#justice positive

[azurechicken]

It always gets me how Justice did not change at all, like, he is not corrupted at all. It makes everything more tragic than it already is. The only thing that changed was his perception, which of course, naturally came due to the change of hosts. I'm mostly taking Awakening Justice into account and how he acts because that is where we can carefully observe him by himself, without Anders' influence on the matter. And his influence is everything on the point I am trying to make.

When we first meet Justice, he is fulfilling his nature of bringing justice to the people he thinks that need it. He is very outspoken about it, and is already ready to take action with or without Warden's help. For a supposedly peaceful spirit that Anders claims to have ruined with his anger, Justice is acting pretty angry here himself (This is not the only time either). This is one of the first things I want to point out that did not change much about the spirit. Justice was always fierce about his cause. However, what stands out to me in these scenes is when the witch calls him out on his idea of justice.

Justice, is that what you are calling it? What of their punishment, burning my house to the ground and with me in it?

Well, in this case, the witch is a demon and mocking Justice for funsies. But what she says actually gives a bit more insight about what kind of a spirit Justice is. The actions do not speak louder than intent to him, as long as it is within the lines he set for himself. In a way, he was always okay with a few… casualties in the name of justice. Even though it is as simple as burning down a house this time. Isn't violence for violence vengeance after all?

While we are on the topic of vengeance, let's not forget the way he is eager on avenging Kristoff, vowing to kill every darkspawn for his cause (I mean the way he literally calls it avenging is enough debate for some people but I want to continue). So how come wanting to take revenge on the offenders that wronged not only his host but many other people, is any different? How did this route did not take him to the road of vengeance but attacking the templars, who are also offenders that wronged his host and other people, is corrupting him?

The answer is of course, that it is not, it did not. There is no difference between those two for Justice, there is no difference between vengeance and justice. Punishing the ones who deserve it is all there is. There is no gray area for spirits the way there is in the mortal world, and we see this clearly in the way he judges Velanna and Nathaniel for their crimes. Despite what I said about him seeing intent before action, now he cannot see beyond their wrongs. This simply shows that if the intent is as clear as violence for violence, he understands. But he does not understand the gray area of Velanna mistaking the innocents as guilty, or Nathaniel taking back what used to be already his.

 

There might be none for Justice, but there is a difference between darkspawn and templars for mortals. For one, darkspawn are generally mindless, and has no moral compass for us to judge. Whereas templars are just people with different ideals about life, to put it kindly at least. (Which is worse, being a mindless cruel monster, or having the mind and morals to choose to be something else but going for being one anyway? Lol another discussion for another time). Templars are the gray area that Justice lacks the understanding of. When he vows to kill every templar like he did with the darkspawn, he does not suddenly turn into a demon, he is simply punishing the ones that were doing wrong, as he does.

From here we can say that spirits' judgments and mortal's don't exactly match up. Though, there is one idea that seems to match better than others, and that is corruption. As far as we learn from Justice, spirits do not know about corruption any better than we do. Spirit do bad, spirit go bad, right? So, when Justice starts to feel things that are associated with demons, such as envy, he starts to fear corruption. He says he does not want to learn how a demon feels, but he also states that he does see the wishful thinking of a demon wanting to cross the Veil for this world. He is conflicted at best about the whole thing. Still, he does not consider himself corrupted regardless. I think that the reason behind that is simply the fact that generally, the Warden can ease his worries when Justice confides in them. And that is another thing that says a bit about him. He seems to accept the lack of understanding he has in the world, and chooses to listen to someone who does. Though, not just a random anybody, someone he deemed just.

So, let's see. A fade spirit with identity issues and an anxious spirit healer walks into a bar…

When they merged and Justice accepted Anders' cause for himself, and when they went all crazy on the Templars, Anders was scared. He feared the worst immediately because he is taught the worst about possession. He knew that Justice was angry because of him and his ideals about mages. So he blamed himself, called it a corruption he caused. And as I mentioned, Justice is accepting of the fact that he has a lack of understanding of some things. Plus, he was already scared of corruption. So, when Anders, who is an educated mage about possessions and corruption claims that he is slowly corrupting the spirit, they held onto it.

Everyone in their life from this point on, do nothing but egg them on about it, on top of it all. They might not corrupt each other, but everyone else does by pushing them the idea that they are now an abomination. Anders starts to fear the nonexistent corruption more, and Justice is confusing the inability to just wipe all the bad out with sloth. We are talking about a being who comes from the Fade, which can be bent at will and a place of immediate action. This works well in Awakening because we are already fighting darkspawn nonstop, and we are in the middle of a war. But in Kirkwall? Everything requires planning and suspended ideals. Templars bring injustice everywhere they go, yet there is not much they can do. After many years of being held back, it is no wonder Justice is surfacing more and more, itching to fulfill his purpose. Because he was always outspoken, angry at the injustice in the world and eager to bring justice. He did not change, but Anders' morals and his' just did not align the way they thought it would. They forgot that in Justice, there was always a part that was vengeance.

At the end, Justice was one of the most stable parts of Anders' story. He couldn't count his vow in Awakening complete without reaching the root of the problem, which was the broodmother. And he could not do so in Kirkwall without getting rid of the Chantry. Because chantry is the root of the Templars, and being a bystander while you can help solve everything easily is unjust all the same.

Anders and Justice had the same cause, different morality and they were just confused because they didn't know any better.

[bluerose5]

For Old Times' Sake

Pairings: Anders(+Justice)/Male Hawke/Nathaniel Howe

Rating: M

Word Count: 6,912

Summary: After helping Nathaniel out in the Deep Roads, he and Anders have a lot to catch up on, but Garrett Hawke isn't the slightest bit deterred by the history between them.

AO3 Link. Along with links to posts from deedeemactir and zevsurana that inspired certain parts/headcanons mentioned in this fic. :D

...

Garrett kept a close eye on Nathaniel Howe.

Not that he did anything untoward, nor did Garrett think him to be a suspicious sort. On the contrary, he seemed reliable enough, and he definitely piqued the Champion's interest. 

On their way out of the Deep Roads, Garrett fell back to walk at Anders' side. They took up the rear with Fenris and Varric a few paces in front of them, Nathaniel and Carver taking the lead. Aside from Garrett, they thought it best to keep the Wardens positioned in the outer ranks to lessen the others’ chances of coming into contact with tainted blood, should the darkspawn attack again.

With Nathaniel and Anders being more attuned to the darkspawn taint than Carver, they were pretty certain that the coast was clear, but better to be safe than sorry, they said.

Garrett chose to ease his way back to Anders’ side, despite his warning stare.

“You’re supposed to be with the others,” Anders said in place of a greeting, his brow furrowed in concern.

Snorting, Garrett wrapped an arm around his waist, which almost instantly sapped Anders of all that tension.

“Perhaps, but I trust my handsome Grey Warden to come to my rescue at the first sign of trouble.”

“Is that so?” Anders asked, amused. “Also, technically, I’m your former Grey Warden. You know that.”

“I’m trying to paint a heroic picture here, my love.”

“Fair enough.”

They exchanged a warm smile.

After a moment, Garrett cleared his throat.

“So…” He trailed off, his expression sly. “Nathaniel, huh?”

Anders raised a brow at him in turn.

“What about him?” he said, but Garrett was far from oblivious, noting how he shuffled against his side.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he said, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, “I would think that you like Nathaniel.” He shrugged. “Or maybe Justice does. Or both of you.”

Anders gaped at the suggestion.

“I, uh—” He coughed, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Garrett smirked. “Then why are you blushing?”

Without thinking, Anders smacked a hand up to his cheek, which was indeed warm to the touch, but he wouldn’t give Garrett the satisfaction of being right.

“I am not!” he objected.

“Of course not.”

Before they could devolve into a bickering mess, Nathaniel called back to the group, "We see the exit! Just ahead!"

"Oh, thank the Maker," Varric groaned. "Fresh air! And my feet are killing me!"

"Did you complain this much on the actual expedition, dwarf?" Fenris muttered.

"Before or after my brother's infamous betrayal?" he questioned, then continued on before he could get a word in. "Tell you what, I'll go ahead and save you the time of responding to that. The answer to both is yes."

Well, at least he was honest.

With a roll of his eyes, Garrett gave a fond shake of his head.

Their group made a beeline for the exit, but their return trip was only just beginning.

As expected, Carver turned to bid the group farewell, never one to linger long those days.

Despite their earlier exchange underground, Garrett immediately released his hold on Anders to approach Carver instead, wrapping him up in a tight embrace, no hesitation whatsoever. Carver had to stoop over just to reach his short, big brother. His arms hovered in the air for a split second before he returned the hug in kind.

"Must you leave so soon?" Garrett murmured. "It's always so good to see you. Makes everything feel better, if only for a moment."

Carver buried his face into his hair, releasing a shaky breath.

"You know I can't," he said. "I need to report back."

Eventually, with great effort, he pried Garrett away. His hands remained fixed upon his shoulders, keeping him at arm's length.

Garrett swallowed thickly.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Alright. Just—Just stay safe, you hear? Be careful."

Carver spared him a smile.

"Always am, but you do the same. Don't go setting the city aflame again anytime soon, alright?"

Garrett chuckled.

"I'll try my best."

Once he departed, Garrett turned to the others. Rather than linger on their sympathetic looks, he addressed Nathaniel directly.

"What about you?" he asked, head cocked to the side. "How long are you sticking around these parts? Or do you have some urgent Grey Warden business to attend to as well?"

Nathaniel shrugged.

"I'm going to send my report to the Commander. Then, I—"

"The Commander?" Anders narrowed his eyes at that. "I thought you were here on the First Warden's orders."

"I am," Nathaniel answered, a bit too quickly, but it didn't take a genius to catch how defensive he was. "The First Warden ordered the investigation, but is it so bad that Darrian wants to keep tabs on the rest of us? After everything we've been through?"

"He doesn't keep tabs on me," Anders pointed out, trying his best not to feel insulted by that fact, but ultimately failing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nathaniel scoffed.

"So far as you know," Nathaniel retorted. "Do you honestly believe that one of the Kings of Ferelden, that the Hero of Ferelden himself, couldn't track you down if he wanted?"

"Well, he certainly hasn't reached out to me at all, if that was the case," Anders stated, bitter.

Nathaniel bristled at his tone.

Garrett exchanged a wary glance with the others.

Maybe it would be best to intervene somehow.

"Hey, now, guys, let's just—"

Both of them snapped their heads to the side in tandem, glaring at the intrusion.

"Stay out of it!" they snapped.

Garrett threw his hands up in surrender.

"Staying out of it," he agreed.

"You want to know why the rest of us haven't contacted you over the years?" Nathaniel spat.

"Enlighten me," Anders sneered.

"Because you left, just as you always do," Nathaniel stated, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Instead of going to Commander Tabris, instead of coming to me when you had trouble with the Wardens, you left!" Drained of what energy he had left from their excursion, he pursed his lips, his expression hurt. "I didn't even get a goodbye. Then again, should I have expected anything else? Our beloved Anders, always the escape artist." 

When he didn't respond, Nathaniel took a deep breath, staring off into the distance, his jaw clenched.

"I wanted to contact you, but Darrian insisted that we give you your space. He didn't want you to feel coerced to stay. Maker, you know that he barely keeps his ties to the Wardens as is. He was trying to be understanding of what you wanted."

"Then why even bother sending you out here in the first place?" Anders countered. "Obviously, the First Warden is only an excuse, so what's out here that Darrian would be interested in? Why send you out to the Free Marches? This area isn't under his command."

Nathaniel snuck a glance at the others, who quickly averted their eyes. Fenris picked at his nails while Varric whistled an all-too-innocent tune, and Garrett busied himself by simply drawing patterns in the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

Overall, quite the convincing performance.

Shifting his attention back to Anders, Nathaniel chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Darrian asked that I come as a favor to him while he was stuck dealing with the nobility in Ferelden," he explained. "After your expedition, word quickly spread throughout the Grey Wardens' ranks. Darrian wanted to get ahead of this before too many people got involved, before the sites were trampled over in the Wardens' search for darkspawn and riches."

"What were you looking for, if not that?" Anders asked.

His answer knocked the air out of Anders, left him winded like a punch to the gut.

"A cure."

Anders dared not hope.

"A cure for the taint?" he questioned, needing to clarify for certain.

Nathaniel nodded.

"Did you find anything?" Garrett said, unable to contain his curiosity after such a revelation.

"Not a definite answer," Nathaniel told him, "but I have another lead at least."

Garrett couldn't hide his slight disappointment, mostly for Anders' sake, but then he perked up again. He smacked Varric on the shoulder.

"Hey! Didn't Merrill's mirror have the Blight? She cleansed it with blood magic, right?" At the scrunched-up looks on Anders' and Fenris' faces, Garrett snapped his mouth shut. "Just a thought!"

"One that is worth further investigation at the very least, even if nothing comes of it," Nathaniel agreed. "Perhaps I should meet with your friend, though, this Merrill."

"Such mighty heroes of legend, willing to resort to blood magic so easily," Fenris said, the sarcasm almost palpable in his voice.

"We are no heroes," Nathaniel replied, "yet our Order has saved the world many times over, having committed much worse acts than a bit of blood magic in the name of the greater good. Keep that in mind before you judge us."

That being said, he presented an offer to Anders, a futile one, but he wanted to extend it nonetheless.

His expression softened, watching him tenderly.

"We could always use the extra hands, if you're ever interested."

"So could I," Anders countered. "Nathaniel, I can only fight one battle at a time, and the mages here need my help."

"Huh. Interesting."

"What?"

"You never used to be all that interested in the mages' struggles before. What changed?"

"You mean he wasn't always like this?" Fenris muttered to Varric.

"Hard to imagine," Varric said, incredulous.

Anders scowled at them both. 

"Believe it or not, but I did always care in a way, no matter what was said in the past," he explained to all of them. "The thing was, I was powerless on my own. I didn't know where to even start. It was so much easier to turn a blind eye and look out for myself as I always did. It was easier to convince myself that I didn't care than it was to give a shit. It's not easy to have to fight tooth and nail every day to even dream about making a dent in our current system, let alone make the drastic changes that I and so many others envision."

Anders took a deep breath. Already, he could feel Justice simmering at the surface of his skin. His presence made his teeth tingle, but he wasn't ready to have that particular conversation with Nathaniel just yet.

For now, they reined themselves in.

"So, yeah," Anders stated, "a lot has changed."

"That, it has," Nathaniel said, "but my offer remains open." He paused, hesitant, wistful almost. "I don't begrudge you the life that you have built here. I merely wish that things could have been different."

The tension thickened around them, so much so that it clung to the air, but Garrett was optimistic. He wanted to reach out to them both, to bridge the sudden gap left between them.

“Well, surely you don’t have to leave so soon, do you, Nathaniel?” Garrett asked. He approached him, stepping between him and Anders, his hands on his hips with a playful smirk. “Why not stay and catch up? Preferably with less friction, of course.”

Surprised by the offer, Nathaniel blinked owlishly at him.

“I don’t know…” He trailed off, casting a glance in Anders’ direction, uncertain. “I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” Garrett exclaimed. “Besides, you can’t just leave without having a Wicked Grace night at The Hanged Man. It’s the crown jewel of Kirkwall!”

“You don’t say,” Nathaniel hummed.

Of course, Nathaniel had been to Kirkwall before, The Hanged Man included, but he didn't want to dampen Garrett’s mood, his excitement contagious.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure that he’s busy, love,” Anders chided.

“Not too busy,” Nathaniel assured him. “After I send off my reports, all I had planned was to meet up with Sigrun in the Deep Roads.”

“You know, you could always talk to Daisy at The Hanged Man later as well,” Varric suggested.

“Daisy?”

“Merrill,” Garrett clarified.

“Ah, okay.” After thinking it over, Nathaniel shifted in place. “If it’s alright with you, Anders.”

His response was instant, bordering on defensive.

“Yeah, of course, do what you want.” He snorted. “Why would it be a problem?”

“Beats me,” Fenris deadpanned, ignoring Anders’ glare.

“In that case,” Nathaniel said, “I could always make time for a round of drinks.”

“With that kind of talk, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with Oghren," Anders teased.

"In spite of one's best efforts, that dwarf does tend to rub off on you in one way or another."

Garrett smiled.

"Shall we get going then?" he asked. He stopped to wrinkle his nose at the state of his armor, pinching at the fine leather. "I don't know about the rest of you, though, but I could use a bath —or seven— before we go to Wicked Grace night."

Fenris and Varric grimaced at the reminder.

"Yeah, I think I'll head to the mansion first when we get back, then meet the rest of you there," Fen agreed. "Blighted Deep Roads."

"I'll be scrubbing the stench out for weeks," Varric complained with a pout. "This is my favorite coat."

"Doesn't look much different than the others."

"Thanks for the support, Hawke. It means a lot."

"Always happy to be of service," he laughed. "Nathaniel! Feel free to come by our estate before we go." He emphasized the offer with a hand upon Anders' shoulder, giving it a pointed squeeze. "I'm sure we could find something your size in Anders' or even some of Carver's old clothes."

"Tempting as that is, I think I should really check in with Delilah first," he sighed. "She'll have some of my belongings with her, at least, but I'll definitely head your way before we set out to The Hanged Man."

"Sounds like a plan."

Fenris rolled his eyes at them while Varric shook his head in amusement, undoubtedly jotting down mental notes on how best to spin this scenario for his stories.

As they started on the trek back to Kirkwall, Anders tugged Garrett to his side with a hiss.

"I know what you're doing."

"What?" Garrett asked, feigning innocence. His eyes widened, but that goofy grin of his remained in place. "What am I supposedly doing?"

"You…" Anders huffed. "You're being all friendly and what-not with Nathaniel."

"Oh, that?" Garrett shrugged, but his expression quickly shifted to one of concern. "I mean, if you want me to stop, just say the word."

Good question. Did Anders want him to stop?

"No," he decided, "it's not that." He waved away any worries he might have. "Nate's a big boy. If he's not comfortable with anything you say or do, he'll tell you himself."

"Good to know," Garrett said, "but he's 'Nate' now, huh?"

"We've known each other for a while now," Anders grumbled. "What about it?"

"Nothing." Garrett slipped free from his grasp with a mischievous wink. "Nothing at all."

He strolled up to Nathaniel's side while they walked, Fenris on the other.

Varric settled for a slower pace instead, settling in next to Anders.

While Garrett and Fenris talked with Nathaniel about almost anything and everything —from his life in Ferelden to his time in the Free Marches to his service under the Warden-Commander— Varric struck up a conversation of his own with Anders. He discussed his latest ideas on how to strengthen the protection around the clinic, especially with the templars so active as of late.

Anders nodded here and there, made the occasional noise of agreement, but the majority of his attention was devoted to watching the others, Garrett and Nathaniel specifically.

He simply couldn't look away.

The way they joked and laughed together was a sight to behold, Garrett being the more open and expressive of the two while Nathaniel relied upon his sarcasm and wit.

It didn't help that Garrett was so free with his affection and interest. He definitely cut back on flirting with others since he and Anders entered into a relationship, understandably so, but there was no denying how his body kept gravitating towards Nathaniel while they walked, how he shifted much closer than the careful distance that Fenris kept. Touches and glimpses alike lingered, but Anders found it even more fascinating when Nathaniel started to return that attention in kind.

Unlike the times when others amongst their inner circle made advances towards Garrett, Anders didn't feel that sharp, burning spike of jealousy rear its ugly head again.

No, instead, he felt entranced.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. His heart raced. His pulse pounded.

Swallowing thickly, he felt Justice stir at the growing intensity of his emotions.

Varric snapped his fingers at him, startling Anders out of his sudden daze.

"Hey!" Varric said. "Are you even listening to me, Blondie?"

“Wha— Oh, yeah! Of course I was!”

“Uh-huh, sure…” Trailing off, Varric raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “What was I just talking about then?”

“Er, stuff?”

“What sort of stuff?”

“The stuff you talk about when you’re Varric Tethras,” Anders said, “because I was definitely listening.”

“Hey, now, was that a joke? Not from our Anders, no. Someone alert the Chantry!”

“Let’s not and say we did.”

Varric hummed in contemplation, following his earlier line of sight with ease.

“Taking in the view?” he asked. Nodding ahead at Hawke and company, he gave Anders a pointed nudge with his elbow. “Or are you concerned because your boyfriend and your ex are getting along so well?”

“Something like that.”

In all honesty, he was more so surprised by how much it didn’t bother him.

The rest of their return trip passed by with idle chatter, Anders deep in thought.

Once they arrived, everyone went their separate ways. Garrett and Anders made their way to the estate, hand-in-hand, their arms swinging slightly between them.

After greeting Bodahn and the others, they retreated to their room, where Garrett drew them a bath, heating it up to a steaming temperature with his magic. From there, they shed their clothes and set them aside to be cleaned later, the exhaustion from their journey finally catching up to them.

For a moment, they let all their worries fade away into the background.

They washed one another. Reverent touches lingered while they exchanged soft kisses here and there, smiling against each other’s lips. Their hands explored their bodies. Slowly but surely, they wiped away all the dirt and grime that remained until they both were clean.

Then, as they dried off, they whispered sweet nothings against each other’s skin, flushed with warmth.

Dressed in loose shirts and form-fitting pants, they finished getting ready for the evening ahead of them. Anders left his hair down without a care in the world, but he spent more than his fair share of time combing through Garrett’s thick curls for him. He parted his hair, section by section, and took great care when he encountered any particular tangles that made him wince.

Once Garrett was satisfied with the end result, he tied his hair back out of his face, huffing at the few stubborn strands that remained in his eyes.

Together, they trudged down the stairs and into the library.

They sat in front of the fire, leaning into each other’s side.

"You know," Garrett eventually said, "speaking with Nathaniel made me realize that you don't talk much about your time with the Wardens, even now."

Anders shrugged dismissively.

"There's not much to say, in all honesty," he sighed. In the distance, he could hear the front door open as Bodahn greeted their guest. "There were some good times in Amaranthine, I must admit, but we saw just as many unspeakable horrors during our stay there." Even now, he shuddered to think about it. To take his mind off of the memories, he leaned in to whisper to Garrett conspiratorially. "Plus, that Anders, let me tell you. I hear that he was quite an insufferable ass."

Garrett barked out a laugh at that, genuinely caught off guard.

"No, you don't say!" He gasped, then abruptly stopped, giving Anders a swift once-over. "Well, at least nothing has changed much in that regard." When Anders scowled at him, Garrett was quick to backtrack. "Kidding, kidding!"

Nathaniel laughed as he entered the room, attracting their attention.

"Heh, I see why you kept this one around, Anders. He's quite the jokester. Like a certain someone," he added, sitting next to them on the floor, his legs crossed out in front of him. "Unlike you, however, he's actually funny."

Garrett beamed at that, as if he received the highest praise imaginable.

"You hear that, my dear?" Garrett bragged. "Nathaniel thinks that I am funny."

"Yes, love," Anders said, "I heard. Although, I wish I hadn't. Your ego is already big enough without the extra encouragement."

When he pouted, Nathaniel grinned at them, leaning his weight back onto his hands.

Anders tried not to stare too much, but that was easier said than done. Gone were the dirt and carnage from their earlier ventures. Gone was the Grey Warden armor he once wore. In its place, he donned a dark blue shirt with a deep, plunging neckline, crafted from the finest silk. His chest hair was on display, the view tantalizing enough to give even Varric a run for his money. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the musculature of his forearms, only a teasing glimpse of the full picture.

Black pants hugged the shape of his legs. Each shift caused the fabric to pull a little taut around his hips and thighs, the ends tucked neatly into a pair of leather boots.

Of course, if Anders was being even the slightest bit open about his appreciation, then that meant that Garrett was practically undressing Nathaniel with his eyes.

Not that Nathaniel did anything to discourage such attention, his expression smug, almost challenging as he met their eyes.

"So…" Nathaniel watched them both, lips parted. "You were talking about Amaranthine?"

Instantly, Garrett perked up, eager to know more.

"What was it like," he asked, "working with the Hero of Ferelden?"

"About as exciting as it would be to work with the Champion of Kirkwall on a daily basis, I'd imagine," Nathaniel answered. "And, from what I gathered, the crew you gathered around you is just as… unique as ours was back then."

"Yeah, that's an understatement," Anders snorted. "Although, speaking of…"

Garrett and Nathaniel glanced at him questioningly.

Despite his better judgment, he decided to ask anyway.

"How are they?"

Nathaniel thought that over for a moment, humming to himself in contemplation.

"Well, to start, I bet you'd love an update on the most important, littlest man in your life." At Anders' confused look, Nathaniel clarified. "Ser Pounce-a-lot is living a life of luxury, you know."

Oh, how Anders' heart absolutely melted at that news!

"His cat?" Garrett asked.

"The very one."

"He's still alive and kicking?" Anders laughed. "Not that I should have expected any less."

"Well, he's getting up in age; but, when Darrian heard the Wardens tried to take him away, he was upset to say the least. Brought him back to the royal palace, where his grandmother takes care of him. Last I heard, he lives the life of a spoiled mouser."

"Glad to hear it," Anders whispered, his body light with relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"As for our dearest Commander, well, I told you quite a bit already." Nathaniel shrugged. "King of Ferelden is the most recent update. Searching for a cure. Although, if you're more interested in the mage side of things, I hear that he and King Alistair have secured the Circle's independence in Ferelden. Apparently, they're working on implementing a different system instead."

"The College of Enchanters," Garrett whispered, and Anders hated it, how they felt the need to hide this, even in their own home. "My father had contacts in the Mages' Collective there that I still maintain. They hope that The College will serve as a template for other nations, that it'll be the first of its kind."

Anders could see how Garrett fidgeted with his hands, how he struggled to contain himself, how his dark brown eyes lit up in excitement.

"They say that they're offering refuge to apostates fleeing the Circle as well, those from Circles outside of Ferelden."

"The Mage Underground has actually confirmed that rumor," Anders stated. "They issued a royal decree stating that they will 'uphold the personal freedoms of any apostate seeking sanctuary in Ferelden, unless their presence is deemed a direct, unprovoked threat to the lives of others.' They're also refusing to aid the templars in any current hunts for mages at the moment."

"Interesting times that we live in," Nathaniel said. "It certainly won't win Darrian any points with the more Chantry-centric nobles still stuck in their ways, but I trust that he can handle it."

"If anyone could do it, it's him," Anders agreed. "But what about the others?"

"Ah, yes. Them. Now, let me see, let me see," Nathaniel continued, deep in thought. "Oghren is still Oghren, still a little smelly—"

"A little?" Anders interrupted, but Nathaniel kept on going as if he didn't even hear him.

"—still drinking his days away, but he has been more involved with his family, so I'll give him that. Velanna is, well…" Nathaniel grimaced. "She's still missing. No body was ever found in the Keep after the battle all those years ago. Darrian seems convinced that she somehow escaped and that she went into the Deep Roads to find her sister."

"I might not know this Velanna personally, but if it meant getting my sister back, I know that I would brave the Deep Roads and so much more for the chance," Garrett said, wistful.

"Had it been my sister, I wouldn't have hesitated," Nathaniel agreed, then cleared his throat. "Right, so Sigrun then? She's as cheerful as always. She's been leading multiple expeditions into the Deep Roads, sometimes for the Wardens, sometimes for the Legion, or even a mixture of both from time to time. Every now and then, she'll return to the Keep, but she keeps herself plenty busy, so she usually doesn't stay too long."

Nathaniel stared off into the flames of the crackling fire nearby, and that was when Anders suddenly realized that there was one last person for Nate to mention, a sinking feeling settling hard in his stomach like a rock.

"As for Justice, I don't know." Nathaniel rubbed at the back of his neck. "We heard from Aura that Kristoff's body was returned to her."

Anders stiffened at the all-too-familiar names, an echo of sorrow lingering from memories that were both his yet somehow not as well. A dizzying sensation followed, his head spinning as it struggled to keep up.

Confused, Garrett furrowed his brow at them, glancing between the two.

"Other than that?" Nathaniel shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe he returned to the Fade."

"To the Fade…?" Garrett narrowed his eyes at him, but Anders didn't get a chance to stop him before he rambled on. "You do mean our Justice, right? The one currently possessi—" Realization dawned on him then. "Wait, you don't know?"

With a groan, Anders dragged his hand down his face. He could already feel a headache coming on, a dull pain slowly spreading at his temple.

"Way to go, love," he praised, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Very smooth delivery there, I must say."

"Well," Garrett huffed, "how was I supposed to know that you didn't tell him?"

"Didn't tell me what, exactly?" Nathaniel asked, staring them down. "Anders, what is he talking about?"

Going back and forth on how to put it, Anders eventually decided that the time for subtlety was long gone.

With a deep, bracing breath, he closed his eyes and blurted out, "Justice and I are one!"

He peeked an eye open when Nathaniel didn't respond at first, the latter opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words.

"Okay," he eventually said, slow and even. "I think I'll need you to clarify on that one for me."

"Ugh." Anders ran his fingers through his hair, sank his teeth into his bottom lip before releasing it. "I am his living vessel, and he is currently possessing me, for lack of better words."

"You're doing great," Garrett told him. Anders wrinkled his nose at him.

After a moment, Nathaniel sat up a bit straighter, giving Anders his full attention.

"Would it be too much to ask how this happened?"

No, it wouldn't be, but it took Anders several minutes to sift through two sets of memories, recollections of the same events but viewed from different angles.

Eventually, he spoke.

"It started when Darrian began to venture out more on his own. Not that I blame him for what happened, but he was the force keeping everything in order at the Keep. You, Sigrun, and Oghren were in the Deep Roads at the time, I believe. I stayed behind with Justice to help train some new recruits, mostly the mages, the younger ones who needed more guidance than most. I loved that."

Anders smiled.

"Back then, I always put on this air of indifference, but the truth was that I loved feeling like I was a part of something bigger, that I made a difference. Justice knew that." He laughed underneath his breath with a shake of his head. "He always did see right through me."

How quickly his smile fell, his jaw clenched tight.

"But without Darrian there to oversee matters personally, the Wardens became less selective in their recruitment process. They were simply trying to ride the wave of success after the Fifth Blight. Their goal was to recruit as many people as they could, as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, I remember," Nathaniel whispered. "When we returned, I remember thinking that a lot of those new recruits were definitely a handful."

And that was saying something, considering how he joined.

"That's putting it lightly," Anders grumbled. "Among the latest group at the time was Rolan, a former templar in name only." 

"He was still taking orders from them?" Garrett asked.

"I know for certain that he was. After all, it was quite the coincidence that Ser Rylock and the other templars who opposed my Conscription grew silent the second he showed up." Anders sneered. "He wasn't one of mine to train. He was more seasoned than most who joined, but he made it his sole purpose to watch my every move, to follow my every step. It didn't take long before his presence started to affect me, so Justice took to my side, day in and day out. He'd watch over me while I slept, chased Rolan off when he lingered. In that time, we talked more, grew closer…"

Anders swallowed thickly.

"He would talk me down when I panicked. He was there when the nightmares became more frequent, more intense." He refused to look at either of them for a moment, his gaze distant. "I wasn't taking care of myself, and Justice knew that I was about to make a run for it. Out of self-preservation, if nothing else. But Justice saw an opportunity for us both. We liked each other. We worked well together, and his days were numbered in Kristoff's body. He wouldn't hold on forever. He wouldn't put Aura through that."

Garrett took Anders' hand in his with a reassuring squeeze.

Blue light flooded through their veins. Web-like cracks split open their skin, their eyes glowing bright.

"We will never feel so powerless again," they stated. The power of the Fade resonated through their voice. "We swore then that we wouldn't stop until all mages live free of the fear and oppression they suffer under the Chantry's rule."

Nathaniel considered that, cautious to approach at first, but then he shifted closer.

He placed a hand upon their shoulder.

"Justice," he said, "what happened?"

"When I left Kristoff's body to join with Anders, Rolan rallied other templars and wardens against us. They called us an abomination, and then they attacked." They could recall each second with perfect clarity. "Being attacked so soon, when we had only just merged in such a way, made the transition messy."

They lifted up their shirt to reveal the large, jagged scar over their chest, its corresponding match on their back. 

"The templar tried to run us through. He did run us through, and so we tore his head clean from his body," they stated it so matter-of-factly, not even bothering to deny the horrors they inflicted during that first day together. "Everything was a blur. We wanted to make them pay for what they did to us. And by the time we regained our senses, we were all alone, surrounded by bodies torn to shreds, blood on our hands and our teeth."

Garrett brushed his fingers along the scar.

"That's how this happened," he murmured, right as Justice let the fabric fall back into place. "You never mentioned it, but I didn't want to pry either."

"We don't exactly have fond memories of being stabbed," Justice noted.

"I can't imagine why," Nathaniel said, but guilt ate at him, especially for his earlier words about Anders leaving. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that alone."

"We weren't alone," Justice assured him.

"You know what I mean."

"Nathaniel." Reaching out, they rested their hand upon his, their touch gentle. "Things might not be perfect now, but Anders and I made it through the worst by relying on each other. We didn't know at the time whether or not we could even control ourselves. We didn't want to risk you or the others, so we left. We didn't leave because of you, though."

Nathaniel sighed.

"Well, that's a relief, at least."

Their light died down, Anders slowly regaining control.

"In our defense, this was all your idea," Anders told him. "You were the one to suggest that Justice look for a living host."

Nate blinked owlishly at him.

"You remember that conversation?" he asked, bewildered. "How does that work exactly? Are all of his memories yours and vice versa, or…?"

"Something like that." He repeated to Nathaniel an explanation similar to what he once told Hawke. "I can't really say where one of us starts and the other ends. There are times when I'm the one in control and others when it's mostly Justice, but we're both still there. I'm still me, but it's us now. It's like we're two people and one at the same time." With a resigned grumble, Anders gave a half-shrug. "It's hard to explain."

"So, when Justice was in Kristoff's body…" Nathaniel looked as if he would be sick. "You can remember that?"

"I can," he answered slowly, "but I would rather not think about it, if possible."

"Wait, wait, wait," Garrett said. "You're telling me that you have memories…" He gestured vaguely, overall speechless. "Of possessing a corpse?"

"Yes, now, can we please stop talking about this?"

Silently, Nathaniel and Garrett exchanged a pointed look.

"Are you, uh, okay?" Garrett asked.

"Not right now, I'm not. Not if you two keep pestering me about this."

"Are you okay, in general?" Nathaniel countered.

Anders opened his mouth, paused, then closed it.

"Believe it or not, I am," he admitted. "I mean, I have purpose here. Our friends feel like a sort of makeshift family at times, and I have a man that I love, who loves me in return. Life is good right now."

He didn't entertain thoughts of the future, not now, not when things were peaceful, if only for a moment.

Garrett beamed up at Anders, shifting closer to his side.

Their love for each other was so apparent that Nathaniel couldn't help but to smile just from watching them.

"Glad to know things are working out for you," Nate said, ruminating on his thoughts with a playful chuckle. "Although, it's nice to know that some things never change."

Anders stared at him in confusion.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that, after all these years, you're still sporting the whole feathered pauldron look with robes that scream 'I'm a rebel mage!' I'm surprised to see you in casual attire for once," Nathaniel teased. "Although, if not even a Spirit of Justice or living amongst the nobility could change your tastes in robes and armor, then I certainly have no hope."

"I— What's wrong with my robes?!"

"Nothing, if there is an actual benefit to wearing them."

Garrett snickered, so Anders turned his glare on him instead.

"Whose side are you even on?"

"The one that supports your individuality, of course," Garrett replied, not once missing a beat.

"Heh, good answer."

"You managed to charm me at least, feathers and all."

"Miracles never cease," Nathaniel deadpanned.

"Not that it matters anyhow," Anders muttered. Before he could stop himself, the words came spilling out of his mouth. "You've always been the type that cares more about how I look out of my robes than in them."

Both Garrett and Nathaniel tensed, and it took a solid minute for Anders' mind to catch up with what he said.

He instantly buried his face into his hands, his cheeks burning red with a growing blush.

"Can we forget I just said that?"

"Not a chance," Garrett chuckled. He leaned around Anders to quirk a brow up at Nathaniel. "Remind me, what was the extent of your relationship again?"

"I, uh—" Even Nathaniel grew uncharacteristically bashful at that, stumbling over his words, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Well, you see…"

"Seriously?" Anders grumbled with a nudge to Garrett’s side.

"What? I'm just curious!"

"Yeah, and if I started asking about your past relationships?" Anders peeked at him between his fingers, eyes narrowed. "Fenris? Varric?"

Garrett lifted his head up in challenge, his smirk mischievous.

"Defensive much? I'm an open book," Garrett said. "Fenris left for his own reasons, so we simply didn't work out after the fact. Varric was a one night fling, and we were both well aware of that fact beforehand."

"Uh-huh." Anders hid his grin behind his hands. "What about Sebastian?"

"What about him?"

"Would you have slept with him too, if not for his vow of chastity?"

"Oh, no." Garrett shook his head. "No, no, no. Of course not." Then, he stopped to think it over. "Well, on second thought…"

"You're shameless!" Anders laughed.

"He definitely wants to fuck me, though," Garrett responded.

"He definitely does."

"His loss, though, but you're avoiding the question." Garrett poked Anders in the arm. "Nothing to be ashamed of, you two. At the end of the day, I love you and Justice, Anders. I'm committed to you, but I do want you to be as happy as possible, and if Nathaniel—"

"If you're asking if we slept together, then yes," Nathaniel cut in, tired of the back and forth.

Anders yelped, caught off guard, but Garrett choked on his words with a snort.

"I knew it!"

"Multiple times, actually."

"Nate!" Anders scolded, but even he couldn't hold back his wide, radiant grin.

"I mean, would you be interested in doing that again?" Eyeing Nathaniel up and down, Garrett even had the audacity to wink at him, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "I wouldn't mind if you joined us for a bit of fun. With Anders' permission, of course."

Wedged in between them, Anders was suddenly all too aware of the heat emanating from their bodies.

Nathaniel considered the offer, right before he pressed himself flush against Anders' side

"Well, what do you say, Anders?" He tucked blonde hair back behind his ear, whispering to him, breathless with an all-too-familiar desire. "For old times' sake?"

Flashes of memories sparked to life in the back of his mind. Stolen moments in the barracks at Vigil's Keep. Passionate nights spent upstairs in his very own bed. All of it came rushing back to him, all at once.

One thing about Justice, he was a bit of a romantic.

Experiencing echoes of love through Kristoff's memories was one thing, but experiencing the emotion firsthand through Anders was another feeling entirely. It was like comparing a candle's heat to the burn of a pyromancer's strongest spells, intense and all-consuming.

Safe to say, Anders was feeling a little overwhelmed on all ends.

In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. 

A bright light shot through him, there and gone in an instant.

Facing Garrett and Nathaniel, he tugged at his collar with a sheepish grin, walking backwards out the door, only to bump into the frame.

"Well, would you look at that?! We're going to be late for Wicked Grace night if we don't hurry, and I, for one, can use a drink after the day I've had."

"That's not a 'no,'" Garrett noted, always the optimist.

"It's not," Anders agreed, "but I'm not answering either of you until I've played a round of cards, lost all my coin, and have some half-decent ale in my system."

With that, he left the room. Garrett and Nathaniel stood up to follow, dusting themselves off.

"I assume that means we'll resume this conversation later," Nathaniel said.

Garrett looped his arm through Nathaniel's, dragging him along with a joyous laugh.

"Definitely."

[troublemakerhawke]

i really like thinking about anders and justice BOTH falling in love with hawke.

it becomes even better if hawke is also a mage apostate.

i mean.

- hawke speaks with them like he/she would speak with any other person. that is not what anders is used to.

- hawke is compassionate. he/she sees good in anders and justice. he/she tries to understand the complexity of the situation they find themselves into to the best of his/her ability.

- hawke openly supports mages. more over, he/she ofter helps said mages to escape kirkwall, like, all the time.

- hawke is ready to announce to the whole world he/she is dating an apostate and that he/she is ready for any consequences it brings.

yes, justice isn't exactly pleased when the relationship just starts, but it is because he fears they will stray from their ultimate goal. then they understand, that hawke's goal is the same – freedom for all mages. and that hawke is ready to fight for it.

justice is probably able to force himself out if he STRONGLY disagrees with something. during anders' interactions with hawke, even romantic ones, he doesn't.

and that makes me believe he eventually falls for him/her, too.

[kerfanna]

WIP Wheneversday

@sulky-valkyrie tagged me in this <3

I only ever write porn so here you go:

They moan simultaneously and Fenris’ eyes slip closed before flying back open when Anders and Justice speak in a deep dual-tone, “You feel like home.” 

Fenris runs a finger reverently over the Fade in their skin and they moan again. “You… you feel like– like…” Fenris’ whole body shudders and he pulls them into a kiss. 

The cracks in Anders’ skin fade as their kiss turns heated again. 

“Justice likes you,” Anders pants when they part.

[blueboyluca]

“When I first heard it, from a dog trainer who knew her behavioral science, it was a stunning moment. I remember where I was standing, what block of Brooklyn’s streets. It was like holding a piece of polished obsidian in the hand, feeling its weight and irreducibility. And its fathomless blackness. Punishment is reinforcing to the punisher. Of course. It fit the science, and it also fit the hidden memories stored in a deeply buried, rusty lockbox inside me. The people who walked down the street arbitrarily compressing their dogs’ tracheas, to which the poor beasts could only submit in uncomprehending misery; the parents who slapped their crying toddlers for the crime of being tired or hungry: These were not aberrantly malevolent villains. They were not doing what they did because they thought it was right, or even because it worked very well. They were simply caught in the same feedback loop in which all behavior is made. Their spasms of delivering small torments relieved their frustration and gave the impression of momentum toward a solution. Most potently, it immediately stopped the behavior. No matter that the effect probably won’t last: the reinforcer—the silence or the cessation of the annoyance—was exquisitely timed. Now. Boy does that feel good.”

— Melissa Holbrook Pierson, The Secret History of Kindness (2015)

[whereserpentswalk]

Bigotry agaisnt trans men is spreading so I want to send some love to the transmasc community.

I love you trans men.

Love you trans men who don't pass.

Love you trans men who will never pass.

Love you trans men who don't want to pass.

Love you poc trans men.

Love you gay trans men.

Love you lesbian trans men.

Love you straight trans men.

Love you bi trans men.

Love you ace trans men.

Love you Jewish trans men.

Love you atheist trans men.

Love you pagan trans men.

Love you trans men with breasts.

Love you trans men who aren't on T yet.

Love you trans men who'll never be on T.

Love you mentally in trans men.

Love you unmedicated mentally ill trans men.

Love you trans men who self harm.

Love you trans men who've thought about ending their lives.

Love you trans men with cringe interests.

Love you trans men who dress in ways people consider cringe.

Love you trans men who'll never have sex.

Love you trans men who have a lot of sex.

Love you trans men who are sex workers.

Love you trans men who've had abortions.

Love you feminine trans men.

Love you butch trans men.

Love you trans men who still consider themselves cute and pretty.

Love you trans men who aren't physically attractive.

Love you trans men who hate being called cute or pretty.

I love you. I love you. I love you. You are valid. You are a man. You deserve to be seen as a man. You deserve to be loved and cherished as a man. You deserve to be happy. You aren't made worse by your transition, you aren't a burden on the community, we're happy you're here, we're happy you're men, we love you.

Reblog this to send love to your transmasc followers.

[vyeoh]

(The Washington Post)

For those who don't know, the US Supreme Court just ruled that states are allowed to enforce trans healthcare for minors. Undoubtedly, this will trigger a wave of other states that either hope to pass or have already passed policies to do the same. This is going to kill children, and harm more in long-lasting ways.

So, how can you help?

FUCKING VOTE. I don't care if you don't like Biden, he's not the only one on the ballot. Vote representatives into your city council who will turn our city into a sanctuary city. Vote for governors and state reps who will, even if they don't pass new protections, oppose bans being pushed through. Chsllenge and kick out conservative incumbents who are banking on their races being obscure enough for people to not vote in.

Anyone telling you voting is useless is either lying to you or grossly uninformed and think saying this is the edgy new take that will make them look hip and informed. Yes, the system is broken. But short of burning the whole thing to the ground (which personally I'm not a fan of as I quite enjoy having like. Roads and the FDA) what we can do is to change it for the better, by starting with the local races and working our way up.

[greenhorizonblog]

Homeless Care Package

Some things I'll be buying to make a care package for my local homeless person:

Socks, t- shirt, maybe underwear if it's not too weird, he probably needs it though

Dried foods; jerky, granola bars and dried fruit etc

Tasty sweet treat like a chocolate bar

Instant coffee

Thermos bottle

2 hot water bottles

Multivitamins

Bottled waters

Hand sanitiser and wet wipes

Bar of soap

Nail clipper

Small first aid kit

Gift card to a grocery store

Rain poncho

Sunscreen

Thermal blanket

Personal note letting him know that his situation is not his fault because the government and society is supposed to take care of people, but they don't because of greed and short sightedness

Feel free to take inspiration and make a care package for a homeless person in your city/town. You don't have to show your face, you can wear a face mask and sunglasses, and go with a friend if you're nervous.

It's a small gesture that can go a long way in giving a person hope. Even just cash or a grocery store gift card is a good thing to give. Life is unpredictable. It can take a turn for the worse and suddenly become very hard for anyone

We were never meant to go it alone.

[cable-salamdr]

Their album drops next week y’all better be ready to hear the bangers of these four mentally ill and traumatised teenagers (Click for better quality because tumblr hates me)

Individual shots (click for details? Idk):

[batwynn]

Alt text:

It’s ok to be disabled and happy. Being disabled does not mean you have to constantly suffer.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Hinny prompt: Harry dealing with Ginny’s new fan base.

Ginny is starting to get her first few fan letters. The harpies try and sort them but Harry spots a few on the creepier side OR at a game he overhears some fans obsessing over the fit new Chaser. Have fun with it.😉

This might not be what you meant by "fun," but right about now the most fun thing I could imagine writing was a situation in which horrible, misogynistic men get what they deserve. Can't imagine why... NSFW (language) - Please note, there's some offensive language in this one, included to illustrate how horrible these characters are; NOT meant to condone it. I hope that's clear in the tone.

It would be blasphemous to say it, but Harry strongly prefers attending Ginny’s away matches. 

The furor around the relationship between “The Chosen One” and the rising star Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies had reached dizzying heights. Fans of their relationship flock faithfully to Harpies matches in the hope they might witness Harry cheering for Ginny, or clapping for Ginny, or something equally mundane, made exciting and romantic only because he’s the one doing it. While bizarre and invasive to Harry, this parasocial fantasy is nothing short of a PR dream for the Quidditch Club. 

The Harpies administration had been thrilled to reap the benefits of this excitement, and consequently laid out Harry and Ginny’s relationship on a silver platter: whenever Harry attended a match in their home stadium, he was offered a private Top Box at a prime location, complementary Omnioculars, unlimited food and drink, and a large Weasley Banner adorning the wall behind. 

Ostensibly a generous gesture, but in reality a nuisance, because it meant every reporter in the stadium knew exactly where to direct their cameras every time Ginny so much as sniffed the Quaffle. They’d capture Harry’s reaction and then rush to print it in the paper the next day, with interpretations so loosely based in reality that Harry’s nearly impressed at the creativity.

Once, Harry had sneezed, and his pained expression in the leadup to it was painted as “trouble in paradise” for weeks because it had happened to coincide with Ginny scoring. 

On another occasion, Harry had spent much of a particularly chilly match with his hands in his pockets. Of course, the only explanation for such insane behavior was obviously to hide the nonexistent wedding ring on his finger, which clearly resulted from a secret weekend elopement in the aftermath of Ginny’s spectacular performance against Pride of Portree. 

“They’ve got a point,” Ginny had joked over their morning breakfast. “I did deserve a diamond after that match. What gives?”

“A bit late for that, haven’t you heard?” Harry had said through a bite of porridge. “We’re already getting divorced. I’m having another affair with Hermione at the weekend.”

“Damn,” Ginny sighed. “I wanted to have an affair with Hermione.”

Much more insidious, though, were the stories suggesting that Ginny’s signing and popularity was only because of her relationship with Harry. Ginny swore she didn’t give a flying fuck what the papers wrote about her, but Harry took to ripping every story that cast aspersions at her talent to shreds.

But, Harry had finally got one over on the press. He’d called an uncharacteristic press conference and made an announcement that, due to undefined “security risks” at away stadiums, he was unable to attend matches outside of Holyhead. 

The statement had been worth all of the ridiculous stories speculating about his lack of support for his girlfriend’s career, because it meant that he got to watch the Harpies vs Falcons match – donning a thick cap, sunglasses, and a scarf, in some cheap seat that no one would suspect Harry Potter of sitting in – utterly without audience. Sure, his view of the match leaves a bit to be desired, and he’s cramped next to a rowdy group of Falcons fans, but it’s wonderfully refreshing to swear angrily when Ginny is fouled without fear of a think-piece speculating about his repressed anger issues appearing in tomorrow’s Prophet. 

It’s one of his better lies, all told, and Harry’s inclined to celebrate his stroke of genius. 

It’s not until about ten minutes into the match that Harry is forced to concede he may have celebrated prematurely, as he reckons with the drawbacks to his little caper up close and personally. 

“HI! HO! FALMOUTH FALCONS! HI! HO! FALMOUTH FALCONS!”

The lads surrounding Harry are chanting with such an obnoxious, drunken fervor that Harry can hardly hear himself think, forget hearing the match commentary. They scream with such persistence for so long that they’ve nearly earned Harry’s begrudging respect, when the chant finally succumbs to raucous cheers as Falmouth is awarded a penalty.  

“Nice to have a bit of a doss match this week,” the bloke next to Harry remarks loudly after Falmouth scores their penalty. “Gives Wickford time to rest up before we play Puddlemere.”

Harry squints up at the speeding players above and confirms that Wickford, a thick-necked man and Falmouth’s star Chaser, is indeed speeding back defensively as the Harpies offensive formation takes shape, and not resting on the sidelines. Harry shoots a sidelong glance to his neighbors, perplexed. 

“Yeah, nice of the Harpies to carry on with an all-female squad,” another dark-haired lad chimes in. “I thought they were finally going to give it up after last season. What a joke.”

The first bloke, who Harry observes looks rather like Dudley, laughs ruefully. “Gwenog Jones won’t ever admit the problem, though, will she? They just don’t have the speed or the strength, everyone can see it–” 

Harry scowls. Pricks.  

“She clearly thinks the new recruit, Weasley or whatever, is going to make them competitive again, but–”

“Does she?” the Dudley-looking one snorts. “Or do they just want the Harry Potter fangirls to bring in the revenue? It’s a massive publicity stunt, honestly, just like the whole team.”

The three of them laugh, and Harry’s scowl deepens beneath his sunglasses. 

“I’m only hoping they bring back the swimsuit calendar this year,” the dark-haired one adds. “Weasley’s fit as fuck.”

The group murmurs their general agreement, and Harry takes stock of the hexes available to him. Might be time to dust off the toenail-growing one of Snape’s… But no. He can’t get hauled in front of Magical Law Enforcement again. Robards will sack him. 

“Yeah, the Harpies can fuck around with an all-women team, as long as they all look like that,” the Dudley-looking lad adds, pointing up at Ginny who is now flying overhead, and they all get a particularly good view of her from behind. The blond one jeers. “Wouldn’t mind seeing her strutting around on my calendar in a bikini.”

“I’d go so low as to call myself a Harpies fan for one of those,” the dark-haired jokes, and they all snigger. 

Sod hexing. Harry would quite like to kill them. He’s gripping the metal bars in front of him, knuckles white, imagining creative ways of doing it when Ginny - quite literally - takes matters into her own hands: all of their attention is pulled to the pitch as she feints, drawing Wickford into an ugly-looking lurch before she dodges and cannons a shot directly into the right goal. 

God, he loves her. 

“Damn,” the blond one whistles. “Fit and fair enough at Chasing, I suppose.”

“Potter’s a lucky bloke,” they joke. “I’d let her score on me all she wants.”

Yeah, Harry thinks darkly, today’s my lucky day.

Harry thinks he deserves a medal for the level of restraint he exercises, as the lads continue to offer lewd, sexist, and leering comments about Ginny for the entirety of the match. In fact, the only reason he manages not to strangle them is because Ginny, herself, is shutting them up far more effectively than he ever could. 

“Watch this, Robbins’ll catch her, look at the difference in wingspan–”

Ginny drops a beautiful pass to Gwenog who times her formation perfectly, and the Harpies score yet again. 

“Weasley’s tiny, once they let our Beaters loose on her she’ll be a goner–”

Ginny executes a perfect Sloth-Grip Roll to dodge an incoming bludger, and manages to whip a shot past the Falcons Keeper while dangling upside-down. 

“Knock her off her fucking broom!”

Wickford, clearly frustrated, fouls Ginny – hard. While the referee blows a shrill whistle, Harry lets out a stream of abuse, “Dirty fucking wanker–”

“Oi!” the Dudley-looking bloke next to Harry exclaims with glee. “Have we got ourselves a Harpies fan in our midst?”

Harry takes a measured, calming breath before answering, still staring up at the match above. “Yep.”

The group lets out a gleeful ooh. Harry knows it’s commonplace to give opposing fans a hard time at away matches, but these blokes haven’t got a clue how close Harry is to losing it. He’s about one more comment away from turning them into Aunt Marge. 

He claps when Ginny easily puts away the penalty shot, extending the Harpies already considerable lead. 

“Very progressive of you,” the blond one jokes. “Are they your girlfriend’s favorite team, or something?”

“Or something,” Harry answers through gritted teeth. 

They all jeer. “She’s got you whipped, eh? I hope the pussy’s worth rooting for a pussy-ass team like–”

“I’d watch my fucking mouth, if I were you,” Harry says, his voice low and dangerous. He realizes, dimly, that he must look far less intimidating than he’d like, with his ridiculous hat and sunglasses and scarf covering much of his face. Oh, well. Looks can be deceiving. He’s just finished up with seven weeks of an intensive dueling refresher course with the Aurors. He reckons he could incapacitate all three of them before they even had a chance to pull their wands. 

“Oooh, would you?” they jeer. “What, do you reckon if you cheer loud enough, Weasley will hear you and come over to thank you after the match?”

“Could she thank me too, you reckon?” the Dudley one adds. 

Harry can hear his own heartbeat angrily pounding in his ears. They’re all disgusting pricks, not worth a moment of his time or his energy, but he’s not stupid, either. He’d been, at first, when Ginny had originally signed with the club, and he’d just started paying more attention to the news about the team and the undermining, sexist undertones in all of it. He’d been shocked to see the nasty objectifying comments, the aspersions at their talent, the insinuation that the team was a feminist gimmick, not to be taken seriously. 

Hermione had humbled him with a sharp, “No,” when he’d asked her if she was surprised by it, too. 

He’s not as naive anymore. He realizes these blokes are watching their own team get shellacked by an all-female side, watching as Ginny plays elite Quidditch with their own eyes, and still they’ve got nothing but bullshit to say. 

Helpfully, Ginny chooses that moment to score yet another goal, her seventh. When Harry claps, they all join in mockingly. 

“Weasleyyyyy,” they call, with mocking, lovesick expressions. “Ditch the Chosen One and choose meee!”

Harry turns to them, and asks in a flat tone. “Is that the reason you’ve been rooting for such a shit team, then? You’re hoping Wickford will come and give you a cuddle after?”

“Oi!” the dark-haired one says. “Hang on–”

“That’s the only reason you’d be a fan of the fucking Falcons, isn’t it? If Wickford will take you home?”

“Nah mate, reckon all poofs are Harpies fans, aren’t you?”

The toenail hex seems woefully tame, all the sudden. “Are all Falcons fans pricks or is it just you lot?”

“Oi, relax mate,” the blond one jeers. “We’re just wondering how it all works. How many times have you got to wear a Harpies kit before they let you pull a leg over?”

“Dunno, how many times have you got to wear that Falcons kit for them to win a match?”

“Is that the new Harpies recruitment strategy?” the Dudley-looking one continues. “They only sign slags to the team, so they can shag together a fanbase?”

Harry pulls his wand so fast that they jump back, startled. “Say that again,” he growls, holding his wand in the man’s face. “Say it.”

“Watch yourself,” the blond one says, holding his hands up and pointing to his mate threateningly. “This one’s about to be an Auror, you’re about a second away from–”

What surely deadly threat Harry is a second away from, he’ll never learn, because just then, with a loud groan from the crowd, the Harpies Seeker pulls out of a spectacular dive with the snitch clasped in her fist, thereby ending the match at an embarrassing score of 260-10. 

“YES!” Harry yells, his wand dropping to his side as his eyes seek out Ginny in the air. 

He can’t remember ever finding a win so satisfying, and Ginny quite so attractive as she streaks across the pitch to hug Gwenog Jones in a midair heap, her red hair streaming behind her in the wind. When she lets go, she scans the section she knows Harry is sitting in. Looking for him, like she always does after a match, only this time she’s looking for an idiot in a shit disguise. 

He turns back to the blokes, fury and disgust with them still radiating in his bloodstream, and a reckless desire that he’ll surely regret later overtakes him. Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to pull off his scarf. 

“What was it you were saying before?” he goads, pulling their attention back to him before they move with the rushing crowd out of the stands. “One of you arseholes is going to be an Auror?”

“I am, and I’ll curse you into next week, if you like,” the Dudley looking-one taunts. “Maybe then Weasley will give you a pity ride, if that’s what you’re hoping for–”

“Interesting offer, but I’ll pass,” Harry says, as he pulls off his sunglasses. A look of vague recognition sweeps across the blond one’s face, though the others merely look a combination of angry and befuddled. 

Harry replaces his regular specs and looks to the pitch just in time to lock eyes with Ginny - she’s found him in the crowd. 

She’s halfway across the pitch, but Harry can tell by the tilt of her head that she’s wondering why he’s gone and taken off half the disguise they’d laughed so hard about earlier. He waves, and despite their earlier agreement to forgo their usual public post-match celebration, she seems to get the message and begins flying toward him. 

He turns back to the blokes and finally removes his hat, revealing the still famously recognizable scar on his forehead. All three of their expressions transform into varying degrees of horror as they recall every horrible thing they’d said over the last hour, and connect just who they said it to. “What the fuck–” one of them mutters. “What the fucking shit– is that– Harry Potter–”

Harry stares directly at the aspiring Auror, memorizing his stupid features as he reddens. “I–” he stammers.

“I wouldn’t count on the Auror thing,” Harry spits. “If you’ll pardon me, though, I’ve got to congratulate my girlfriend. Maybe thank her later, for giving me so much to cheer for.”

He turns just as Ginny arrives to hover in front of him, windswept and flushed with victory and so ruddy gorgeous he can’t think. “You were so fucking brilliant,” he tells her. 

“I know,” she says with that cheeky grin he loves so much, and then she kisses him so soundly that he quite forgets the pricks openly gaping at them from behind. 

For a moment.

He pulls back from the kiss and turns to find them making a hasty retreat from the scene, but not before he hears the telling sound of a camera pop.

The ensuing stories plastered all over the papers the next day - Harry, pictured in his ridiculous disguise entering the stadium, their victorious kiss in the stands - ensure that Harry’s never able to sneak surreptitiously into the crowd of an away match ever again. 

A trade worth making, though, when Harry gives an exclusive interview detailing every disgusting thing the three men identified in the background of the photograph had said, and when Ginny writes a cutting op-ed for the Prophet highlighting the ways in which the press had created the very narrative those three pricks had parroted. 

Of course, it doesn’t solve the problem overnight, nor did they expect that it would. But, it moves the needle, just a bit. When Ginny reads an excellent article detailing the Harpies’ unique formations without once mentioning Harry or questioning whether they might be more effective by signing male players, she smiles. 

The rejection of Winston Winthrop’s Auror application is just the frosting on the cake.

[azurechicken]

Shout-out to Justice for having two tainted hosts and still resisting being corrupted into a demon.

[mikami1992]

The situation is becoming more and more chaotic…

Over the past month, a series of kidnappings of politicians and businessmen have taken place throughout the country.

The latest victim?

Lex Luthor was the 10th victim and it occurred during a press conference in front of the Lex Corp building… The modus operandi was the same as the previous ones, a group of people with helmets and white motorcycle suits, along with green lacer weapons assaulted the tycoon and proceeded to take him away under the newly discovered Anti-Ecto law, once again there was a confrontation between the "Hunters" and the security group of the place, again nothing could be done and several of the guards were taken away under the charge of terrorism according to the guidelines of the previous law…..

o

The teenagers of Amity Park decided to make an unconventional protest to publicize and accelerate the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Laws, said proposal consists of kidnapping the politicians who approved the law (knowing about it) as well as the businessmen with more questionable practices.

The idea ended up emerging when, noticing how the GIW began to check humans for ecto-contamination, they decided to make a "Jewel" with the sole purpose of fooling the government's sensors.

Once they had it ready, the Phantom team had to explain to the rest of the town's teenagers how and why they had to use the device…

And amidst all the chaos of the situation, the crazy group of teenagers decided that they had to do something to stop the laws, so they made the following plan…

Reverse the jewels so that they create a false ectoplasmic signature.

Implant it in politicians, businessmen or any questionable person so that they are "ecto entities"

Use a scanner "approved" by the GIW, that is, by the government, and identify them as ecto entities

Proceed to kidnap them in the most public way possible while shouting anti-ecto acts.

Wait for the chaos in the government and the repeal of the laws.

[nexadarling]

Watching tristamp: oh vash has mommy issues

Watching trigun 98: oh vash has MOMMY ISSUES

Reading Trimax: Actually Vash went through an extremely traumatising event at a young age and had to face the realities of humans. Rem was there, as the twins' mother figure, to represent the good. Reconciling humanity's differences is what made him how he is, and he projects that onto Rem. In this essay I will-

[silicon-puppy-pudding]

Honorary Fright Knight

I have this idea in my head that some time after Danny, as King Phantom, has established himself as part of/ an alie to the bats, Fright Knight decides he needs to meet these "Gotham Knights" himself to be sure they are worthy of working alongside the King. (And protecting him if need be)

So Phantom tells them, "Hey, my bodyguard just wants to see if yall are up to snuff and make sure yall are "sufficient in combat" or something." And the bats are like, ok, cool! We get to meet another ghost. Supposedly the Ghost Kings own personal bodyguard too?

So they're all in front of the portal and out comes The Fright Knight. They're all tense, worried of starting a potential interdimensional conflict or something. He's looming over all of them, sizing them up, when he spots Damien's sword.

FK: You, Child. Are you skilled with that weapon?

Dami: Tt, of course. I was raised to wield it.

Rest of the bats are worried that might be taken as a threat: 😬

Then Frighty steps up to Damian and brandishes the fucking Soul Shredder and just-

FK: Good. I declare thee worthy of the title of Honorary Knight of the High King Phantom.

And Damien's sword bursts into flames for a moment before going back to normal.

Everyone is reasonably shook. Phantom's kinda embarrased. But Damian? He puffs up his chest with pride at this. Out of all the bats, all his siblings, he was deemed worthy as a knight. Sure it was an honorary knight but still.

Don't know what to do with this, it just seemed funny to me 🤗👻