#and there are no templars to keep us apart

[vilnan]

ok but anders' romance dialogue is on another level, damn

[kostevysen]

HETALIA ASK BLOG DIRECTORY (PART 1)

CREDITS TO @cafekitsune FOR THE DIVIDER (Please let me know if you want it removed!!)

★ MASTERLIST

Hi! I'm apart of a new and growing community of Hetalia ask blogs, you might have already seen us if you've ever stumbled upon the #hws ask blog tag! Due to fairly low engagement, we decided having a fully accessible masterlist/directory was a good thing to let you get to know us! Please keep in mind, the blogs on this list DO NOT INDULGE IN NSFW OR 18+ INTERACTIONS.

THE BLOGS (In Alphabetical order | A - P)

Austria 🇦🇹

— @askthearistocrat

America 🇺🇸

— @ask-the-hero-america

— @ask-hws-america

— @ask-nyo-america (Nyo)

Australia 🇦🇺

— @asktheoutbackhimbo

Belarus 🇧🇾

— @g-rlanachronism

Canada 🇨🇦

— @maplesyrupandsnow

China 🇨🇳

— @hws-china-but-awesome

Cyprus 🇨🇾

— @ask-cyprus

Czechia / Czech Republic 🇨🇿

— @hyphenssuck

Denmark 🇩🇰

— @ask-nyotaliadenmark (Nyo)

— @ask-therulerofscandinavia

England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

— @ask-hws-england

— @ask-arthur-kirkland

— @ask-nyo-england-aster-kirkland (Nyo)

Egypt 🇪🇬

— @ask-gypt

Estonia ��🇪

— @hws-estonia

— @ask-computer-nerd-estonia

Finland 🇫🇮

— @askfinandhana

France 🇫🇷

— @francisbonnefoyforreal

Germany 🇩🇪

— @ask-2p-ger (2p/Secondplayer)

Greece 🇬🇷

— @askthesleepynation

Hungary 🇭🇺

— @elizabeta-hedervary

Hong Kong 🇭🇰

— @ask-dork-kong

Iceland 🇮🇸

— @ask-aph-hws-iceland

Ireland 🇮🇪

— @ask-hws-eire

Indonesia 🇮🇩

— @ask-hws-indonesia

Italy (Veneziano) 🇮🇹

— @ask-the-little-italian (Includes Chibitalia as well)

— @ask2pitalyblog (2p/Secondplayer)

— @italy-kin-blog

Italy (Romano) 🇮🇹

— @asking-italia-romano

— @ask-hws-romano

Japan 🇯🇵

— @askthesunrisenation

Kugelmugel

— @ask-the-spherical-nation

Knights Templar ⚔️

— @heavens-official-serenade

Latvia 🇱🇻

— @askthelittlegenius

Liechtenstein 🇱🇮

— @thelittleliechtensteiner

Lithuania 🇱🇹

— @asktolys

Luxembourg 🇱🇺

— @ask-hws-luxembourg

Macau 🇲🇴

— @ask-the-business-man

Mexico 🇲🇽 [OC]

— @askthemexican

Molossia

— @ask-the-most-badass-nation

Monaco 🇲🇨

— @ask-le-rocher

Netherlands 🇳🇱

— @aph-hws-nederland

Norway 🇳🇴

— @ask-hws-norge

New Zealand 🇳🇿

— @asknzmate

Philippines 🇵🇭

— @ask-the-pearloftheorient

Prussia

— @ask-the-awesome-prussian

Portugal 🇵🇹

— @aph-portugeese-of-wine

(If you want to be added to or removed from the list, please contact me!)

[POST 1/2]

— Navigate to Part 2 (T - S & Others)

[feel free to reblog! <3]

[sewermageboy]

Honestly for ~ 90% of the choices in the games I don't even care that they won't be relevant in Veilguard, or that they're not using the Keep. It's a different part of the world, it's been 10 years, they didn't want to have to account for too many variables, I get that.

But the choices they did leave out feel SO directly relevant for Veilguard? Like, if Morrigan or Inky drank from the Well is gonna massively affect how they see the Evanuris. Whether Kieran exists also changes Morrigan's whole outlook. Whether Hawke is dead or not would have so much effect on Varric. Whether Divine Victoria abolished the Circles, reinstated them, or is even a mage herself would completely change how the Tevinter Chantry sees the southern one.

Like. This means that apart from the three very lackluster choices we were given, NOTHING else will be brought up again (which would mean that they'd have to sand down Morrigan and Varrics personalities to the point of becoming unrecognizable for example), OR they'd have to go with a default world state.

Again, don't care about most of the choices we could make not being in the game, but there's a justified feeling of anger there. The games lead us to believe some choices are more important than others, that they're essentially THE most important choices you can make: Doing the dark ritual with Morrigan and deciding who will rule Ferelden in DAO, siding with mages or templars and killing or letting Anders go in DA2, and in DAI it's mage/templar again, who you leave in the Fade, who becomes ruler of Orlais, who becomes Divine, and who drinks from the Well. And NONE of these choices matter. That's the part that sucks.

[chanafehs]

can you tell us more about your rook, and her relationship with asma??

*tucks hair behind ear* well if you want to know...I know DA4 doesn't care about any lore I'm creating but Manat was orphaned during the Mage-Templar war and was discovered by Asma and her companions during their journey through the hinterlands. Manat was only 15 at the time but held off against Templars and Apostates until being rescued - already showing promise as a warrior.

She was brought back to Haven and escaped to Skyhold with the rest of the Inquisition, eventually becoming a maid for a bit of coin. That's where their relationship takes off because Asma is the only one who can really get a word out of her. Josephine at some point insists that Asma as Inquisitor should take up a lady-in-waiting for appearances and to help with her daily tasks around Skyhold. Manat has no skills that would make her good for this role but Asma chooses her anyway, if anything it's more to keep an eye on her.

The relationship becomes less professional and more maternal before either of them can really realize it (Asma insisting she brush her hair, teaching Manat Elven, reading her books—education is important—and playing the occasional game together). Asma is a bit of a strict parent but Manat loves to push her buttons sometimes, she's a kid that's what they do.

Towards the end of Inquisition, Asma knows Manat has no family and nowhere to go so she promises the girl that she can come with her when all of this is over. Trespasser ends up pulling them apart - Asma can't be found for some months after the exalted council and by the time she returns, Manat is already gone. I don't know if you've ever seen that quote that's like "I'm not your mother" "I know that, do you?" because that's very them. This definitely won't cause problems between them in the Veilguard/sarcasm.

Thank you for the ask!🫶❤️

[teecupangel]

Hi teacup, so I was looking at some of your posts the other day when I heard my sibling playing Minecraft with their friends. These two things happening at the same time sparked an idea.

Enderman Desmond

I just came out of the gym so let's use the blood and creative juices that are flowing in my brain right now.

You know the typical, Des dies, goes back in time as a creature of our choice. Here Desmond is a 3 meters (10 feet) tall pitch black humanoid with really big arms and legs. And he can teleport too!

I really like Endermen, they're my favorite mob. I even have a plushie of one. They're chill and oddly cute until you look at them in the eyes then they turn into a horror movie monster.

I'm picturing Desmond looking like a mix of the many Endermen redesigns or realistic interpretations you can find. Tall and thin, inhuman proportions on the limbs, digitigrade legs clawed hands and feet, his hands don't look or have human proportions, big ol' eyes, and a face and skull are a mix of human and cat, in the sense that it looks kinda flat and you assume it's small until they yawn and you see all of their big teeth and big jaw angle.

Also like cats (and Altaïr) they don't like water, which I find hilarious. And makes sense since The End looks like a desert. So they probably don't know how to swim (like Altaïr) either. (He doesn't take damage from water cause that would be really inconvenient).

Now that I think about it cats also don't like seeing other creatures straight in the eyes. And Endermen do chirp chatter hiss and growl like cats do apart from their crooning. Mischievous and curious like cats since they go around stealing blocks...

Oh stars, Endermen are freaking cats

Des would be a really scary temple guardian to the templars and assassins. Plus he would inspire so many tales and myths about ghosts and tall creatures that disappear when you look directly at them. Maybe a new saying like "don't look the dark in the eyes".

Assassins are already deadly but being able to teleport would make Desmond so broken. And maybe his Endermen purple eyes and particles become golden when touching The Apple and other Isu tech.

Desmond certainly likes being able to teleport and blend in the night but his new instinct makes him unable to look at or be looked at in the eyes.

Altaïr becomes very paranoid cause he keeps seeing from the corner of his eyes the creature in the temple that gave him the apple but when he turns his head to look at it it disappears to only leave purple dust and particles.

Maybe Desmond is transported along with some Chorus fruit and since he is unsure at the beginning what his new body can and cannot eat he cultivates it in secret. And when Al Mualim is defeated a new assassin myth comes forth of a creature of the dark and shadows gifting the brotherhood with a fruit that gives them the gift of traveling in the blink of an eye when consumed. (Which is ironic considering that the temple had the apple of Eden)

I have so many ideas for Enderman!Desmond and Changeling!Desmond. I love to worldbuild.

I kinda like the idea of him being something that cannot is part of the world but, at the same time, not.

Let’s lean into the nightmare feel of an Enderman that doesn’t exist in their world.

Desmond cannot be ‘fully’ seen most of the time. At best, he appears on the corner of one’s eye. Only when he attacks a specific person that people can turn to look at him and, even then, he’s usually shrouded in darkness. Mostly because he always appears during the dark since that’s the perfect cover.

But there is also a ‘requirement’ for Desmond to attack. His target needs to look at him for at least a quarter of a second or attack in his general direction.

Of course, he can decide not to attack and all that happens is that he disappears after a second or so after someone has different maintained eye contact with him.

He can’t technically control his teleportation skills as well. Most of the time, he teleport inside of moving and his will to attack someone makes him come near the target. Instinctively, he knows when he’s going to be attacked and he can teleport instantaneously like an auto-dodge of some sort. It can only work twice in succession before getting a short cooldown though.

He can be harmed like usual and when he’s harmed enough times (which is a rarity), he disappears from their world.

To Desmond, it’s like he goes to sleep. When he returns, all his wounds are gone and he’s usually sent back 24 hours from his disappearance, near the one who hit him last.

When he disappears after finishing his target or a second has passed without him attacking the one who stared him down, he would return like he just took a nap.

As for his teleportation mechanics, no one knows when and why he appears. Desmond himself ‘dreams’ of his ancestors and the people he knew (or his ancestors knew) while he’s napping/sleeping and he appears when he wants to, the location always being the current ‘dream’.

The reason why he exists in a perpetual state of ‘nonbeing’ is because his status as an Enderman is because he failed to anchor himself to a specific time after being the Reader for so long. This failed anchoring changed his Reader appearance to one of an Enderman and he’s forever drifting in the endless timeline seen through the Gray, only able to ‘visit’ them for a short time.

The worst part?

Because of his failed attempt to anchor himself, he forgot everything he did as the Reader.

Including why he tried to be part of the timeline again.

[abyssal-ilk]

I really wish a Dalish Elf could point out to Vivienne that the only reason Clans keep minimal mages is because they want to avoid Templars pulling up and massacre-ing everyone for harboring a bunch of apostates. I wish I could know what her reaction is to that particular detail she leaves out. She would probably have a new excuse locked and loaded but I wish I could hear it.

going to use this ask to complain about the treatment dalish mages get in dragon age inquisition, because the idea that the dalish cast out their mages when there are "too many of them" is something bioware completely pulled out of their ass for dai. in previous games and dragon age media, the dalish are shown to be nothing but accepting and protective of their mages, no matter how many mages there are in a single clan. the idea that the dalish would cast out a young child (in the case of minaeve, the creature specialist in haven) or an adult mage (in the case of dalish from the bull's chargers) because there are supposedly "too many mages" in one clan is. ridiculous.

i do fully agree that the dialogue options an elven inquisitor are given during that conversation are like. extremely bad, though. bc they are. but it's such a break off from the already established lore of how the dalish treat the mages in their clan that i can't get past it long enough to genuinely pick apart vivienne's reaction to it because. that's just. not how dalish mages were treated previously. but yes, the dialogue options should of been different.

edit: this was originally just in my tags, but i figure i'd add this bit too incase this is reblogged

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I'm back on my bullshit thinking about the Hawke siblings again and how much I love a "both twins live" AU... but y'know what I love just a little bit more? An AU where all three Hawke siblings are alive, but one of the twins still get attacked by the ogre in Lothering and is presumed dead when they actually survived.

I like to think that since the narrative in DA2 is framed as a story Varric's telling Cassandra, we can play around with the fact that he's an unreliable narrator. Varric wasn't there in Lothering. He only knows what Hawke told him. It makes for a better story if Leandra, Hawke, and the surviving twin get to huddle around the dead twin and say their goodbyes... especially if they didn't actually get to do that. I mean, a lot of us already have that train of thought when it comes to Leandra's death and Hawke getting some closure through her final words telling them how proud she is. Whose to say Varric didn't do that for the lost twin, as well?

All that to ask what if the ogre attack happened, but the group was so overwhelmed by darkspawn they had to flee further and couldn't check the twin who "died?" Flemeth still showed up, but it was too late to go back and say goodbye.... so Hawke made a deal with the Witch of the Wilds and they all pushed forward to Kirkwall.

Imagine Bethany, left behind with broken bones and bleeding in the sand, fading in and out of consciousness as the remaining darkspawn surround her. She knows how to heal, how to fight back, but she's weakened. Her staff lays out of reach. Air shakes in her lungs. She tries to call for help, but only wheezes come out. Where's her mother? Her siblings? Did the ogre get them, too?

At this point, we all know what happens to the women darkspawn take, and Bethany could've met that fate; she doesn't have the strength to fight back as they drag her away. But before they can bring her underground, she's saved by another group of survivors. Perhaps they're more soldiers fleeing Ostagar, or townsfolk who recognize her from Lothering. They do what they can to treat her wounds but she needs a healer, so they bring her with them to seek refuge in Redcliffe... except they eventually realize she's an apostate. Well, she doesn't seem dangerous, but they still contact the templars.

Bethany wakes in a warm but unfamiliar bed with skilled healers tending to her. Templars hover by the doorway. First Enchanter Irving greets her, gentle in explaining she's safe inside of Kinloch Hold and that she's going to survive. When Bethany asks about her family, he gives her a sympathetic smile and says they only found her.

Bethany, who never took to embracing her magic the way her older sibling did and always felt like it burdened her family... has lost that very family. Could they survive the ogre and darkspawn? Or did the ogre tear them apart, too? How did she survive... but not them? Did the Maker really have such a sense of humor? How else would she end up in the Circle, a place her family went to great lengths to keep her safe from?

She doesn't want to think about it. She hopes they made it to Kirkwall, but the prickle of dread that crawls up her spine knows how unlikely it is. Bethany finds comfort in speaking with the mages who rotate in to heal and bring her food. Some feel trapped by their magic just as she does, but others remind her of her older sibling in the way they embrace their magic, a gift from the Maker. The younger apprentices who aid the mages ask her questions about what lies beyond the walls. The templars mostly keep their distance, but one is friendlier than others. A man with curly blonde hair and a sympathetic view of the mages bothers to speak to her more than his fellows do.

She's still in recovery when Uldred and his blood mages attack the tower, but she survives. Bethany heals, even as she's haunted by nightmares of the ogre wrapping its tainted hand around her body to crush her, flinging her aside to lay among the limp bodies of her family... haunted by the horrors the blood mages unleashed on the tower. She aids in restoring the tower the best she can, and accepts her new home, her new life. When she's well enough, she lights a candle for each of them; her father, mother, her eldest sibling, her twin... she even lights a candle for the family mabari, and prays to the Maker to give them her love as they stand at His side.

The Blight ends. Years pass. Bethany settles into her new life, becoming a fine example for the younger apprentices she mentors. She witnesses wrong doings against her fellow mages, loses friends to their harrowings or tranquility. She accepts what she is, even if bitterly. The Chantry's teachings about magic scar more than enlighten; she sees it in some of her fellow mages, feels it in herself. Secret meetings. Whispers of escape, of freedom. More escape attempts. Harsher restrictions.

Around this time, back in Kirkwall, Knight-Captain Cullen stands where he always does in the Gallows courtyard. He notices Hawke appear with some of their companions. It hurts to think back to Kinloch Hold, but something occurs to him: he knew of another Hawke who was brought to the Circle while he served there. They only spoke once before... well, before. He wonders if there's any relation. When Hawke wanders over to speak to him, as they always do, Cullen brings it up.

Hawke pales. A beat of silence. Cullen recognizes heartbreak; he sees it unfold in their eyes and swell in their throat as they realize that all this time, their baby sister was alive.

Then the day comes where new whispers float among the mages in the Circle. A visit by a Grey Warden. Most, including Bethany, assume he's here to recruit... until Irving comes to her. He says this warden's requested, though more like insisted, he see her now. But then Irving smiles; the warden in question said his name is Warden Carver. He received an urgent letter that his sister is here, alive, and he demands to know if that's true.

Bethany nearly collapses when she sees him.

While the reunion can't last; she can't leave the Circle and he has his calling; the twins embrace, sobbing out apologies and exclamations that they thought the other was gone. Carver tells her of Kirkwall, the expedition that led him to the Grey Wardens, and their older sibling's status as Champion. With a gentleness she never knew her brother to have, he tells her what happened to their mother, and more tears flow freely. Their sibling learned about her from a templar, though Carver grumbles that the bastard could've said something sooner.

There's the Maker's humor again.

...Now flip the script: imagine Carver being left behind instead.

For as strong and passionate as he is, that ogre still picks him up and slams him to the ground. Bones crack. Black splotches flood his vision, agony exploding across his skin. His sword flies from his hand. The soulless bastard tosses Carver aside like he's nothing, and he's left to lay there. His mother's cries muffle in his ear as though he's stuck underwater, sinking slowly into the dark.

It figured, honestly... that he'd survive Ostagar while his fellow soldiers were cut down all around him, that he and his eldest sibling would flee the field when all hope was lost... that he'd make it home to get his family out of Lothering... only to die protecting his mother. And why not? He is a protector. A warrior. It's a honor to die saving those he loved... so why didn't it give him peace?

Carver eventually wakes in the night among the bodies of fallen darkspawn. Everything aches painfully hot and his thoughts reject coherency. He knows his family is gone; they're dead, or they've fled... either way, he's alone; left behind. Something's broken inside of him, but he has just enough will to pull himself up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A group of survivors find him- funny enough, the same group who aided Bethany in an alternate timeline. Imagine that.

That's how Carver ended up in Redcliffe's Chantry with an overworked healer tending to him. He doesn't even flinch when the mage works their magic on him, knowing all too well the sensation of healing magic seeping into his skin, mending the flesh. He tries not to think of Bethany, or what might've happened to her.

The Chantry's overwhelmed with townspeople hiding from a danger outside that he can only assume is darkspawn... except it's not. He wonders how hard he hit his head when he hears the undead have come from the castle to slaughter what they can of the town every night. But then he sees it with his own eyes when one breaks in, taken down by a templar, and never before has he ever felt so useless.

Then the last two remaining Grey Wardens arrive. They're crucial in the final fight against the undead, swearing to enter the castle to stop the attacks at the source. While Carver couldn't participate in the final fight, something he complained loudly about, he did what he could in his condition to help like sharpening swords and handing out supplies. Mostly to keep his sanity and quite his thoughts throughout his recovery.

When the time came, he took up his sword again in the name of all those he lost.

An archdemon was said to be on the horizon, and the Grey Wardens needed everyone they could get to fight. Carver fights in the battle of Denerim where the Hero of Fereldan defeated the archdemon. He cuts his way through every darkspawn he sees. Ostagar flashes red behind his eyes. Lothering clutches at his heart. So much anger and sorrow built up inside him, flooding out in his tears and screams. Blood everywhere. Fire and smoke.

Then it's over.

In the aftermath of the Blight, like so many others, Carver has no home to return to. No family. He thinks to go back to Lothering to help rebuild, only to hear the lands were too tainted. These tainted creatures took everything from him... That's what eventually brings him to Vigil's Keep, standing before the Hero of Fereldan themself, asking to be made a Grey Warden. He already dedicated nearly two years of his life to killing darkspawn, and he had nothing else. Even when faced with the Joining, holding the chalice of darkspawn blood and being told to drink, he didn't flinch.

Life as a Grey Warden isn't as simple as he assumed it would be, but Carver finds purpose in his calling. Over the years, he grows to view his fellow wardens as family. He travels all over Thedas, venturing down into the Deep Roads to help clear out hoards of the darkspawn. But then comes the day he finds himself in Kirkwall, and it doesn't take long before he hears the name Hawke on the lips of the townspeople. His eldest sibling was not only alive, but they're quite popular among the people. But what about Mother? Bethany? He doesn't have to snoop too far to learn templars took Bethany away to the Gallows, and that Leandra Hawke was the final victim in a string of murders committed by a blood mage.

Carver finds himself standing outside the estate, glaring at the door. Furious. Heartbroken. Bitter. He wants to scream. This entire time, they lived. He's torn between wanting to reunite with his older sibling again, to get the truth from them, and wanting to barge into the estate, demanding answers to how they could let the Circle take Bethany... after what Carver sacrificed, how could they let Mother die like that? Was it all pointless in the end?

He leaves without knocking. He can't bring himself to see them. Not that it mattered. Before he could leave Kirkwall, the tensions with the qunari finally overflowed, and chaos fell upon the city. He's forced face to face with his older sibling again, but he wasn't prepared to watch the recognition slowly bloom on their face, or for all his anger to turn to mush. Carver's the first to speak.

"Somehow, I knew it would be you."

.............So, yeah. I really like this idea.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Funeral Preparations One

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream

Warnings: Feelings of being overwhelmed, grief, funerary practices, consumption of humans (ashes), mention of cremation, hurt/comfort

Summary: Cedric talks to Lykus about his dead brothers and funerary practices. 

Cedric made his way to the beautiful church where he’d encountered Chaplain Lykus, silently wishing that he was seeking the other out for less unhappy reasons. The young Black Templar paused in the entrance room of the church, allowing himself a couple of moments to once more silently appreciate the beautiful stained-glass images that made the windows of the church. 

Feeling slightly calmer, he made his way over to Lykus’ office, knocking on the door and waiting for the other marine to acknowledge him.

“Please come in.” The Word Bearer called out a couple of moments later.

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded before obeying. He closed the door quietly behind himself as he walked over to one of the chairs in front of Lykus’ desk and sat in the one made for Astartes, trying to keep a calm expression on his face. 

Lykus smiled a little as he looked Cedric over. “Good afternoon Cedric. What can I do to help you?”

Cedric fidgeted with the bandages on his hands a little, as he’d decided to wrap up his skinned knuckles after his brief fight with Algrets earlier today rather than waiting for them to heel… And it was bad form to show up to a strange Chaplain’s office visibly injured. And not tended to. It invited scrutiny and potential punishment. “I…I’ve come to make a request.”

“Is this about finding a time and day where you and your Brothers can gather to worship without dealing with comments and judgment?” Lykus asked curiously.

“... It is somewhat related to that.” Cedric answered, biting the inside of one of his cheeks until it bled. The physical pain helped him keep his roiling emotions in check. He wanted to keep his voice even and calm, and show no outward signs of distress or emotional weakness. It would slow things down, and Lykus was not the only person he needed to talk to today. 

“Please explain, and I’ll offer what assistance I am able to… Are you alright? You seem… Unsettled.” Lykus asked, his gaze lingering on the bandages that Cedric was fidgeting with.

“I am functional.” The young apothecary answered as he immediately put his hands in his lap, out of the other’s line of sight. He swallowed hard, mentally counting to ten before answering in as even and unemotional a tone of voice as he could manage “Recently, two Black Templars arrived on Holy Terra, critically wounded. Despite every effort to save them, both died. I, and the rest of the unofficial Crusade who live here in Gannet Point would like to put them to rest properly, in the manner that our chapter does. I was hoping to have the memorial service portion of that completed here, within this church, if you are willing. There would be maybe a dozen people attending, most if not all of them being Astartes. The service would not be longer than an hour, as both Black Templars who died  were apprentices… The term I believe your legion uses is Scouts, so the recitation of their deeds and greatest battles will not… Not take very long.”

Lykus seemed to be listening intently to Cedric as he spoke. Once he finished, the Word Bearer took a long sip from the astartes-sized thermos on his desk and swallowed before answering “Do you know when you would like the service to be held? Apart from Sunday mass and Wednesday bible studies, most of this next week is fairly open, though there are smaller services that are going on for an hour or two at a time throughout the week, most of them can easily be rescheduled due to an event like this. What is the plan for their bodies, once the service is over?”

“Their bodies will be burnt to ash and the remains will be forged into Blades of Remembrance per the custom of our chapter.” Well… Some of their remains would be used in forging Blades of Remembrance the rest would be consumed as part of the remembrance feast, but that was going to be taken place after the bodies had been cremated and the blades forged and tested. Cedric was keenly aware of the fact that consuming the dead was not a practice that most Astartes chapters practiced except under dire circumstances, or to get information from the dead. “But the burning of their bodies and forging of the blades will happen elsewhere.”

“I see. Do you have an idea as to where their bodies are going to be burnt? The baseline mortals have laws about where such a task can be completed, for a variety of reasons.” Lykus revealed, having slowly gotten up out of his chair and started to walk around his desk, moving closer to Cedric. He sat down in the chair next to Cedric’s.

“... Oh. I hadn’t known that.” Cedric responded, shifting a little in his seat, trying not to visibly tense up at the other’s approach. “I… I’ll have to.. Research an appropriate place, then. Which is probably going to delay the memorial service and-” It felt as if there was a never ending list of things that he had to do in order to try and ensure that his brothers could properly Rest - or come back and serve in another way, should their spirits decide to inhabit one of the Blades of Remembrance forged with their remains, as that did happen occasionally. 

“I do have the phone number for several different funeral homes and crematoriums. Funerals and other kinds of rituals involving mourning the loss of a loved one are commonly held in churches and similar places of worship such as this one in M3.” Lykus explained, voice gentle and… He sounded almost coaxing? As if he was trying to coax a spooked serf out of an air vent after a minor misstep that they weren’t going to be punished for accidentally committing. “If you wish, I can either introduce you to the mortals in charge of those places I know, or give you their numbers so you can talk to them at your own pace.”

Cedric stared at the carpeted floor of Lykus’ office as he tried to make that decision. On one hand, part of him balked at the implication that he needed someone to help him talk to baseline humans. On the other, the young Apothecary was struggling to keep a handle on the roiling warp-storm his emotions had become after… After Lestras and Malachai had both been found and he’d been unable to save them. He was still seething at the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to observe as Chief Apothecary Melinth and several other firstborn Apothecaries did their best to save Malachai. “I…” His voice cracked and his eyes stung and burned fiercely as a wave of emotions he could not name threatened to overwhelm him.

Lykus dragged Cedric out of his seat and pressed his face to one of the Word Bearer’s robed shoulders “Easy… Easy. I’ve got you,young one. You’re going through a great deal right now - please don’t try to fight me, I am trying to comfort you. I’m honored that you reached out to me… But isn’t there a chaplain in the base you live in you could go to, to help you arrange things?”

“I do! Ramiel is doing his best, but he… He’s also struggling with the loss of two of our Brothers as well. Even… Even though they’d only just arrived on Holy Terra.” Losing them twice was a unique form of torment for both Ramiel and himself. Cedric felt a little strange, being held by the older Marine, but the hug didn’t feel threatening… Also hiding his face in the other’s shoulder helped Cedric keep pressure on the emotional fissures running through his hearts “He’s also going through his chaplaincy trials.”

“... Are you referring to the Chaplain in training? I’ve met him a couple of times, and he’s a clever and good-hearted lad, but to arrange something like this might be a little out of his area of training on his own.” Lykus murmured, a small frown appearing on his face. 

“That’s why I’m helping him by finding a place to hold the ceremony, and apparently a place to have Malachai’s and Lestra’s bodies burnt without causing problems… And before you say anything, I am aware of the fact that there are facilities on base to process dead astartes. But I don’t want them to handle their bodies. They’ve done quite enough already.” Ah. That was a lot of bitterness leaking in his voice. 

Lykus’ arms tightened around Cedric, but it didn’t feel restricting in a worrying or threatening manner. “I see.” 

There’s an astartes sized hand on Cedric’s head, now. Fingers running through his hair. It feels… It feels soothing, and why can’t he stop crying today? This is the second time in a handful of hours his tear ducts have decided to leak all over a firstborn Space Marine. It was embarrassing, and something that he would need to look into, later. “We’re doing our best… Just gotta get it done quickly.” Cedric didn’t want either Malachai’s or Lestra’s bodies to mysteriously disappear, if they lingered for too long in the base’s morgue. He’d denied others their desire to tear apart their bodies once, after all. They might give into temptation, the longer it was there. “Ramiel says it’s going to take him several days to get the stuff he needs together so… Maybe on Saturday? I’ll have a firmer answer for you tomorrow, or the day after. And… Assistance in speaking with the mortals would be nice. I don’t know how to negotiate with them for goods and services.”

Lykus hummed in acknowledgement, still hugging Cedric. “Alright. I’ll arrange for meetings. When are you up to speaking with them? I should be able to get an appointment sometime this week.”

“I’m going to be working in the clinic for the next several days, but that’s only from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon, so I’ll be available outside of those times easily. If they’ll only meet sometime during it I… I can either ask Ramiel to go instead, or sneak out for the appointment time. Hura and Zariel’d cover for me, as long as the appointments don’t take too long.” Cedric murmured. He tensed a little as he realized that he admitted to being willing to skive off of his assigned duties to a chaplain - even thinking such things was a sin worthy of punishment. He swallowed hard and waited. 

Lykus only hummed again in response, the hand in Cedric’s hair still gentle and soothing. “I’ll keep that in mind, while arranging the appointments. Is there anything else I can do to help you and your brother Ramiel during this time?”

“I… I don’t think so? At least, not on my end. I’ll tell Rami to come talk to you. He may need help with Chaplain Things that he can’t or won’t talk to me about ‘cause I’m not a chaplain.” Cedric answered earnestly. He snuffled a little, pressing his face a little harder into the other’s shoulder, his body shaking a little. 

“Alright. Well, if you do think of something, or if something comes up, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” Lykus hummed “Do you have any pressing matters to handle today?”

“Need to tell my Crusade leaders’ ‘bout the dead Brothers. They live with their bonded in the city. They… Don’t know yet. Gotta do that before sundown. ‘Cause the Base Commander’s given me a curfew to be back at the base by.” Cedric responded, anger - an old and familiar feeling of his breaking through the misery he was trying not to drown in - spiking.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” The chaplain asked curiously.

“Got into a fight with a Space Wolf ‘cause he was being a shitty bastard about my dead brothers. He whined about not getting to cut them up with his mentor and I… Didn’t react well to his complaints.” Cedric admitted. He refused to apologize for striking and strangling the fucker.

“I can understand why that would upset you. Space Wolves, while brilliant fighters are… Difficult to endure in certain social situations.” Lykus hummed. The Word Bearer seemed content to hold Cedric for forever, it seemed.

Which was nice, if a little disconcerting. He hasn’t hugged someone who wasn’t a fellow Primaris Marine this long… Ever. The other’s embrace was helping him find balance, at least for now. Much as he’d like to linger for as long as the Chaplain would tolerate, Cedric was starting to feel ravenous . Which was odd, as he’d been feeling mildly nauseous during the morning (before and during his brothers’ autopsies) and had then been too upset to so much as think about eating anything… “I should go and get something to eat, then talk to my Crusade leaders. I… Thank you, for your help, and for… This.” He squeezed the Word Bearer gently “It’s… It’s helped quite a bit.”

“I do have some astartes-grade snacks in my desk, if you’d like company while you eat.” Lykus offered with a gentle smile, slowly letting Cedric go.

The Primaris marine shook his head as he slowly got up “Thank you for the offer sir, but I should eat a full meal.”

“Very well. Thank you for coming to me, and I’ll message you when the appointments are scheduled.” Lykus murmured, smiling a little.

“Thank you sir.” Cedric answered with a nod, hurriedly wiping the tears from his face before leaving. He planned on stopping by the base to eat and change - as he’d managed to partially soak his own shirt with his tears, and even though the walk over would dry it… The last thing he wanted to do was to show up in Roland’s Beloved’s bakery smelling of tears (and Word Bearer) with red-rimmed eyes. He’s pretty sure that would end really badly.

[sundrop-writes]

TWD Taglist!!

So, I am still on hiatus, and I will be until the end of July (at least) - but even though I am not posting fics, I have been writing fics (because for me, it's like breathing, I can't stop it) - and I do have some stuff I have been holding onto that I haven't had the chance to edit yet. So I will be coming back with some TWD fics when I come back from my hiatus, and I figured it would be wise to start my taglist for this fandom now.

If you want to be put on my taglist for The Walking Dead, please let me know by replying to this post, liking this post, or interacting with this post in some way. Please make sure that you have your mentions turned on in settings - I will send you a single reminder message about this, and if you don't respond to my message, you will not be added to the taglist.

Please keep in mind: I do not do taglists for each individual character. Right now, the only fics I have cooking are for Daryl x Reader, but I am planning on writing more for Glenn x Reader (and Gleggie x Reader) and I really, really want to write for Rosita x Reader (cause I haven't done a full blown fic for her character before and I really want to) - so if you are signing up to this taglist, then you will be notified for fics about all of these characters.

Here are the fics you will be signing up to be tagged in when those fics are posted:

Heaven's Gate - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 1 through Season 5. 17k in counting, oneshot. Finished, needs to be edited. You and Daryl get separated when the prison falls, and though you both think that the other is dead, you end up finding each other in the most unlikely place at the most unlikely time. And during your time apart, you have always been carrying pieces of each other that you can't let go of.

Untitled Daryl PWP - Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. PWP/Smut. Set during Season 4. 2k in counting, oneshot. Finished, needs to be edited. Daryl comes to you one day with an oddly needy spark, and though it's unusual for him, you can't help but to love it. (aka - Daryl eats pussy like a man starved.)

Untitled Daryl Smut aka The Blowjob Scene from Night of The Templar - Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (with some Glenn Rhee x Fem!Reader). Friends to FWB. PWP/Smut. Set 'during' Season 1 (before the main events of S1). 1k in counting, oneshot. Not finished. Basically, I found out that a really popular slutty audio of Norman/Daryl from tiktok is from this movie scene, so I am taking that scene and translating it to TWD. Daryl finds out that the reader used to be a prostitute before 'the shit hit the fan', so he asks for 'a sample' - and she blows him while Glenn watches.

[glamfellens]

anders dragon age really just comes in and drops lines like “i’d drown us in blood to keep you safe”, “this is the rule i’ll most cherish breaking”, “i wish we could stay like this forever love”, “one day someone like you and someone like me can be together with no templars to tear us apart” and im supposed to be normal about it

[mourn-and-watch]

Would you pls tell us your thoughts and opinions on Carver? I too love him, he's so prickly and fighting so hard all the time to keep his head above the water and keep his remainibng sibling alive and free, and a lot of DA fans are so down on him because "oh he's grumpy though:(".

oh i'm always happy to talk about carver!

actually, i love that he's grumpy! and i also firmly believe that bethany is grumpy as well but it is overlooked in the same way carver's reasons to be grumpy are, but it's a topic for another day. anyway!

his whole deal - being a younger sibling who tires to fulfill the role of cool-headed one, who at the same time is still obviously young and too hot-tempered - hits a little too close to home sometimes, to be honest, and this is what i really really like about him. he is a character who genuinely tries his best, but fails because of how unexperienced and flawed he is (and how he doesn't have time or proper conditions to work on it in act 1, considering the situation his family is trapped in). he tries to join the guard, but gets turned down, he follows hawke everywhere to help them, he's also the one who cares about going on the expedition the most, because he realises that it's their best chance to make sure their family survives - and if he doesn't join it as well, he becomes a templar first of all out of necessity, because at this point he ran out of options and there's no guarantee his sibling will come back with enough money to restore their nobility status.

he is often rude and insensitive around hawke and their friends and his words and petty passive aggressive insults sound so childish, because, well, he was what, eighteen when the blight happened and he witnessed the ostagar massacre and also lost his father and sister? he hasn't still, you know, fully grown up, he's still so young and has so much bottled-up anger and trauma already, because his family has been living under constant stress his whole life and it has never got better. he may come across as pro-templar considering his approval and comments, but when you get to see the whole picture, aka his development through all acts, you can understand how false that statement is - he's genuinely terrified of losing hawke as well, and pro-mage hawke constantly puts themself in harm's way and sticks their neck out for people they barely know, and if it ends badly, nobody will be able to do anything about it, and carver believes he's the only one who realizes how fucked up their situation is. on top of that, he's always been struggling with feeling overshadowed, and now people who he hangs out with the most are his sibling's friends, not his own, and at least some of them just love to make fun of him and his issues. they tolerate him for being hawke's sibling. they don't care for him for any other reason.

none of it makes his actions and words righteous, though! it makes them understadable and his arc meaningful and satisfying, especially the warden route. i did the templar route once and don't remember the details well, but the point still stands - carver, no matter who he serves, always chooses his family first. and it has weight, it has meaning! because the other very important aspect of carver's character is him searching for his purpose, a desire to become his own person. both wardens and templars offer it to him, and in the end he will abandon his duties - and straight up betray his order in templar's case, and it's not, like, a futile sacrifice. by the end of act 3, it's been six years of his service. and his loyalty to hawke prevails even though they've been apart almost all this time and, as a result, became more distant in one way or another - but his sibling's safety continues to be his priority, even if he doesn't approve of their choices or isn't as close to them as he used to be. they're his only family left, and throughout the course of the plot he learns that it is important not only to care, but also to show he cares before it's too late.

and it's like, the general overall plot arc thing. i also love his dlc batner in act 2/act 3 because you can see how less antagonistic and more chill his dialogue becomes! his pettiness never fades away, for sure, but it's a part of his character i've grown fond of at this point and it's also very heartwarming to see other characters admit it as well. like, yeah, he still gets easily annoyed and still can start an argument, but he's learnt to keep it down when needed and grown to be more understanding. he's also so embarrassed about his past behaviours sometimes, it's genuinely endearing

i've talked about it once, but a lot of da2 character arcs either result in a little and still painful growth or in a straight up decline. and i still love it because, you know, a beauty of a tragedy. but this is also a reason why warden carver is so dear to me. he starts as a very distressed character, stuck in an uncomfortable environment, having no idea what to do with himself anymore, but joining the wardens really makes him shine. he's doing something good now, and he's good at it as well. the realisation of his inevitable warden fate makes him appretiate life and people in it more. among the wardens he's carver hawke, not simply hawke's brother, and he's respected for it. he becomes calmer and wiser, his grudges lose importance and his love for his family isn't tainted by it anymore. his opinion of hawke and relationship with them becomes more mature, and it culminates in his bittersweet speech and farewell before the final battle. it's genuinely a positive, hopeful growth, and while there's a little to no chances we'll see him again in another game, i hope when people in weisshaupt hear hawke family name mentioned, their first thought is about warden hawke, not champion of kirkwall

[seigephoenix]

F!Warden x Leliana & the scent of dried lavender?

Happy Friday! For @dadrunkwriting Here is Briar Amell x Leliana for dried lavender. I do like the smell of it myself so this was a fun prompt.

Content Warnings: wholesome, somewhat sad but it gets better Length: ~1k

The smell would forever remind her of her lover.  Leliana ran her fingers over the letter she’d received from Briar on her journey towards finding a cure.  She’d included a few sprigs of dried lavender and Leliana couldn’t help but remember their first conversation about the flower.

During the Blight

“How do I keep my clothes smelling so good?”  Leliana nodded at the Warden, she truly just wanted to keep talking to her and this seemed like a good conversation starter.  “I use dried lavender.”

“Lavender?” Leliana asked as Briar held up the small sprig of lavender towards her.

“We used it at the Circle when we were forced to share wardrobes.  I always got stuck sharing with one of the boys and it gets…”  Briar waved her hand towards Alistair and her mabari.  Leliana chuckled as she understood without words.  Briar grinned as they heard Alistair’s offended hey in the background as well.  “My mother was the one who showed me how to properly dry them.”

“Your mother?” Leliana asked quietly and Briar sighed.  She thought she’d blundered into a forbidden topic but instead, Briar pulled out a locket.  Inside Leliana saw a beautiful blonde woman who greatly resembled Briar.  Her eyes were alight with a soft emotion that made Leliana’s heart ache seeing it.

“Yes.  From what I gather she died when I was a child.  Outside of her teaching me about lavender, I barely remember the woman.  She came from some posh family in the Free Marches, around Kirkwall I believe.  At least, that’s what the Templar who remembered my coming to the Circle told me.  I could come from gutter trash and never know the difference.”  Leliana’s hands clasped in front of her as she heard Briar talking so nonchalantly about her family.  She didn’t know her mother for very long, but the memories she did have were cherished.  To not have any, Leliana couldn’t imagine that.

“What about your father?” Briar snorted and Leliana worried she brought up more bad memories.

“He’s the one who tossed me into the Circle.  To hear Knight Roland tell the story it was literal.  My father tossed me to the Kirkwall Circle first, but they were full up, so I was transferred to Ferelden’s.  Given everything that’s happened, I’m rather glad I got transferred here.”  She grinned at Leliana giving her a warm flutter in her chest.

Present Time

Since that conversation, Leliana always kept a sachet of dried lavender on her person.  To keep her close to Briar when circumstances forced them to be far apart.  She sorely missed her lover; it had been too many years since they’d last seen one another in person for more than a fleeting moment.  Leliana set the letter down on the table and looked up as the door opened.  “Inquisitor.”

“Leliana, I have a message to pass along for you.”  Leliana noted the amusement in Alissa’s eyes.  She wondered if it had anything to do with Hawke.

“Do you now?  Will this message have anything to do with Hawke?”  Alissa tilted her head as she crossed her arms.

“Now that I think about it, probably.  In a roundabout way it does.  Anyhow, I was told to request your presence at the Herald’s Rest this evening.”  Alissa grinned as Zephyr peeked out from behind her leg and that made Leliana smile.  The child was a bright spot at Skyhold, given he’d found his legs and knew no other speed except sprinting.

“Thank you for the invitation Lady Alissa, but.” Leliana was abruptly cut off by Alissa’s hand.

“You cannot refuse this.  I can make it into an order.”  Leliana laughed at the amusement on the Inquisitor’s face.  She would issue the order, but it would never be with a straight face.  Alissa rarely asked anything of them beyond their duties as her advisors, which infuriated Cullen at times when Alissa went off and did things on her own.  Leliana found it vastly amusing to watch the Commander and Hawke try and lay into Alissa about the consequences of her actions, and her promptly ignoring everything they’d just told her and doing it anyway.

“If you insist, then I shall be there for dinner.”  Alissa thanked her and headed back down to the library to visit with Dorian.  Leliana turned back to the letter and sighed as her heart ached once again.  To see others’ happiness knowing hers is always just beyond her fingertips was a pain she wished on no one.

That Evening at the Herald’s Rest

“Inquisitor?” Leliana asked as she stepped into the tavern.  Instantly her senses picked up on the fact the entire building was empty.  Not even Sera remained.  Leliana tensed on instinct.  Alissa would never ambush her with a trap, at least not in the way Leliana was used to things.  She’d known the woman too long and knew she would never resort to such trickery.  Her eyes scanned the room, but it was a certain scent she caught.  Shock stuttered through her system.  Dried lavender.

“Briar?”

“How did you know?” Leliana whirled at the question and spotted Briar behind her sliding the hood off her head.  “I told the Inquisitor to not say my name, I wanted to surprise you.”  Leliana slammed into the Warden, wrapping her arms tight as she buried her face in her shoulder.  Tears welled in her eyes as Briar’s arms came around her just as tightly.  “I’m home.”

“You.  Your letter said nothing about returning.” Leliana breathed in Briar’s scent, her essence, her.  Just everything.  Everything she’d thought about these last few years was right there in front of her.  Briar’s arms tightened as she turned to brush her lips over Leliana’s temple.

“I couldn’t tell you, then how in Thedas would I be able to surprise you?”  Briar grinned as Leliana stepped back.  “I will say, I’m honestly shocked you didn’t read any of Hawke’s correspondence.”

“Hawke’s?”  Briar laughed as Leliana stepped back.

“Remember I told you that my family came from Kirkwall?”

“I remember you said you thought you came from a posh family in Kirkwall, but Hawke isn’t…”  Leliana paused as she remembered.  “The Amell family.  How are you and Hawke related exactly?”

“Turns out distantly.  Our mothers are cousins.”  Leliana’s jaw dropped.  “So I got Hawke’s help with sneaking into Skyhold underneath the Spymaster’s nose.”  Briar grinned and Leliana had to laugh.

“I will be sure to read his correspondence again.”  Leliana pulled Briar against her once more, savoring that rich and sweet smell.

“Again?”

“I did read his letters until I opened the one written for the Inquisitor.  I decided it best to leave his letters alone for the time being.  I had no need to know that much about their relationship.”  Briar paused for only a second to let the words register before she burst out laughing.  Leliana cupped the side of her face and smiled.  “I have missed hearing that.”

Briar leaned in and touched her forehead to Leliana’s.  “And I have missed you.”

[teecupangel]

So, got another idea. XD What if we take the Monster Hunter asks and the giant snake asks and combine them? XD Dalamandur!Desmond's here to fuck up Templars and save lives!

And since Dalamandur is so huge and his roar summons meteors, Desmond speaks telephaticly to his ancestor/dream shares with them?

Idk if there's stories of giant snakes or snakes in general in 11th century Syria, so idk how Altaïr would react to having dreams of a mountain sized snake talking to him. XD And the snake is weirdly encouraging and tries to tell him to befriend Kadar and Malik more.

Ezio would probably take these dreams as a symbol of the Devil tempting him or something bad, considering the snake tempting Eve to sin is in the Bible. Especially since the snakes tells him he needs to follow it's advice, otherwise his family will die. XD Desmond just worried, because he slept really long and Ezio looks to be 17 and he has no idea what month it is.

Idk about Ratonhnhaké:ton, this is just a quick idea. XD

Here’s Dalamunder (all images from monsterhunter.fandom.com) for those unfamiliar with how the monster look like.

Okay, first of all.

Dalamunder is so big calling it huge is an understatement XD

So I propose Desmond starts off as a baby snakie during Altaïr’s time. And by baby, we all mean he’s already as big as the average size of an adult healthy snake. He also starts learning how to speak telepathically with Altaïr during this time and it all started when the supposed Ark broke apart during the scuffle (with Altaïr distracted by a voice in his head calling his name) and pops the snake.

… that immediately ate whatever was inside the treasure they were ordered to retrieve (steal).

From there, Desmond begins to grow sorta kinda slowly while sticking close to Altaïr because they tried to keep him in Masyaf and he always just slips away. (Al Mualim tried to touch him and Desmond almost bit him. Al Mualim was lucky Desmond wasn’t that used to his new body yet).

By the time Ezio’s time rolls around, Desmond is now the same size as an adult Dalamunder and has been chilling in the expansive underground ‘city’ of Monteriggioni. Assassins have learned to build their headquarters underground with Desmond paving the way through. He starts telepathically talking to Ezio when Ezio is around 16~17 so we can hammer in Ezio’s Catholic upbringing for as long as we like XD

Ezio lived with the fear that the Devil was tempting him with power and knowledge as well as the fact that he believes he can’t tell anyone about this because they might think of him as a devil spawn. If he had told Giovanni Auditore, he would have learned about how Desmond is considered as an old god or a divine beast. The Templars made the whole ‘the devil is a snake’ thing a bigger impact than in the original timeline because of Desmond.

As for Ratonhnhaké:ton, it really depends on whether we’ll let Edward live or not. If Edward lives, that means that Desmond is a swimming snake that everyone thought was the Leviathan and, Ratonhnhaké:ton learned of him because Desmond starts to whisper to him when he was a kid. It’s the least stressful meeting of the three because Edward is there to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton who Desmond is. If we’re keeping it close to canon as possible, Desmond hibernates in the Grand Temple after eating whatever device was keeping Juno’s data and he awakens because he hears Lee and his men. He eats Lee and telepathically tells Ratonhnhaké:ton that they need to go and save the village because the other squads are on their way. From there, the village believes Desmond is one of the ‘beasts’ that sleeps in the land, having awakened because of the atrocities of the colonists.

[tau1tvec]

Look, don’t touch…

Tapping his glass, empty, it got the attention of the bartender, though only until something, or someone else grabbed her attention. “Oh, guess my shift’s over, she’ll get you once she signs in,” the brunette insisted, and another woman stepped in behind the bar to take over. “Bye,” she smirked as she waved to him, and although he seemed too lost in thought at the moment, returned it with his own.

Looking up, his green eyes following the mixologist coming on shift, he waited patiently with his empty whiskey glass in his hand, as she checked herself out in a tiny mirror hung in the bar back. Primping her short, neon colored hair, pinned down in a cold curl, he could tell she knew he was looking at her, watching her, by the way she stopped almost, then quickly continued. Slipping off her jacket, she tossed it up on a hook beside the mirror, and like all the other help around here, she wasn’t wearing a lot. The backless dress barely hanging on by a thin gold chain around her neck, it draped low to show her cleavage, and although he seemed quite relaxed, the way he was sitting in his stool, slightly sideways, and leaning back, with one arm over the spine, he adjusted his posture a bit as she approached the long, curved bar between them.

“The usual?”

“Yes,” he responded, although curious as to how she knew what that was, seeing as this was the first time she’d served him since he began coming a week ago.

“How—?”

“We keep notes on old receipts.” Pulling it off of the short wall between her serving area, and the bartop, she held it up to the light to read it out loud. “Tall, good looking guy, buzz cut, dresses like he’s going to a funeral.” Smirking at him, dressed in all black, and with black leather driving gloves over his hands, she smirked back at him a bit smugly, then returned the receipt where she’d plucked it to begin preparing his drink. “Whiskey on the rocks. Tips well.”

“You don’t work here a lot, do you? Part time—?”

“I come in when I’m needed,” she replied, quick and to the point. Setting his glass down on a fresh coaster, printed with the bar’s logo on top, she then took his empty one, tossed out the remaining ice cubes into a sink, and then stuck the used glass upside down on a device that rinsed it clean with a few quick bursts of water. “Or when I need grocery money.” Picking up a rag, she wiped her serving area clean, and began working on replenishing ingredients and garnishes used in their more mixed offerings. “Why? Spying on me?”

Though her tone was playful, he felt deserving of the assumption considering his question was a bit overboard. However, seeing her, after so long, it took him a bit out of his element. The calculated way he presented himself fell apart as she looked at him, expecting an answer, but all he could think of were all the words he’d wanted to say, for what felt like an eternity now.

Examining his whiskey, if to avoid eye contact, he slid a finger along the rim of the glass anxiously. “How did you know?”

“You’ve been asking all the other girls when I’m scheduled to work, and they told me.” Opening a container of green olives, she looked inside to see only a few rolling around at the bottom. “I’d consider it a slip up, but I know how you Templar operate. You don’t do anything without intention. So I took it as an invitation. You giving me the opportunity to go with you quietly, and I guess it beats you knocking down the door to my house as soon as you muscle the address outta somebody.”

The sound of a fridge door opening, a tiny one likely stowed away below the counter, she pulled out a fresh container of olives, opened the lid, and tossed the remaining ones on top. The scent of them found their way to his senses, transporting him to another time if for a brief second. Chasing a woman through the groves, the desert dust on his tongue, and yet he was laughing, and happy. They both were.

“Much as I appreciate the olive branch however, I won’t be going quietly.”

‘You’ll find someone… you’ll find someone as special to you as he is to me… it’s why we were put here, to find one another.’

Despite the tension growing between them, as they stared down one another at opposite ends of a concrete countertop, he pushed through it all with a big wide grin. “I’m just here to drink.”

‘I already have.’

Exhaling loudly, she returned the olive container to its spot alongside the others. Cherries, celery, lemons and limes, all fresh and locally sourced as advertised on their menus, then she wiped down the countertop again with a wet rag. “Sorry—”

“How did you know I was Templar?”

Rolling her eyes, she tossed the dirty rag into a bucket full of water diluted sanitizer with a splunk, followed by a slight laugh that slipped through her gritted teeth. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Oh I remember you,” he replied, as he sat up, and folded his arm over the other, then rested them atop the bartop. “Do you remember me?”

Smirking, in that certain way she did that captured his attention, he rubbed his chin, taking another good look at her in that dress.

“You don’t meet someone multiple times in your life, and find they haven’t aged a day since the first, then just somehow forget them,” she answered at last.

“I’m a lot older than I look.”

“Or you’re a vampire, and unfortunately for you, Edward Cullen, I’m not a bored and lonely teenager anymore.”

“Isa? Two Long Islands.”

The cocktail waitress sliding in beside him interrupted them, and he waited to give his response this time, their conversation a bit too sensitive to be having in mixed company.

“On it.”

The waitress side eyeing him, he only responded with a smile to deter her and any concern she might’ve been brewing, as she grabbed up a few menus, and then walked away slowly.

“You wanna hear a story?”

“Depends. You gonna tip me?”

Working on her drink order, the sound of ice at the bottom of a stainless steel shaker ringing in his ears, he reached into his back pocket to pull out a billfold, and open it up in front of her. Removing a crisp hundred dollar bill tucked inside, he set it down on the cold countertop. “Grocery money.”

The other girls weren’t lying about his being generous.

“There was once a knight who took an oath, who would’ve rather died by the sword than break it.” Picking up his drink in his right hand, a hold ring on his pinky finger colliding with the glass with a gentle clink, he brought it to his lips and took a sip, then set it down again. “Until a woman walked into his life.”

“Oh, didn’t see that coming,” she cut in condescendingly.

“She was a scholar, on a pilgrimage to seek knowledge, and also spread knowledge to others. Got him to realize there was a lot more to existing than war, God, and the sword… even his oath. The knight fell in love with her,” pausing briefly, both struggling to find the words, and building up tension, he looked at his reflection in his glass. “However she didn’t love him back.”

Suddenly her demeanor changed, and perhaps it was what he intended. To draw out her empathy at that exact second.

“The woman was in love with someone else, and yet, feeling sorry for him she’d bestowed upon him a final piece of advice he would never forget.”

“You’ll find someone… you’ll find someone as special to you as he is to me… it’s why we were put here, to find one another.”

Setting the finished drinks down on the countertop for her coworker to come fetch, she put a hand on her hip as she looked at the man sitting in the stool in front of her, quietly sipping on his whiskey. “You use that to pick up girls a lot, don’t you?”

Coughing, choking on his drink as it slipped down the wrong tube, he grasped at a napkin she held out to him, and brought it to his lips. “Why? Did it work?”

[sulky-valkyrie]

happy friday! for dadwc may i request "I didn’t ask you for permission, I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing whether you like it or not." for.... Nanders?

Hi Jay, happy DADWC Day! for @dadrunkwriting

screenshot yoinked from this video, which is a delightful animated banter compilation

“Shit shit shit!”  Anders’ frantic muttering echoed down the hallway as Nate approached.  He wasn’t worried, of course.  Merely curious.  Not curious enough to investigate if he didn’t already have business on this side of the Keep, of course.  The mage was maddening: standoffish and aggravating all day every day, but inviting Nate to his bed every night.  Or just in Nate’s bed already when he completed his watch duties.  

The first time it happened, Nate had been so shocked at the offer that he'd simply walked out.

The second time, Nate had suggested it himself in a moment of desperation for him to just shut up, and hoping it would make him more bearable when they were out on patrol.  That had been a resounding failure, long term; Anders had been even more flippant and annoying after that, and Nate spent hours biting his tongue to keep from snapping that there were better things he could be doing with mouth.  

And now, yet again, he was making poor use of that thrice-blasted mouth, and ranting a torrent of profanity as he tossed the room apart and threw all manner of supplies on his bed.  Potions, food, a waterskin and, strangest of all, his Warden dress uniform.  

“Going somewhere?”  Nate asked from the doorway

Anders jumped and spun around, magic crackling on his fingers.  When he recognized Nate, he scowled and turned back to the shelf, then tossed a few more things from it to the mattress.  “What do you care?”

The vehemence in his tone and the fury in his eyes actually made Nate step back.  "I, I didn't see any orders," he stammered.

"And you're not going to."  He grabbed a bag and started dumping everything in it.  "I found my - a friend.  And I'm going to go get him."

"You have friends?"  Nate winced the second he asked.  It wasn’t as though Anders wasn't friendly, just that it was only on the surface.  He never seemed to let anyone inside, treated everyone with the same familiarity and indifference equally.  Everyone except the Commander and possibly Nate himself.  The Commander got respect, and Nate got, well, disrespect.  And a bedwarmer.

Anders shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Apparently not.  Not enough to fucking help when I ask, so I'm… ugh."

"What?  You're a Warden, if course we'll -"

"Commander said no," Anders snapped.  "So I'm on my own.  Again."

"Doing what?"

He kept packing.  "What the void do you even care?"

Why did he?  Daytime Anders was irritation piled on exasperation, but he liked Nightime Anders a great deal.  And, theoretically, they were the same person.  Nate took a deep breath and pinched his brow.  "You've shared my bed, why wouldn't I?"

"Hasn't mattered before," he muttered, then turned around.  "I'm going to Kirkwall. Karl is… he's a mage.  And I'm getting him out."

Fear pricked at his gut.  They'll kill him.  “So, you’re just going to do what, exactly?  March up to the Gallows and Conscript him?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“It’s the Gallows,” Nate said sternly.  “They’re just as likely to haul you in for being apostate as anything else.”

He stabbed a finger at the uniform peeking from the bag.  “I’m a fucking Warden, they can’t.”

“And if they don’t believe you?”

“Then Kirkwall fucking burns,” he spat.  “You don’t get it, Howe.  I’m not asking for permission, or your blessing, or your help.  I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing whether you like it or not.”

“And what about us?  What about everyone here in Amaranthine?”  

“Us?  What us?  You can all burn too for all I care - I was only recruited because I happened to be here, and the Commander can't stand Templars.  You all fucking hate me, just be glad I'm leaving, alright?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole -” Nate started. 

“I love him!” Anders shouted.  “There, happy now?  I love him, I’ve loved him for years, and I finally found him!  I don’t give a shit about darkspawn, or any of you, and I’m going to get him back or die trying.  You got it?”

“What if the Knight Commander laughs you out of her office?”  Nate demanded.  “What then?  You can’t seriously think you can take on an entire contingent of Templars on your own.  They’ll have you down with a Tranquil brand on your forehead in under a minute.”

Anders spun around as he slung his pack over his shoulder.  “I’ve got a whole damn sea voyage to figure that shit out.”

“No, we need to figure this out now,” he insisted as he grabbed Anders’ elbow.

“Piss off, Nate,” Anders snarled as he shoved him back.  “You can get out of my way on your own or I can put you through through the fucking wall, but you’re not stopping me.  Not you, or the Commander or anyone else.”

Nate snatched his bag off his arm.  “I’m not trying to stop you, you fool, I’m coming with you!”

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

I’m thinking something like that fic ‘The Double Edged Sword’ by AuRon_Scaleless where Ezio and Altaïr are being manipulated by the apple of Masyaf to hate Desmond.

Difference is, the apple of Rome is also there because Ezio brought it with him by mistake so now it sits with Malik for safe keeping. The Masyaf one sits with Altaïr because the man studies it.

Anyway! The two are mistreating Desmond and he’s slowly falling apart with the mixture of bleeding effects and the after math of using the eye to save the world. With the added words and jabs at his apparent ‘betrayal’ it just deteriorated him more.

Malik is just as distrustful of the young man as anyone but at the same time he can feel that there is something more going on here. He just can’t figure out what.

This is until the Rome Apple decides to show him just what Desmond had gone through before popping up here. He sees the farm, the way he grew up, the borderline abuse disguised as training, the years of running and constantly looking over the shoulder, the eventual capture.

He sees Desmond fighting tooth and nail against the modern templars and he sees them drug him, forcing him into the animus to do their bidding. Then there’s the assassins doing pretty much the exact same things to him, his time in the machine growing longer and more frequent as his symptoms get worse and worse and worse.

And when Malik thinks it’s finally all over, that this used and abused young man can finally get a break from everything the ones who promised him a painless death and swift passing on do the exact opposite.

Malik can feel the wisps of pain that Desmond experiences and even that is almost too much for him. He sits there and watches Desmond scream and writhe for what felt like hours but must have been mere seconds.

Then Desmond is transported here, a few months after his second ancestor mind you, only to receive treatment just as bad as his original life.

Malik is practically thrown out of the memories, breathing turned ragged and tears that he didn’t event notice before streaming down his face. The apple in his hand pulses gently, as if it is saddened by the memories he had just witnessed, imploring him to do something to save the young man.

Before he can even move there is a hesitant knock on his door, a familiar head of brown accompanied by a face that is much too gaunt popping through the doorway with a hesitant smile. Despite everything the man still tries to smile at everyone and gain their trust, a feat he has not quite achieved with everyone sadly.

Desmond opens his mouth to speak, Malik hasn’t a clue as to what he’s about to say because he’s already up and across the room. He pulls the young man into a firm yet gentle hug, mindful of his still tender arm and trying to convey every single jumbled emotion he feels in that moment. God, Malik’s sure he has never despised missing an arm more than in this moment.

“I’m so sorry Desmond… you didn’t deserve… any of this. But you worked so hard for the brotherhood, for us and I am so proud of you.” There’s a moment where the young assassin doesn’t move, frozen in his arms before his chest suddenly hitches, body collapsing against Malik’s own as he lets out a quiet, bitten back sob.

The sound just makes the pain radiating through the Dai even worse. God the man couldn’t even cry freely without fear of something happening to him. He ignores the thoughts though, bringing Desmond to the pile of cushions he has set up in the corner of his office for those late nights he can’t quite make it back to his sleeping quarters.

They collapse into the mound together, Desmond burying his head deep into Malik’s chest and clutching his robes as he shudders and silently cries against him. The Dai can feel the young man’s mouth opening against his chest, as if he wanted to scream and sob aloud, but no sound escapes. Just ragged breaths and quiet sniffles.

They lay there for several long minutes, Malik keeping his arm looped around Desmond and running the tips of those fingers up and down what little of his spine he can reach. The young assassin doesn’t seem to mind though, relishes in it even as he slowly begins to calm down.

Before either of them realise it Desmond’s fast asleep, face looking peaceful and form more relaxed than Malik’s ever seen. He can’t help but plant a tender kiss on the younger’s forehead, breathing him deep as he tries to think on what to do next.

Apparently today is a day for interrupting him since there is another knock on the door, the noise loud and startling in the now quiet room. Desmond doesn’t even flinch at it though, an apparent testament to how exhausted he is.

Before Malik can get up the person enters, pleasant greeting on his tongue dying before it fades into an annoyed and angry scowl at the sight that greets him.

The Dai feels his own annoyance and anger rise at the sight of it, all those previous moments over the last few weeks suddenly springing to the forefront of his mind. Malik growls lowly at his longtime friend, glaring at him in a way that he knows the other is somewhat scared of, though the man would never admit to it.

“Get out Altaïr. I will speak with you later.” The mentor isn’t as easily cowled apparently, already opening his mouth again before stopping when Malik suddenly shoots to his feet. He had been extracting his arm and Altaïr hadn’t even noticed until now.

“I said leave novice. Do not make me say it again or I will make sure you regret it.” The mentor looks down at the still sleeping form of Desmond with one last glare before turning on his heel, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Malik huffs out an annoyed breath at his antics, turning around only to be met with wide and frightened eyes, scanning over everything as if looking for an escape route.

Also I suddenly thought of this. Desmond goes to the poor districts to help treat the sickly people (he has first aid knowledge because of his need for survival while he was on the run. Nothing like surgery but basic shit like how to prevent an outbreak and set a bone sort of stuff) and as a result the people there love him. It’s the only place he can feel like he’s doing something right and feel as if he belongs.

Nobody else knows of this for obvious reasons. They’d either spread the rumours there and make everyone hate him or they’d do something equally as bad. But that’s where he escapes to when things get to be too much for him in the bureau.

He’s not allowed to leave either because they have to ‘make sure he isn’t a threat to the people’ even though they don’t spare him a single thought the second he goes missing.

Malik follows him one day and when he sees just what the man does in order to help people he can’t help but feel even more anger toward Altaïr and Ezio. How could they treat a man so broken and pure like that? How could they hate him so when he smiles that reassuringly toward a child who has merely scraped his knee? It makes no sense.