#help me write a fenders fic

[justcallmecappy]

Help me write a Fenders fic (pt. 4)

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

Fenris and Anders exchange a panicked glance.

Thinking quickly, Anders grabs of Fenris' hand and they duck into the first room on the left.

He shuts the door behind them and quickly bolts the door, just as heavy footsteps stomp through the hall behind it.

"We might need to search every room," comes a muffled voice from the hallway, grumbling in annoyance. "Can't believe we have to work when we're supposed to be off duty."

There is a stern tapping at the door. "Serah? We need to search the room for a suspected apostate."

Anders frantically signals to Fenris, who already seems to know what to do.

Fenris reaches for a nearby heavy armchair and begins dragging it rhythmically across the floor, making loud squeaking noises against the polished wooden planks.

Anders -- in his most obnoxious, affected Orlesian accent -- says in a high-pitched voice, "Oh meserre! You are so beeg! Oh please, more, more, deeper, geev it to me --"

There is the awkward sound of throat-clearing from behind the door, and Anders can almost hear the redness of a blush rising to the Templar's face as he stutters, "We -- we'll come back later," followed by the sound of fading footsteps.

Anders waits with bated breath as the footsteps grow more and more distant. Then, as silence descends upon the hallway once more, he leans his forehead tiredly against the door and slides down to his knees.

He glances back at Fenris, who gives him a wide-eyed look of utter disbelief which Anders knows must be mirrored on his own face.

Then, as if on cue -- as the fog of panic dissolves into bone-aching relief, and the sheer ridiculousness of their situation descends upon them in the fading adrenaline rush -- both of them dissolve into fits of uncontrollable, silent laughter.

Fenris stifles his laughter by pressing his face into a velvet cushion, shoulders shaking; Anders bites into his lip and shudders against the wall, hugging his arms, trying his best to keep his mad giggling from rising above a whisper. The more he tries to warn with an urgent, "Shh -- shh!" the more they are driven into another bout of laughter, seemingly unable to stop.

It seems like an eternity later that they calm down enough for Anders to examine their surroundings.

They are in one of the Blooming Rose's more extravagant private rooms. The centerpiece is a four-poster bed with thick red velvet drapes, strewn generously with down-filled cushions. The room is clean and looks yet unused for the night, and unfortunately, the only exit seems to be the door they came in through -- the only window in the room is a skylight high above their heads, and there doesn't seem to be any ladders or pieces of furniture tall enough to reach it.

Anders takes a deep breath, wondering if the coast is already clear and they could try to make their escape through the hallway again. He reaches for the bolts, but then draws his hand sharply away when the sound of tromping footsteps comes from just behind it, heading down the hallway. The Templars seems to be still searching for him.

He exchanges another wordless glance with Fenris, who is now sitting on the armchair he had just dragged across the floor, looking somewhat lost and out of place.

Anders rises to his feet and sits at the edge of the bed, and they both sit in awkward silence for a while, the only sound coming from the subdued crackling of the fireplace, its light throwing the room in a rosy golden flow.

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

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have to answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[teine-mallaichte]

For DA drunk writing, how about “Hiding blood loss with bandages” for Fenders? Perhaps Anders can’t heal himself for some reason and is trying to push through it. I always love a scenario where the healer needs to accept help.

Oh writing then this way round is hard 🤣 far easier to have Fenris hiding an injury. Was a fun challenge though.

I think this came out as a pre-frenders to be honest

@dadrunkwriting fic number 3

Anders swiftly wraps the bandages around his wound, concealing the crimson stain spreading through the fabric. He meets Fenris's concerned gaze with a strained smile, trying to downplay the severity of his injury. "Just a scratch," he reassures, though the weight of his vulnerability burdens him.

Fenris regards Anders skeptically, his eyes probing for the truth. "Why don't you simply heal yourself, mage?"

Anders hesitates, his gaze darting away from Fenris's piercing stare. "It's... complicated," he murmurs, unwilling to divulge the truth behind his inability to use magic to mend his wound. "But I'll manage. Give me a moment to dress it properly, and I'll be as good as new." He shifts uncomfortably, hoping Fenris won't press further. The thought of being perceived as a burden gnaws at him.

Reluctantly, Fenris nods, though his concern remains evident. "Very well," he concedes, his gaze lingering on Anders for a moment longer before turning his attention back to their surroundings. "We need to find Hawke and Isabella swiftly. They could be in grave danger."

As Fenris steps away to survey their surroundings, Anders seizes the opportunity to inspect his wound more closely. Carefully peeling back the edge of the bandage, he winces as he sees the ominous spread of blood staining the fabric. The magebane coating on the blade had effectively nullified his ability to heal the wound, leaving him vulnerable and dependent on mundane means of treatment. Perhaps in his clinic, or even at camp, this setback might have been manageable, but it here... Knowing they still had things to do and could be attacked again... Things were far more precarious.

Anders clenches his jaw, suppressing a frustrated growl as he realizes the gravity of his situation. But he can't be a burden, Hawke and Isabella are out there somewhere, potentially hurt... Readjusting the bandage, ensuring it's secure, he hides it beneath his robes once more.

Taking a deep breath, he starts walking in what he hopes will be the right direction.

Anders finds it increasingly difficult to keep up with Fenris as they continue their journey. Every step sends a jolt of pain through his injured body, and the weight of his fatigue begins to drag him down. He grits his teeth and tries to maintain a steady pace, refusing to let his weakness slow them down.

Fenris notices Anders's struggle and slows his pace, casting a concerned glance in his direction. "What's wrong?" he asks, he sounds irritated but Anders can see the thinly veiled concern.

For a moment, Anders debated whether to reveal the truth, but ultimately, he forced a weak smile, attempting to dismiss Fenris's concern. "Just a bit tired," he replied, his voice strained with the effort of masking his pain. "I'll be fine once we find Hawke and Isabella."

Fenris's gaze lingers on Anders for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. It's clear that he's not entirely convinced by Anders's reassurance, but for now, he chooses to let the matter rest. With a curt nod, he resumes their journey, his steps more measured as if silently acknowledging Anders's struggle without further comment.

As Anders stumbles, and his muscles ache, the weight of his own weariness threatens to drag him to the ground. Despite his determination not to falter, the strain is becoming too much to bear.

With a blink, Anders finds himself face to face with Fenris, who appears as if out of thin air. Surprise flickers across Anders's features at the sudden appearance of the elf, his mind momentarily registering the unexpectedness of Fenris's swift movement. Can he teleport? A pang of resentment stirs within him at the thought of Fenris keeping such abilities hidden.

But before Anders can voice his surprise, Fenris's voice cuts through his thoughts with an undeniable firmness. "You are not fine," Fenris states, his tone leaving no room for argument. And though Anders tries to brush off the concern he hears in Fenris's voice, he can't deny the hint of worry that lingers beneath the surface.

With a stubborn look, Anders attempts to assert his independence. "Last I checked, I was the healer here," he retorts, his words tinged with frustration. "I'm relatively confident that I can judge my own health." He pauses irritated, "and since when can you teleport?"

Confusion clouds Fenris's features as he registers Anders's accusation. "Teleport?" he echoes, his tone betraying his bewilderment. "What nonsense are you spouting now, mage?"

Anders's frustration deepens at Fenris's evident lack of understanding. "Forget it," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head in exasperation. "It's not important. Let's just focus on getting where we need to be."

As Anders moves to push past Fenris, the warrior's hand grips his shoulder firmly, halting his progress. "Stop," Fenris commands, urgency creeping into his voice. "You're injured."

Anders reiterates his assertion, trying to brush off Fenris's concern. "You are overreacting," he insists, trying to sound convincing despite the throbbing pain in his side. "Let's just keep moving."

Fenris's grip tightens, his eyes holding a mixture of frustration and genuine concern. "I am not overreacting," he counters firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anders stands up straight, ignoring the way it pulls on his wound, glaring at the warrior he slowly reiterates, "I am the healer here, and I say I am fine. Now get out of my way."

Fenris hesitates for a moment, his gaze locked with Anders's defiant stare. The tension between them crackles in the air, each refusing to yield to the other's stubbornness. But then, with a sigh of resignation, Fenris releases his grip on Anders's shoulder and steps back.

"Fine," Fenris concedes, his voice tinged with frustration. "But if you do collapse i am not carrying you" With a pointed look, he gestures for Anders to lead the way.

Anders nods. "That won't be a problem." he replies.

With each step, Anders could feel the weight of Fenris's gaze on him, a constant reminder of the elf's unwelcome concern. Sure, he might have been lightly stabbed, and yes, healing was temporarily off the table thanks to that blasted magebane, but he wasn't some helpless child. Anders knew his own body well enough to recognize the signs of blood loss. Besides, they had bigger problems – like finding Hawke and Isabella before something happened to them.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Fenris was hovering, though. It grated on him, this unnecessary fuss. Did the elf really think he couldn't handle a minor setback? That he was just some pathetic weak mage who couldn't cope with a little stabbing? Anders clenched his jaw. He'd prove Fenris wrong, show him that he wasn't some fragile thing in need of constant attention.

"Mage."

Anders blinked, startled to find Fenris standing in front of him once again. How does he keep sneaking up like that? His irritation flared, bracing himself for yet another round of Fenris's relentless concern. "What now?" Anders asked, his tone edged with exasperation.

Fenris's expression briefly flickered with concern before settling into a frown. "Why did you stop?" he questioned, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Anders scoffed, incredulous. "Stop? I didn't stop," he insisted, his frustration mounting. "I've been walking this entire time."

Fenris's brow furrowed in confusion as he observed Anders closely. "You did," he countered, his voice firm. "You froze for a moment, as if... lost."

Anders's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he struggled to comprehend Fenris's observations. "I... I didn't notice," he admitted, his confusion evident in his voice.

Fenris stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning Anders's form with a critical gaze. "What is wrong?" he pressed.

Anders's patience wore thin as Fenris continued to scrutinize him, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Nothing is wrong!" he snapped, his tone sharper than intended.

Fenris remained undeterred, his gaze unwavering. "You're pale, stumbling, and seem... disoriented," he pointed out. "Something is clearly amiss."

Anders bristled at Fenris's persistence, his pride battling against the undeniable truth of his deteriorating condition. "We are wasting time arguing," he insisted, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

Fenris's frustration flared at Anders's stubborn refusal to acknowledge his worsening condition. "Your stubbornness will cost us more time if you collapse," he retorted sharply, his voice tinged with exasperation. "We need to address this now, before it becomes a larger issue."

Anders recoiled slightly at the harshness in Fenris's tone, his own frustration matching the warrior's. "I said I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly, though the strain in his voice betrayed his growing weakness. "We can't afford to waste time on me when Hawke and Isabella could be in danger."

Conflicting emotions played across Fenris's features, torn between his concern for Anders and his determination to find their friends. After a moment of tense silence, he seemed to make a decision.

"Show me the injury," he demanded.

Anders hesitates, caught off guard by Fenris's sudden demand. His mind races for a plausible excuse, anything to divert Fenris's attention away from his wound. With a nervous chuckle, he tries to lighten the mood. "Oh, I knew you were eager to get me out of my robes, but I didn't think you'd be this forward," he quips, hoping his attempt at humor will distract Fenris from pressing further.

Fenris's expression remains impassive, his gaze unwavering as he waits for Anders to comply. "This is not a joking matter," he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Placing a gauntleted hand on Anders chest he pushes the mage backwards towards a fallen log. "Sit."

A sudden wave of dizziness engulfs him, leaving his head spinning and the world swaying around him. It's as though the simple act of sitting down has severed some invisible thread that kept him moving forward, leaving him adrift in a disorienting haze. He blinks rapidly, trying to dispel the vertigo that threatens to overwhelm him, but the sensation only intensifies, like a relentless storm raging within his mind.

He glances down seeing that he has already pulled back his robe, the red stained bandage now on show. He frowned slightly, having no memory of either sitting nor moving his robe.

As Fenris carefully peels back the edge of the bandage to get a better look. Anders can't help but flinch at the touch, the pain shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

Through the fog of his disorientation, Fenris's voice pierces through with stark clarity, "Why did you not heal yourself?"

Each syllable reverberates within him, demanding attention even as his thoughts spiral into chaos. It's a struggle to focus, to cling to the thread of conversation amid the swirling maelstrom of sensation that threatens to engulf him.

"I couldn't," Anders murmurs weakly, his voice barely audible above the pounding of his own heart. "The blade... it was coated in magebane. It nullified my magic."

Fenris's brow furrows with concern as he studies Anders's pale, clammy complexion. "You're in no condition to continue," he declares firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anders opens his mouth to protest, but before he can form a coherent response, the world tilts dangerously, and darkness swallows him whole. The last thing he hears before succumbing to unconsciousness is Fenris's urgent voice calling his name.

When Anders regains consciousness, he finds himself lying on a bedroll, the sound of crackling flames and distant voices echoing around him. Blinking blearily, he struggles to sit up, his body protesting every movement with a symphony of aches and pains.

"You collapsed."

Anders hears Fenris's voice from somewhere nearby.

Anders turns his head towards the sound of Fenris's voice, squinting against the dim light to make out the familiar form of the elf nearby. "Collapsed?" he repeats, his voice hoarse and raspy. The events leading up to his unconsciousness flood back to him in disjointed fragments, the sensation of falling and the echo of Fenris's urgent voice still lingering in his memory.

Fenris nods grimly, "I had to carry you," he says with a hint of irritation.

Anders struggles to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as pain flares anew in his side. "You said you wouldn't carry me if I collapsed," he remarks.

Fenris's expression softens slightly at Anders's reminder, though his irritation remains evident. "I changed my mind," he admits grudgingly, his gaze flickering away briefly before returning to meet Anders.

"Hawke and Isabella were not far from where you fell." He explained, quickly changing the subject "fortunately for you they both seem to know some amount of first aid."

Anders nods weakly, gratitude mingling with his lingering discomfort. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I appreciate it."

Fenris offers a terse nod in response, his expression softening slightly at Anders's words. "Rest now," he advises, before standing and leaving Anders alone by the fire.

[becauseanders]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

ahhh hi thank you! (finally answering this!) 🖤

It Took the Night to Believe: chapterfic, complete, 100k. dragon age ii, anders/male hawke. pacific rim au. i am honestly really fucking proud of this fic, like i thought it was great even though it didn't do super well kudos-wise and i did notice that i definitely did lose readers as it went on. i truly have no idea why, this fic is fucking great. it's got angst, it's got comfort, it's got near death experiences, it's got fluff, it's got kaiju—what's not to love??

No Wound as Sharp as the Will of God: chapterfic, complete, 99k. dragon age ii, anders/female hawke. canonverse, post-da2. it took me seven years to post a second chapter of this and a total of eight years to finish it, and the whole time i was writing it after i picked it up again i was so unsure of it, but turns out i really like it. very heavy content, please do mind the tags. takes place while hawke is with the inquisition. anders positive, justice positive. a very intense, very deep, very affectionate friendship between anders and fenris is an extremely important part of the story. like, seriously, the platonic fenders is just as important as the romantic handers. a lot of angst, like so much angst, but the hurt/comfort is real. the b-plot pertains to my theory that justice cures anders of the taint. cole is there. the emotions are high and you can feel them strongly in the writing. again, be careful, but this is a good fic.

A Thing With Feathers Now, Elevate: one shot, 11k. dragon age: origins, alistair/female amell. canonverse, takes place over the course of da:o. this fic is a fucking masterpiece. another that didn't do well numbers-wise but this is easily one of the absolute best things i've ever written and is quite possibly one of the best fics on ao3. i am so fucking proud of this one. the prose, the metaphors, the handling of trauma, the found family—this one deserved way more love than it got. like, i'm serious, this fic is amazing.

It Means Tumult: chapterfic, wip, 349k (yes, you read that right). dragon age ii, anders/female hawke. modern au. okay, obviously i've got to mention this one. i have been working on this fic for eight years and i am very sorry to everyone who saw this go from updating multiple times a week and asking me how the fuck i write so fast to three years without a single update and then i think only one more in the past two years. i'm working on the penultimate chapter, i swear i am, i'm just super stuck right now. this fic is…this fic. i'm not going to lie, i don't really know if this is any longer some of my better writing, but the premise is fucking solid and i have been told more than once that it's clear this is a labor of love and that this is endearing. au where the obvious metaphors are made reality: the circles are psychiatric institutions and being mentally ill is a crime. a lot of angst, but a lot of love. pay no mind to how much better of a character and person aveline is when i write her. i also do admittedly use this fic to deal with my own demons frequently. an andrea gibson poem helped me write one chapter and i later got to tell them about it and they hugged me. this is also very heavily centered on music and has a lengthy soundtrack. please ignore the fact that when i first started writing this i used british english when i typed because i thought it looked better, as i had started doing as a teenager, which tbh i still kind of do but i also realized that's just fucking pretentious to do when you're american, and it was already so long by the time i stopped doing it that there was no way in hell i was going back to editing all of that (as i actually did do with nwasatwog). so that's just the way it is. but yeah, there's a lot of feelings happening here. also the only fic on this list that has an original title instead of song lyrics despite being the one with the most music involved, lol.

Through the Fall and the Feel: chapterfic, wip, 52k. dragon age ii, anders/male hawke. modern au. this is the one i'm working on most right because that's just where the brainworms are. hawke is a teddy bear doctor and anders goes to see him because instead of a pillow from his mother he has a stuffed cat, and she has seen much better days. this fic has a very wholesome premise but has gone into some pretty heavy angst already and i did not mean for eating disorders to be as important to the story as they have become, so be mindful of that. but this fic has a lot of heart and it's absolutely tanking, so if this piques your interest maybe go give it a look? this is also my second foray into m!handers and i am again having fun writing them. but yeah, i actually like this fic a lot and i do recommend it.

[staghunters]

Yellowjackets Girl Loser Standoff

Can't add polls to reblogs, but @mercedesrollinballer was talking of one to settle this matter. (@mistysnat started it all)

Yellowjackets! Alive, but failing at every instance. Who's doing it the worst? Your pick! Arguments for each are under the Read, but if you are sure of your losing dog, then vote here!

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT

Taissa Turner

Teen Eats dirt and is not aware of her shadow-self to an embarassing degree. Sets up an expedition to get to civilization with only a bit of rations and a compass, and nearly gets her gf killed (they don't find help btw). Her rushed funeral for clown Jackie indirectly causes the cannibalism. "You ate her face, Tai" and she didn't even remember it.

Adult Hires a vague hitman to spy on her surviving teammates because what are social skills? Has a Gorgeous wife and stable home and then chooses politics. Leaves her wife in a coma and her son with his gran to hitchhike to her ex because yea her evil double said so and that is definitely legit. Claims to be a skeptic about rituals until she is in the clear and can participate on the safe side lol. Marries a rock?? Is not getting that re-election.

Shauna Shipman

Teen Thinks screwing her bestie's beard is what will solve things. Related: is pregnant while stuck in the woods. Related: did not raise the baby to hunt down Jeff like she said she would. Verbal communication? We bottle up our emotions and then write them down on paper for everyone to read. Did a silly voice while playing around as the vessel for hunter guy in the seance. EVERY SECOND OF HER IN THE SHED WITH POPSICLE JACKIE. Throws a fit over not being crowned cannibal queen.

Adult Totally living her dream life. Thinks a posh british accent is sexy in her furniture store roleplay. Got in a fender bender with some guy, cheated with him, then murdered him and hid his body. Still hallucinates her bestie hanging around. Can only seem to find some joy in her life through Violence (maybe skip the sex-therapist and go looking for one that deals with anger issues). Thought that she Had to murder a baby goat when nobody said a word about that. Got hunted lol.

Misty Quigley

Teen Unhinged from the start. No social skills. Has the hots for her gay coach. Destroys the flight recorder because "uwu then people will need me" and not think about the consequences. People ditch her for the most part after first-aid isn't needed anymore (happy now, Misty?). Throws psychedelics in the stew (banned from kitchen). Snitches on Jackie not taking part in the saying thanks, which sparks the fight with Shauna, which gets Jackie dead, despite Jackie being one of the few (maybe only?) people to be nice to her. Speaking of, gets a new bestie and has her falling off the shit cliff. Cannot read the room during a baby shower. Theater kid. Has no cast-appointed middle name, but the fic-appointed one is "fucking" Adult Works in elderly care so she can munchausen someone in case she need a mood boost. Forces herself in Natalie's life. Is on true-crime reddit. Her only friend is a parrot. Has a murder basement that she doesn't actually use for murder. Reads trashy romance novels. Overshares on a first date. Hangs out with a dude and lets him reduce her talents to a shrivel. Infiltrates a cult for shits and giggles. "Misty, you actually killed somebody" KILLS HER FRIEND. SHE ACCIDENTALLY KILLS HER FRIEND

[barbex]

I would love to see something for this spectacular prompt! Happy writing!

❝  you love me too much.  i know how that sounds but—  fucking hell.  you shouldn’t care that much about someone like me.  ❞

Such a great prompt, oh my god! Thank you. Another fenders fic for @dadrunkwriting, fresh from the keyboard without editing because I need to go to bed now.

TW for injury and blood, not in a graphic way though.

--

"You do know that the blood is supposed to be on the inside of your body, do you?" Joking with Fenris would be more convincing if Anders' voice didn't waver. 

Fenris' voice, on the other hand, is infuriatingly calm, despite the massive wound in his abdomen. "Yes, I am aware of that, mage." He tries to look at the injury but he groans as his head falls back on the table they're using as a cot.

"How's the pain?" Now Anders found his voice, the professional one. The voice of a healer, taking care of his patient, not the love of his life. 

"I can manage."

"Suffering puts unnecessary strain on your body and will slow the healing process." 

Fenris slowly turns his head to look at Anders. "You always say that. Is it really true?"

Anders rushes forward to put both his hands on Fenris' cheeks. "It's true. Please, let me take away the pain. I know you hate losing control but I can help you better when you aren't tense from the pain."

Fenris closes his eyes and breathes in. "Magic or potion?" 

"A potion. I'll need my mana for healing you." 

With a shaky sigh, Fenris nods. "I agree to a potion against pain."

"And that I heal you," Anders says. "With magic."

There's only a short hesitations before Fenris says, "yes, you may heal me with magic." He tries to smile but the pain turns it into a grimace. 

Anders shakes his head. For years they've been acting out this script, again and again. Even after travelling half way through Thedas, into Tevinter, building a network to free slaves — Fenris wants to be asked before magic is used on him and Anders always waits for his consent. What used to be an angry exchange between enemies, many years ago, is now a ritual between lovers.

"Here, drink slowly." Anders slips his arm behind Fenris' head and holds the vial to his lips. Fenris never looks away from him as he swallows and Anders watches his eyes until they roll back in his head. "There you go, my love, now let me just make you whole again."

He lays Fenris' head down and gets to work. The wound is deep and nasty, and will soon get infected if he doesn't hurry. It needs all his expertise and nearly all of his mana to clean the wound and heal layer upon layer of connective tissue until he can heal the skin, connecting the lyrium markings as they were before. Finally, he sinks down in a chair, exhausted in the best way.

"All done, love. You should wake up soon." He looks at Fenris on the table, breathing evenly. "Don't think I didn't notice that you took that attack for me. You shouldn't have done that, I could have... I would have... I don't know, but you shouldn't run into someone's sword for me."

Fenris groans, still under the influence of the potion. He blinks, and when he sees Anders, a big, if slightly dumb smile spreads on his face. "Hey, you are beautiful."

Anders laughs out. "Oh, dear, that potion still got you." 

Fenris rolls onto his side. "Are you a mage?"

"Yes, Fenris, I am a mage, I'm —"

"You are very pretty," Fenris says with a dreamy voice, "but I already have a mage."

Anders suppresses a laugh. "Do you now?"

"Yes." Fenris closes his eyes and smiles. "He is kind and soft and powerful. I love him so much."

Anders chokes on his own spit. Fenris never uses the word love, never. He clears his throat and asks, "do you know why you're here?"

"I got injured." Fenris frowns, trying to remember. "I saw the warrior surprise him, I had to protect him."

"That was dangerous, you could have —"

"— I cannot." Fenris moves so abruptly, he almost falls off the table. "I cannot risk losing him."

Anders puts his hand on Fenris' shoulder to push him back to the middle of the table. "I'm sure your mage can protect himself."

"You don't understand," Fenris slurs. "I need him. I love him."

"I shouldn't hear this," Anders murmurs to himself. "Try to sleep some more," he says louder. 

"Yes, pretty mage." Fenris closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. After a few minutes, he breathes slowly and evenly again. 

Anders watches him sleep, letting his healing aura wrap around them both. He raises his hand to brush white hair away from his forehead. "By the Maker, Fenris, you love me too much. I know how that sounds but — fucking void, you shouldn’t care that much about someone like me."

He must have fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes again, light pokes through the curtains of their temporary home. He has his hand on Fenris' stomach, over the bandage and he peeks under it to look for signs of infections. Everything looks fine but he uses a quick diagnostic spell to make sure that nothing else has turned up over night.

Fenris wakes with a gasp. Magic still has that effect on him.

"It's alright, I'm done, I just had to do a last check." Anders holds his hands close but doesn't touch Fenris. "Everything looks good, the wound is healing well."

Fenris takes Anders' hand and wraps his fingers around it. "What happened, after you healed me?"

"You remember that?" Anders wishes for the floor to swallow him. The things Fenris said were deeply personal, he never would have said anything like it were he not under the influence of the drug. Even the idea of embarrassing Fenris with this tale makes bile rise in Anders' throat. 

"Nothing happened."

Fenris sits up, wincing when he puts strain on his stomach. "Tell me, please."

Hanging his head, Anders gives in. "You called me a pretty mage."

"Well, you are a pretty mage." Fenris grins.

"Oh, shut up."

Fenris lifts Anders' head with a finger under his chin. "What are you hiding from me?"

Once, a year ago, Fenris made Anders swear that he would never lie and not keep secrets from Fenris. That oath now rings in his head like a bell and with a sigh, he gives in. "You said you already have a pretty mage. And that you love him."

Fenris goes very still. "What else?"

"You talked about your mage, how nice and powerful he is, and then I asked about the fight, how you got the injury." Anders gets up to find something to do for his hands. "And I consider it to be heroic humility that I didn't make you explain why you took that blow for me."

The hand holding his own tightens. "I remember."

"You do? That's unusual, most people just sleep after that potion and only a very few talk, but they usually don't remember anything."

Fenris grabs his hand and pulls him closer, fixing him in his green eyed stare. "I remember. I remember talking about my mage, how I love him. And I remember you saying that I love you too much." 

"You remember that, too?" Anders tries to stay up again, but Fenris holds him. 

"Don't run away from me."

"I just wanted to look where I could dig a hole for me to hide in."

Fenris stands up, stepping in front of Anders' chair, between his knees. He slides his hand behind Anders' neck, cradling his head and looking at him with his deep green eyes and Anders just wants to fall. He would do anything for this elf. 

"Listen, my mage, because I will not say it again." Fenris leans down, his lips just a finger width away from Anders' lips. "I don't love you too much. I love just the right amount, as you love me and don't you dare to deny it. Not anymore."

"Not anymore," Anders whispers. 

"Good." Fenris closes the distance and finally kisses Anders. When they stop, they keep breathing each other's air, Fenris holding Anders head as if he fears that he would fly away. "I believe we have a bed here, somewhere?"

"But you're still injured."

Fenris glares at him. "I would like to sleep some more, holding my mage in my arms."

"Right." Anders feels himself blush and stands up to help Fenris over to their bed. "I think we can do that."

When they lie in bed, Fenris pressed against Anders' back, tension falls from Anders' shoulders. He takes Fenris' hand from his chest and kisses his knuckles. "I love you, Fenris, so much."

Fenris' arms tighten around him and he presses a kiss onto his neck. "My mage," he whispers into his neck. And Anders knows all the way in his heart that it means the same.

[tobythewise]

A Fenders fic written from the prompt: It's really not that complicated. From this prompt list. If you're interested in more Dragon Age fics from me, feel free to hit me with a prompt from this list <3 My plan is to just make my way down the list whenever I have a little time to write!

~~~

Anders carefully crawls out of his tent, letting the cool night air wash over him. He wipes the sweat from his brow and lets out a long sigh. 

Nightmares. Because of course he can’t have just one night out on the coast where he gets a good night’s sleep. This was one of his usual darkspawn variety and for that at least he’s glad. He doesn’t need reassurance or comfort. He’s mostly used to this brand of horror by now.

Mostly. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

Standing up straight, he stretches his arms over his head before reaching back into his tent and yanking his coat out. Wrapping it around himself, Anders makes his way over to the fire. 

He sits on a log they’d dragged over by the fire when they’d first made camp. He stares down into the fire, watching the flames flicker and wane. The fire feels nice. A sharp contrast to the coldness of his nightmare.

“Nightmares?”

“Andraste’s tits!”

Anders looks up, finding Fenris sitting across from him, looking completely unimpressed. He runs a hand over the center of his chest, double checking he’s not literally having a heart attack from that scare. 

“Did you really not notice my presence?”

“Sorry,” Anders murmurs. He pulls the tie from his hair, running his fingers through the strands before he ties his hair back once more. It’s something he does when he’s nervous. 

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” Fenris says, his usual glare in place. Anders rolls his eyes in response. 

Staring into the fire, he listens to the sounds around them. Only the chittering of insects, Varric’s soft snores, and the crackle of the fire. As of this moment, they are safe. Plus, there’s not a darkspawn anywhere near their area. At the thought, a shiver goes through Anders. He disguises it as a chill, getting even closer to the fire. 

Okay, so maybe the nightmare was worse than Anders originally admitted to himself. Maybe it was awful. Maybe it’s left him feeling offcentered and upset. Maybe he wants to get the feeling of all encompassing darkness mixed with images of blood out of his mind. 

“If you get any closer to the fire you will burn yourself, mage.”

Andera doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t. His eyes dart up, staring into Fenris’ green ones. 

“You’ll promise to put me out, right?”

Fenris hums. “Maybe not right away. Eventually.” Anders huffs in amusement, shaking his head. “It would make a good excuse to throw away that coat.”

Anders crosses his arms over his chest. “This coat is the height of fashion, thank you very much.”

Silence stretched between them and for once, Anders doesn’t try to fill it. It doesn’t claw at him like it normally would. He’s too caught up in what he keeps seeing behind his closed lids. 

Justice offers to take over, but Anders declines, knowing that’ll only make things worse. Then he’ll be trapped in the loop of nightmare without any outward distractions. Justice understands, doing his best to send reassuring feelings. Anders appreciated the gesture. 

“Were they bad?”

“Hmm? Was what bad?”

“Your nightmares.”

Anders looks away from the fire, tilting his head to the side. “Not to be a complete dick but I can’t help but ask; why do you care?”

Fenris looks away, his scowl deepening. He looks conflicted. Anders braces himself for the worst. 

“It is really not that complicated,” Fenris eventually says, his voice softer than Anders is used to hearing. Sure, he’s kind to Hawke. He jokes with Varric. He has hushed talks with Sebastian. But when it comes to Anders, Fenris either avoids him or argues with him. Anders is completely blown away and he would be embarrassed by the way his mouth hangs open if he wasn’t hanging on Fenris’ every word. “I care. That is why I ask.”

“You—“ Anders stares for a long moment before rubbing at his eyes. When he opens them again, Fenris is still there, still watching him. “You care? About me? The apostate who lives in the sewer?” 

Fenris simply nods. “Yes.”

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Anders says softly, more to himself than to Fenris but of course the elf hears it.

“Do you dream of me often?”

Anders buries his face in his hands, letting out an embarrassed groan. When he peeks through the opening of his fingers, he finds Fenris watching him and if he didn’t know any better, Anders would think the look on his face is fond. But that can’t be right. Fenris hates him. Except for the fact that Fenris just said that he cared about Anders. 

Anders clears his throat. “It was a darkspawn dream. The warden special.”

“It seemed worse than usual.”

“I was stuck in the Deep Roads. We were trapped. There was nothing I could do as darkspawn came at all sides. No matter what I did you all were taken down one by one. There was just so much blood.” Anders shudders, shaking himself out of the vision and turning his eyes back up to Fenris. 

Only Fenris has moved. He carefully steps around the fire, sitting beside Anders. “Does it help? Knowing that we are all okay?”

Anders let out a long breath. “Yes,” he admits softly. “I can hear those two snoring and I can see that you’re here. I can see that you’re-“ his breath catches. Fuck. He was keeping it together so well! 

Justice disagrees. 

“I’m here.”

Feeling brave, or maybe feeling stupidly vulnerable, Anders reaches over and takes Fenris’ hand. Fenris goes still at the touch. “Is this alright?”

Fenris nods, his body relaxing again. Anders feels himself slump, his body going lax at the contact. He leans against Fenris’ side and when he’s not cussed out, he leans his head against Fenris’ shoulder. He’s thankful the elf has removed his usual spiky armor. 

Fenris runs his thumb over Anders’ hand, the movement soothing. Anders’ eyes grow heavy. 

“Sleep, mage. I will watch over you.”

This time when he says mage, Anders realize it’s different than how it used to be. Sometime without Anders realizing it, that had become a pet name instead of an insult. He feels a soft press of lips against the top of his head. 

Justice is lulled by Fenris’ presence just the same as Anders is.

He’s not sure how he’s been so oblivious but things are suddenly becoming crystal clear. Just maybe, his feelings aren’t as one sided as he’s always felt. 

“Hey, Fenris?” Anders whispers.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Fenris hums, squeezing Anders hand. “Sleep now. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Promise?”

Anders swears he can hear the small smile in his voice when he says, “promise.” 

[devondespresso]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @museumgiftshoperaser

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

technically 2, but its a sfw and nsfw version of the same fic fhajklfjdalfjk

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

...6,357. i promise i write.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

just stranger things so far, but i have seriously thought about writing about Fender's gender from Robots (2005) and I promised my friend a Shark Tale fic for their birthday fjalhfdjkalfdj

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Never Again

Never Again (sfw)

fascinating statistics arent they

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

never gotten comments on ao3, i do reply to what i get on tumblr tho because it literally makes my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

(including my unposted work) Never Again, tho i think its more bittersweet than unrelenting angst

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

tho its technically not finished, We'll Be Alright (Steve Henderson AU) has a very happy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank god

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

im gonna say no? despite writing something spicy at the beginning of Never Again it was not a good time (for me or Nancy)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

haven't yet, and while i wont write them off entirely itd have to have really strong potential for me to want to do it

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, and i dont know how well id go. on the one hand im usually good at group stuff but im also an annoying perfectionist with my writing

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

platonically stobin 100%. i dont get nearly as attatched to the romantic ones so i kinda just bounce around the fandom. Really love a lot of the steve harrington rairpairs floating around, plus robin and vickie

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I dont realllly have a writing wip i know i wont finish cause i've just been posting those vague ideas instead of actually writing them becuase i know i wont. My only active wip is the steve henderson au and im hoping praying to god that i dont suddenly loose passion for it

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue probably, coming up with how different characters are saying things, what theyre saying, what they mean, all the little differences in their voices, I love it. that and having characters interact with the environment

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

overthinking and underthinking, stopping myself from making something happen or a character do something because theres this pull in my chest telling me its wrong. even just standard selfishness or saying something without the express intent of making sure it wont hurt someones feelings. i also start sentences with verbs djaldjdjaf

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

makes sense if characters are speaking multiple languages i guess. depends on pov and how limited it is to the pov character. like if the pov character doesnt speak spanish it'd be better to write "and they said something in spanish they didnt understand" instead of writing the spanish out assuming the audience doesnt know it either

19. First fandom you wrote for?

stranger things

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

definitely my steve henderson au. i wish it was shared already but at the same time i've editied and changed so much im glad i havnt officially yet. its helped me work through a lot and has even caused noticable improvement in my relationship with my family even if they dont know it exists. i cant promise itll be fully posted soon, but i am so exited for when i do

tagging @stobinesque @marvel-ous-m @eriquin @itsthestrangestthings @findafight @fag4dykestobin (no pressure ofc 💕)

[nerd-at-sea5]

SHIT OK NEW FIC IDEA

set sometime after shawn mendes releases 'if i can't have you' (bear with me here)

junior year of highschool. van & nat best friends, tai & lottie best friend, lottienat has been a thing for a while. taivan has also been a thing for a while, HOWEVER due to me wanting to make everything sad, they break up.

BUT WAIT. van attempting to win taissa back (with lottienat's help ofc ofc (and laura lee bc DUH. and the rest of the team. bc DUH.)

it all leads up to them all breaking into the school in the middle of the night for van to play 'if i can have you' and win back tai (yes natalie and shauna hijack the light and sound boards and YES laura lee does in fact make cookies)

if you cannot tell i'm losing my mind over taivan and yellowjackets as a whole :) i'm writing this after i finish the sam fender fic

[justcallmecappy]

Help me write a Fenders fic (pt. 8)

[ Read part 1 here | Read part 2 here | Read part 3 here | Read part 4 here | Read part 5 here | Read part 6 here | Read part 7 here ]

Fenris and Anders glance at the door, and then look back at each other.

"Pretend we're not in here," Anders says under his breath, and Fenris nods.

Without even realizing he was doing it, Anders takes Fenris' hand in his and leads him to duck behind the bed, out of sight from the door.

There is a subtle click-clacking sound of the lock being picked, and the door swings open with an audible creak.

"Hmm. Empty," Isabela observes.

"I could have sworn I heard them in here!" Hawke huffs. "Well, this is the last room. They probably found a way out and are at the Hanged Man right now, celebrating their escape."

"Or perhaps they're celebrating their escape in Fenris' bedroom," Isabela says suggestively, a chuckle stealing into her voice.

"Hey, save that one for Varric's next serial," Hawke says. "I, for one, have had enough excitement for one day. Let's head to the bar — I think we've earned ourselves a drink."

"On that, we can agree." Isabela and Hawke's voices are already fading with their footsteps, and the door clicks shut behind them.

Fenris and Anders exchange another glance, tension leaving their shoulders like a loosening bowstring. Anders is suddenly reminded of his days in the Circle, having clandestine meetings and secret trysts with his fellow mages in the hidden places of the tower, doing their best to avoid Templar attention. The rush, the thrill of narrowly being discovered makes him slightly lightheaded and dizzy, like he had too much to drink.

Anders lets out a shaky laugh. "To be continued," he murmurs. The words hang in the air like a promise.

Fenris bows his head slightly in a way that is almost shy. He looks as if on the verge of wanting to say something in response, but still working out how to say it.

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

[mikkeneko]

Not tagged by @veliseraptor, but this looked fun!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

first fic you ever published there: First ever was The Orphan from Tsubasa fandom, published to AO3 on 9/03/2010! More than thirteen years ago this month, gosh. This was however by no means the first fic I ever wrote, nor even the date I wrote it -- I republished a bunch of fics over from fanfiction.net and this just happened to be the first.

last fic you published: Immortal Lamb Crusader Way , which actually got a much bigger reception than I'd expected! considering it was a crossover fic (thus a higher bar to entry than non-crossover fic.) By no means upset by this, but slightly baffled, I am left to conclude that Scum Villain fic readers are really just hungry for new content.

any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once: Hrm. Hard to qualify. There are several fandoms that are on there only once, but they tend to be either fusions or crack crossovers (like the Never Gonna Tell A Lie Saga.) I don't think those count. The only one that really meets the criteria for this would be abovementioned Immortal Lamb Crusader Way, but I fully intend to write more SVSSS/BingQiu later on! So... let's say The Dressmaker's Bride, which I'd consider the only fic I ever seriously wrote for CSS and Tomoyo/Sakura.

your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works: This would actually be the Dragon Age fandom -- couple of prospects from there. I quite liked fruits of poison, flowers of blood as an exploration of the Anders and Merrill friendship and also Mirror, Mirror as a shenanigans comedy featuring multiple Hawke clones. But I think this one has to go to One Elegant Solution by virtue of being my magnum opus out of the entirely sixty-five bunch of them.

fic you wish more people read: Gosh. Honestly a few options here. Just the other day I was thinking of Blood Feathers - a Fenders minibang fic I wrote that featured Fenris as a griffon-riding Gray Warden and Anders as a griffon veterinarian, was a fic that I thought turned out very well but didn't get a lot of air time. And man, I was just really proud with how well Complicity came out, a Critical Role story unpacking Jester's torture trauma from the Iron Angels arc. And some of my older TRC fics -- particularly Undervoice and Cocoon -- fell into an awkward period between platforms where they never got much viewership either on FFNet or on AO3. Alas.

fic you agonized over the most: The really long ones probably have the most sweat blood and tears shed total -- One Elegant Solution from Dragon Age, Wizards/Heralds from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle; (say hello to my) thirty million little friends  from MDZS; but probably the one I agonized the most over for the eventual least impact was Labyrinth, an Avengers/Silent Hill crossover (see above note about crossovers having a higher bar to entry than non-crossovers; the fact that I picked a non-flagship pairing for this one probably didn't help.)

fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort: I don't know that any of them were no effort, but How To Become A Champion in 4 Easy Steps really did spring fully formed from my head, a second-person POV exploration of Hawke's grief and loss. 

a work you are proud of—for whatever reason: proud of a lot of em for many and various reasons! but I think Cover Up the Sun probably holds the record, out of all of my works ever, for having the most readers reaching out to me to say that it really helped them personally -- from the person who said that the apology conversation helped them realize that their friends were treating them badly, to some folks who found Loki's unpacking of his grief over his mother's death helped them deal with their own parents' death, to one person who left a note that this fic had helped them decide to go on living. That's the sort of thing that really makes spending years on writing to feel worth it, you know?

Tagging: @fieldofclover, @fortune-maiden, @faux-fires, and to break the alliterative streak, @cerusee.

[saint--claire]

Invitation to the Deep  - Term Glossary

Hi Everybody!

I was blown away by people’s interest with Invitation to the Deep, and to continue sharing the love (and because I’m a nerd) I wanted to continue the glossary in a more readable form.  The term definition overviews were really blowing out some of the end notes, so I decided to shuffle everything here, where I can make a nice tidy list.  It’s in alphabetical order per chapter, because to do it any other way would have annoyed me.

As I say in the story, please, please take everything you read with a grain of salt.  The story is fictional, some of the scenarios I put everyone in are blown well outside the bounds of plausibility.  I don’t specialize in diving, much less tec diving, and my marine license has been expired for a good few years.  Someone who has a metric ton of dive experience is J_Bailler, who wrote the outstanding ‘Thermocline’ in 2020, and whose technical experience inspired me to get my hands dirty with this fic.

I won’t continually reblog this post, but I will edit and update it each time I update the story itself, which will contain a link to this. 

**I am apparently now editing this post with the final additions of the story, only to acknowledge that many of us have now had a crash course in imploding submersibles.  I only have two main comments on this - the first being that I originally began writing and later publishing this story early this year, and the second is that the entirety of this story occurs less than a kilometer below sea level.

Chapter 1

FIFO - fly-in-fly-out.  Usually applicable for people working mines, oil rigs, or certain other trade jobs where the site you work on is highly remote.  You might work a 4-on-2-off schedule, which is where you’d fly out and work on site, staying in provided accommodation for 4 weeks, and then you’d fly home for 2 weeks before rinse and repeating.

LKP - last known position.  Think vessels (or submarine pods) lost at sea, or who’ve sent up distress signals before become non-contactable.

Lucet Tenebris - an entirely fictional underwater cave labyrinth set somewhere off the Indian ocean, near Indonesia.

Ring of Fire - Too long to explain in a post.   A very real and not made up geographical feature of the globe.  https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/ring-fire/

VHF - very high frequency (radios used at sea).

Yamaha - in this setting, a boat engine.  Noisy.

Chapter 2

Neoprene - The material wetsuits are made out of, to help people keep insulated and stay warm under water.  

Chapter 3

Fenders - big squishy things you put between ships to stop them damaging each other if they bump together.  Also used to stop boats banging into the wood/metal of marinas.

Chapter 4

Blood bent - a version of a slang term used to refer to decompression sickness (DCS) where pressure changes alter and form bubbles of the gases naturally inside human blood vessels.  DCS can often cause air bubbles to settle in and around major key joints and cause people to bend over in excruciating pain, which is how it got its name, the bends.

Embolism - In diving contexts, a gas embolism or an AGE would usually refer to a bubble of air in the blood.  This is really, really bad - it has the potential to shut off blood supply to major organs including the heart, brain, or lungs.  There’s no short or simple way to explain how they form, put if you look into barotrauma embolisms it’s a fascinating matter.

Equalising ears - Underwater at changing atmospheric pressure, water pressure bends the eardrum inwards.  You equalise this change by a variety of techniques, the same way you might in an aeroplane.  If you keep going deeper and don’t equalise your ears, you run the risk of damaging them or blowing them out completely.  Hurts like a bitch.

External airway - a measure of first aid and emergency resuscitation - if there is risk to an individual’s own airway collapsing or not being able to be maintained in the middle of an emergency scenario, intubation or an external airway implementation will be performed at speed.  An intubation tube is semi-rigid -the aim is that when you’re connected to oxygen, we want full confirmation that the air is traveling down the trachea and into the lungs, not stopping in its tracks because the airway’s collapsed.

Hyperbaric chamber - would suggest searching for a picture.  In a hyperbaric chamber, air pressure is increased higher than normal air pressure so a person’s lungs can pull in more oxygen than they would under normal circumstances.

Chapter 5

Klick - kilometre.

Neoprene ratings - Wetsuits come in varying thickness.  You might see them referred to as a 3:2 or a 5:3 or a 7:5 - this would indicate the material is 7mm thick over the chest and torso, 5mm thick on the arms and legs.  The thicker the material, the warmer you'll be.  The deeper you go, the thicker you'll want it!

Chapter 6

Buoyancy vest - also known as a BCD. It allows you to control your buoyancy in the water, allowing you to easily float on the surface without sinking under all the weight of your gear, and maintain neutral buoyancy while submerged (so you don’t sink further than the depth you are aiming to go to).

Dive computer -  a meter or device used by divers that measure elapsed time and depth during a dive, and use this data to calculate and display an ascent profile which will aim to prevent DCS.  Most will also monitor real-time ambient pressure input, some allow for gas switching during the dive, other features include water temp and compass info.

Gas blending - To dive at the depths of this fictional reef, you can’t just use straight oxygen or atmospheric air.  Gas blending mixes very specific concentrations of a variety of gases to create a breathable component.  It’s very specialised work and you have to undergo highly specialised training to do it.

Tec diving - I’m going to borrow J_Bailler’s explanation and hope she does not mind, which explains it far more concisely than I can.  The key differences between regular recreational scuba diving and tec diving:– scuba divers use air or air mixed with oxygen and generally stay at depths shallower than 40 metres.  Tec divers use various mixed gases to be able to go deeper and to stay there longer.  To breathe pure oxygen at deep depths can kill you.  Technical diving also includes cave diving almost as a default term, because you need advanced training to dive in an enclosed environment that has a ceiling.  In a normal dive, if something goes balls to the wall wrong, at least you can come up, whether you bend your blood or not.  In cave diving...

Trimix - Put simply, trimix is a blended composition of oxygen, helium, and nitrogen, used on deep descents.

Safety stops - planned stops as you reascend from the deep to decompress and allow your blood the chance to off-gas the excess nitrogen forming, and hopefully prevent decompression sickness.

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Cleat - The metal, wooden, or plastic part that protrudes from a jetty that you tie off a boat to.

S&S34 - A fibreglass monohull sailboat, primarily designed for cruising and racing.  For those of you who are interested or know the name, this is the yacht Jessica Watson sailed around the world in, at age 16.  

Hope everyone enjoys reading!  Let me know if there are other terms you’d like to see laid out.

[k9rage]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Game

Tagged by @autisticempathydaemon ! Not tagging anyone but you're welcome to do it and say I tagged you if you'd like.

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

32! Mostly Redacted at the moment, but I'm branching out.

2 - What's your total AO3 word count?

116,795... which is way more than I expected tbh

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

It's a bit of a smattering at the moment! Dragon Age and Redacted ASMR are the main ones, though I've been easing out of publishing my Redacted work recently.

4 - What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1.) Take Me Down (HQ!!)

2.) Click Click Boom (BNHA)

3.) Shatter (BNHA)

4.) Down, Boy (Redacted)

5.) Hungry Like The Wolf (Redacted)

5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do, but not always. If it's something substantial or more than "seconds kudos" I'll respond!

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't have any published angst ending type fics, so the closest I have is Light Untiring, my fic for a Dragon Age reverse big bang.

7 -What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

settle down (with you), my Geordi/Cutie fluff fic!

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally, yeah. I find keeping the comments moderated helps a bit though.

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write a LOT of smut, lol. I tend to veer towards smut that explores character motivations, but some of it is just filth for filths sake.

10 - Do you write crossovers?

Not really, no. I find the settings impact too crucial to the character's development and compellingness that I probably wouldn't find it appealing.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

In the past under a previous pseudonym, yes :/

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I think this doesn't happen very often in general. It's mostly a Big Fics reserved honor imo

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yup! Doesn't happen very often though, since I find it can be hard to mesh writing styles well enough that it isn't jarring to readers.

14 - What's your all time favorite ship?

Hmmm. Honestly Zevran x Warden is an enduring favorite. I have a soft spot for a lot of ships, but that one has endured quite a while now. Honorary mentions to fenders and handers tho I can't lie

15 - What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Hhhhh, my Nydha Lavellan longfic honestly. I just struggle with motivation and I've improved a lot since the original scrapped wip, so I suspect I'll end up starting it completely over again. Fic planning is hard yall

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm quite good at characterization, particularly in dialogue!

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually outlining BEFORE starting the fic properly and writing action scenes

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's hard to make it sound natural if you don't speak the language, particularly sign languages like ASL and BSL. You can definitely write dialogue in another language but if you're translating things it can take some research and fiddling to make it sound right.

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

It was eons ago now, but probably warrior cats? I wrote fanfic on paper back then though.

20 - Favorite fic you've written?

If I'm defining it as favorite end product, probably Down, Boy, though I just looked at it and realized I need to fix some spacing in there. Oopsies.

In terms of favorite to write, my Nydha Lavellan x Dorian fic was probably the most fun. I think I've really improved as a writer and it's fun to stick in cameos of other friend's OCs too!

[allthegoodusernamesaretakenagain]

hi Holly!!! I AM SO SORRY I have forgotten to do one of these the past few chapters! BUT IM HERE NOW.

I have absolutely loved the rise of quink recently, they are getting too CUTE AND WHOLESOME for my soul idk what to do! I’m so excited for the desert segment!

I wanted to ask, are there any new songs that you listen to that helps you write or any new songs that you associate with the fan fic???

That's okay Katie!!! Don't worry about that kind of thing!

Quink is definitely on the rise, more and more in the last few chapters!

There are lots of songs I listen to when writing! Some are necessarily connected to any characters, and are more just about the vibe.

Black Friday - Tom Odell [A Quentin Song]

Homesick - Noah Kahan, Sam Fender - [A Brinston Siblings Song]

History of Man - Maisie Peters [For every woman of this story]

Seven - Taylor Swift - [A Quentin and Link Song]

The Last One - Maisie Peters [When writing fun wholesome moments]

I Need You - M83 [Vibes]

Falling Colour - Vanbur [Vibes]

Cold Light - Vanbur [Vibes]

This is me trying - Taylor Swift [Vibes]

I Know A Place - MUNA [Vibes]

Not Strong Enough -boygenius [Vibes]

That's just a little list! I listen to a lot of different songs when I write, often ones I like at the time, so the list changes. In terms of songs for each of the characters that are kind of attached to their soul, that would probably be a different list! I've defo done that before, but with more characters and they might be different now! Let me know if you would be interested! <3

[dustandwindstuff]

One day (Fender Takacs x reader)

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Summary: this is my first time writing angst, i'm sorry if i made any mistakes in the fic!

Translating at the end notes

You can also find this on AO3

Warning: wounds, blood, minimal cursing, death

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Five minutes before everything was black and you couldn't see nothing, but now you're staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. What happened, where am i? You asked yourself but then you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen. "Shit.." you cursed while looking up seeing a gaping wound and the pool of your own blood.

" I guess this is it for me?" You asked yourself and now you're straring at the ceiling once again. Your comms are broken you can't call for help and now you're hearing someone in the house, now you're began to panic who will it be, the enemy? Or one of your teammates?

"Y/n?"

You knew that voice. That was Fender, the man you went to many missions, the man you playfully flirted with in that shitty bar. You're not gonna lie, you liked that man more than you should, and you don't want him to see you like this.

"Basszus, ne ne ne..." He said while running to you, you have no idea what he said. Now he's trying to help you, but you already lost too much blood, you know you won't make it out of here. "Fender stop. It's already too late."

" What? No! I will help you no matter what, you're my teammate i can't let you die here. And besides who's gonna flirt with me if you leave?" He tried to joke and it did make you chukle a little " i'm sure somebody will" now you're feeling weaker and the man sees that you're getting more pale, he knows you're right he just can't accept it.

Now he's pulling you close to his chest, this is the first time of being so close to him. You're so cold but he's so warm, you don't want him to let go of you. "I'm sorry for not telling you this sooner but, i like you y/n. I really do" you began to see him a little blurry are you crying? You can't feel it. You want to say that you like him too but nothing comes out of you mouth.

" Y/n if you have to go, i'll let you go but i promise you angyal, one day we will meet again" you can't hear anything other than the ringing sound, you have no idea what is he saying he became more blurry now. You raised your hand weakly, you wanted to touch his face but your hand immedately became numb and when it dropped back to your side everything stopped.

Now you can't feel pain, you're not numb, your ear isn't ringing, and you see clearly. Everything is okay now. But it isn't for The man who's currently still holding your body close to his chest knowing one day he will see you once again.

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End notes

Translating

Angyal-angel

Basszus.. ne ne ne- shit.. no no no