactivated my tumblr account for no reason?

2. without tumblr, that day i was forced to go to twitch and see ibai's stream announcing the participants of la velada 3 (unfortunately this won't be my last twitch moment here i'm so sorry)

from left to right and top to bottom:

WHAT IS GOING ON (qrt to: this fight is gonna be legendary. amouranth vs mayichii)

they should kiss (this is about viruzz vs shelao, it is funnier with context sorry)

it's now a reality. this is gonna be insane @/fernanfloo

i think rivers will win (the second tweet it's for context: the second fight of la velada del año 3 is rivers vs la rivers)

3. spoiler alert: i was struggling with uni stuff (and especially administrative uni stuff) all month <3

(it is impossible to translate this tweet literally so bear with me)

it's unbelievable how much the people in the university of wales don't give a fuck

here's the fun little context for this one: i should've started my semester on february 1st. i had received no notice of enrolling in it, there was no way to do it on the page habilitated for it, and my master's director wasn't answering my mails concerning my dissertation proposal and supervisor or anything really. i sent the sorta student help thingie platform a mail on february 28th asking for guidance and they answered me an hour later telling me i could enroll. my master's director also emailed me telling me i had a supervisor now. lol. fun. great.

4. this will not be my only ana mena related tweet in this list i am afraid

(the quoted tweet is the singer ana mena as a little girl in a tv show and a sign that reads 'when she grows up she wants to be an archaeologist') she's made it cause the rest of the spanish musical industry is BONES besides her

5. i swear this is my last twitch moment i think. anyways. the squid games. yeah. it was very funny cause every person whose pov i decided to watch died <3

same order as before:

(the quoted tweet says 'i think i'll watch the squid games from pandarina's pov') tweets that aged up badly: [she died on the first day]

everyone whose pov i'm seeing today dies (ander and zeling) lol

oleeee susi hasn't died let's gooooo

today i won't be able to watch the squid games so i'm only saying @/suzyroxx to the final !!!! [she wasn't in the final <;3]

6. it starts *looks into the distance remembering the horrors*

FINALLY the predoctoral UCM [my uni] scholarships are here folks

and the meme says the same but more accurately <3

7. that time my 55 year old uncle out of nowhere sent me a tiktok of nochentera and told me he loved it

my uncle being a nochenterist exactly (in the pic he only says 'it's so good!!!')

8. there are so many horrors relating to that goddamn predoc scholarship that i don't even remember the context of this one &lt;3

official bulletin of the complutense university or bulletin of shit ??? [this one is funnier in spanish, it's a meme from a show]

9. i do remember this one tho. this was a fun one.

i suddenly have a new thesis director and a master's dissertation supervisor lol

context: this was the day that my master's director emailed me telling me i finally had a dissertation supervior assigned. the other part is funnier. SO. i had a thesis director chosen from when i started all this process. she was great. love you miriam mwah. anyways. she had another student doing the thesis with her (a student that is my friend). turns out, for the ucm predoc shit there could only be one thesis director per person. no fucking clue why. so we all talked it out and thought the best solution was for me to have another one, and maybe miriam could be my co-director in the future. the funny thing is, this new supervisor (cruz) was my first choice way back when i started thinking about doing the ph.d. i just chose miriam in the end cause she was my master's thesis' director. so yeah. i could've chosen cruz from the start and i wouldn't have had these many problems. but whatever.

10. MANDATORY MEMORIAS DE IDHÚN TWEET

plot twist in memorias de idhún the funky little guy is VICTORIA

(they're right btw)

11. the la casa de bernarda alba miami remake incident. this ruined my day, my week, my month and possibly my year as well. if you haven't seen this and feel strongly about federico garcía lorca please skip this one i don't want to ruin your day.

you know the drill:

i'm angry cause i can't go to tumblr and go off [literally it says 'shit on the mothers'] at everyone who thought and adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba IN MIAMI is coherent, logical and necessary.

you have to travel to 2023 to stop that aberration from happening [this one's for my emdt besties <3]

this one is already in english

the only modern adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba i will accept [this day i also realised that episode really is an adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba which made me love paquita salas even more]

lorca reading this

and this one's also in english :)

12. oh btw i rewatched druck s5 and s6 just to feel something. wasn't brave enough to watch s7 & s8 tho &lt;3

[first pic]

the machwitz sisters from druck are the best fictional sisters that exist i don't fucking care if you don't agree

and yes i cried again with them

[pic 2]

the thing about rewatching druck's s5 is that now i want to rewatch druck's s1-4 only because of kiki

literally the best minutt for minutt of all skam i could scream

[pic 3]

possibly my favourite fictional ship above... yes... percabeth

there, i said it

i am once again stanning kieutou i'm so sorry

i was gonna start season 6 tomorrow but it happened

i don't know if i should watch s7 and s8 to be able to say i've watched all druck even if i know they're shitty [spoiler: i didn't do that]

13. maybe i went through a mini-skam craze last month.

people of twitter, it is a pleasure to announce that i have included references to skam in my book [specifically that moment at the end of sana's season when everything with the girls is resolved and she sent a message to yousef to meet up but he isn't answering]

14. i thought this meme was extremely funny and made for me specifically

just in case you don't know; pic 1 is the academy of OT [Operación Triunfo], pic 2 is the geography and history building of the UCM (mini spoiler i went there later in the month), pic 3 is the school entrance in skam, and pic 4 is the pool in druck s3.

15. they interviewed my sister !!!!

here's the link (in spanish) <3

fun fact i found out about this when my mum sent it to the groupchat. my sister and i do live in the same house and speak to each other daily :) they just didn't tell me :)

16. :(

another day missing tumblr

17. i watched a ton of national selections but i only really tweeted portugal's so yeah

i'll go chronologically with these ones so it's less confusing lol

please let nasci maria win it's the only song out of all preselections that i've had stuck in my head

a pretty good top 3 tbh, any of those songs deserves to win

it should be said that i've seen a ton of preselections this year and i've only saved two songs from portugal's preselection in spotify.

well i lied. i think there's also one or two songs from sanremo. but whatever

18. i did this cool pokémon chart which made me realise my favourite pokémon type is steel actually

i've seen fola do this on stream and i wanted to do it myself :)

what do you think people do i have taste or not

here's the chart if you want to take a closer look at it!

19. this was around the time i really started to resonate with carlos peguer's tweets. i think he's the closest thing to a spanish mike's mic so we have to cherish and celebrate him i think.

i felt these tweets about amaia's music on a spiritual level. he was so right.

she really was insane for this

the moon reflects on my BITTEN NAILS [this are the opening lyrics of nuevo verano PLEASE listen to it i'm begging]

20. emdt time!!! i finished s2 but it was so hard to do it without liveblogging it on tumblr :( i tweeted a bit about it tho (but only a little!!!)

why no one told me my town's palace appears in el ministerio del tiempo [i'm kinda glad i wasn't on tumblr here cause i would've purposefully doxxed myself lol. anyways it was certainly something seeing it, especially knowing the actors were IN MY TOWN filming for DAYS and i didn't even know it. disgraceful]

i wish i could talk about the episode i'm seeing of emdt on tumblr cause it's super funny [it was the one where they have to pretend they're a normal ministerio !!!! 10/10 i had so much fun]

21. i also may or may not have gotten addicted to ck3 like a fucking nerd

the way i started playing crusader kings at nine thirty 'to spend some time until i go to bed' and suddenly it's past midnight ????

22. ⚠️the march 15 incident ⚠️ a lot happened today lol. and no, i'm not referring to the ides of march. i even forgot about them. busy day.

you can tell how i went through the whole spectrum of human emotions that day <3 anyways, i'll go in chronological order

how's your morning going people i woke up at 6:45 for a job interview but when i got to the bus stop i realized i don't have the transport chart recharged and i don't have enough money in my bank account to recharge it. lol.

in the end i managed to get to the interview and i even talked with an argentinian guy is this being a normal and sociable person

bomb the ucm

it's impossible for the spring to not be my favorite station, i'm about to cry over how nice this day is

i mean. overall it was a good day. but my memories of it get a bit tainted by the sequel (yes there is a sequel). anyways, let's go with the fun context.

so, yes i did (kinda) have a job interview that day. they haven't called me since so i guess that didn't work out. i had a 1 hour 30 mins trip on public transport to get there so that's why i woke up so early (the interview was at 9:30 i think?). i managed to get there only cause as i got back home to wait for my mum to wake up i got the notification that she had sent me 50 € to my bank account for that day. so i went out again, got to the tram station, recharged my transport card, and then got there. in the end the interview was delayed so whatever but yeah. nothing remarkable there apart from that argentinian guy i chatted with!! like a normal human!!!

anyways, after that i had to go to the ucm (told you i was gonna go there later in the month) because. you guessed it: the ucm predoc. i'm not gonna bore you with the details, but basically i had everything done and filled up, i just needed to sign and sent it to the entity. i couldn't do it online so - after calling and not receiving any answers - i printed everything, signed everything by hand and decided to deliver it in the registry office.

that's what i did, after the registry guy told me i should call the people who were in charge of all that process and calling - i shit you not - 6 different numbers until i got their approval. so that means it was done right? i've finished the process??? right???? lol. we'll come to that in the sequel <3

but yeah, the day was nice, it was super spring-y, and it's always great to go outside of the house so i liked it :)

23. i lost my mind over this tweet specifically

i don't know how to explain how important this picture is to me. like. it's identical to my favourite phrase in the whole world that appears in seneca's mede: medea superest. 'medea remains'. same idea as that sign. i'm gonna combust.

NO WAIT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. the context of 'medea superest' is that the wet nurse is telling medea that she's alone in the world and she answers with that. because despite everything, she still has herself.

despite everything, it's still you.

24. i found my favourite twitter account &lt;3

feliç dijous is 'happy thursday' in catalan btw

25. i listened to all esc 2023 songs and here's my top!!

i hit pic limit so i'll continue this in a part 2 (there's not much left i promise)

[avatar0ftheeye]

tw for swearing and descriptions of violence and gore!

words cannot describe how incredibly happy I am that???? People like??? Our campaign??? Y’all have liked it to the point where 2 more of my players are on tumblr. say hello to @alora-of-the-southernlands and @devilcupid16

Alora is Alex Ander, the singular braincell of the group and The Best Mom Friend

devil is Damien Shadow, the main source of angst and problems in the group (love u man)

without further ado, here is part 3 of Dungeons and Teenagers!

The arena is huge, the biggest building in the whole village. It is filled with gladiators slaughtering each other, all to win the hand of the finest maiden in the land.

the party begin their way into the arena, when they notice a group of gladiators walking in. They are discussing what they would do if they win the woman as their bride. Most say they would add her to their collection of wives, other say they would just use her to cook them meals.

Maisie, seeing the kind of people trying to steal its mother, scream out on rage

the gladiators mock Maisie, saying that there’s nothing it can do to stop them

enter goose

who, once again to my god damned dismay, rolls a natural 20 on intimidation (I promise they roll more than crit fails and nat 20’s)

the gladiators lean down to mock the animal they see in-front of them, but instead they see their past

their sins reveal themselves to the gladiators like a lion reveals itself to its prey

They are terrified, many run away

the one foolish one who doesn’t?

He is straight uppercutted by Maisie

enter the teenagers into the arena

down in the pit they can see Calluna in her cage. She is dressed in a tattered wedding gown, looking like she’s been in there for days. 2 female gladiators are standing over the dead bodies of former gladiators.

“they’re going to battle over her. They need 2 more kills before she reaches the ground, then she’s theirs,” Jim explains.

Thomas, in Thomas fashion, begins to cry

Jim reacts to that by slapping him

Thomas cries harder, but the party is shocked. Jim, however, is stone faced. Thomas tried to face Jim, but he replies by punching him square in the jaw

Thomas stops crying

He sees not a man infront of him, but someone who dragged him out of his home with no explanation. A man who punched him in the face for no reason. An enemy, not a friend

Thomas sucker punch’s Jim in the nose, breaking it

Jim does not react at all

Thomas is furious. He leaps into the arena, taking Alex who, by happenstance was holding his hand, into the arena with him

dear readers, you may be asking “here’s Damien? He loves violence, he should be enjoying this”

well, Damien, being a rouge, scampered off into the crowd of people watching the fight. He wandered through the crowd before someone called out to him.

“Zach?” He asked

Damien was filled with rage

Zach was his farher

“oh crap, your not zach! Sorry kid, thought you were my ex” said a Human Barbarian. He was tall, brown hair and red chain mail armor. He sat eating an unflavored ice pop, just ice on a stick

“how do you know my father?” Damien had asked

the man replied by grimacing, “let’s just say we knew eachother v e r y Well.”

“I don’t understand?”

somehow, deep inside him, Thomas began to know something. Something about the birds in the bees that his mother never told him. Something that is as old as time.

“HE BANGED YOUR DAD, DUDE!” Thomas called from the pit. The barbarian blushed and finished his ice pop quickly.

“yeah, sorry kid.”

“Wait,” Damien started, “where is my dad now?”

the man smiled at him, a soft smile. “He’s at his new partners house, The Devils Lair. Just go straight down the road out back and make a left at the 100yard mark.”

Damien was left there, not surprised by this information. Of course his dad had a thing with the devil, they didn’t call it the Devils Tango for nothing

down in the pit, a terrified Alex and a pissed off Thomas stood. They faced the two gladiators

Thomas took no time. He charged straight toward the gladiator. With no time to react, the gladiator was slammed backwards by the pure rage of teenage hormones and angst. She slammed her hair against the wall, and the cage got lowered just one more

now it was Alex’s turn. Alex had never fought someone before, ESPECIALLY not a trained gladiator.

the gladiator charged at him, ax in hand. Alex had no time to react. He was frozen in fear.

wait

he wasn’t just frozen in fear

no

alex was FROZEN in ICE

The cursed armor had given him the power to control and become ice

as a reflex, alex reached up and punched the gladiator in the head

with an Ice pick for a hand

the pick went straight through the gladiators head

and the cage was plopped onto the floor. Calluna was free

everyone jumped down into the pit to embrace Calluna in a huge hug. Calluna held them tightly, gasping that she missed them so much.

there stood Jim, alone

“Who’s he?” She quietly asked her child

“oh, that’s Jim,” replied Maisie. Calluna stopped breathing very quickly. Her teary eyes met Jim’s as he tried to hold his annoyed stature

he broke down

“oh my boy! You’ve gotten so big oh!” She held him close. Jim was no longer the tall, confident stature they saw just 5 minutes before

he was a kid, a kid who was left alone 14 years ago by a group of Adults trapped in this realm. He was left alone with no family or friends. Alone he was for 14 years

but she was back. One of the parents who cares for him while they were only there briefly.

Jim sobbed into her shoulder as they hugged.

they players walked out of the coliseum with a new found confidence. They had one parent and knew where the other one was-

“shit,” said Damien, “I forgot the directions.”

Jim fiddled with his fand’s anxiously. “Go inside and find the guy who told you. I’d like to talk to Calluna alone please”

the players, having seen his softer side, agreed. They left to go back into the coliseum

after a few minutes of searching, they finally found the man and asked him to repeat the directions (nothing really special)

on a they exited, there stood Jim.

and Jim alone he stood, once again

they players didn’t notice this

They began walking down the road toward their next destination. Jim was back to his cold, silently confident self

“mom, I- HEY!” Maisie screamed, “WHERES MY MOMMY????”

Jim stood there, trying not to break “uh, she’s somewhere.”

the party surrounded him and began screaming

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?”

“Did you kill her?”

“WHERE IS MY MOMMY?!”

Jim began to panic

“she’s somewhere, I can’t tell you!”

“DID YOU KILL HER?,!?”

“FOR GODS SAKE SHES NOT DEAD!”

Jim screamed. He releases a blood curdling scream, the scream of someone in dire pain

the party looked down at his arm

it had completely flipped inside out