#pre dragon age 2

[sulky-valkyrie]

happy friday / dadwc sulky! i just noticed your. pasta header. anyway, for a prompt, something serious for Anders/Justice or Anders/Nathaniel Howe: "things you said that I wish you hadn’t"?

Thanks! Here it is for those who don't use tumblr on the desktop and want to know wtf Syrup speaks of:

And now, without further ado, for @dadrunkwriting 1200 serious words of Nate & Anders & Justice

☆☆☆

Just a quick trip to Amaranthine to give Aura the rest of Ser Pounce-a-Lot’s supplies, Anders had said.  And bringing Justice because she's fond of him in her own way.  Be back by sundown at the latest.

It was midnight now, with no sign of him.  Nathaniel had checked the entire keep twice, once mid-afternoon, and again after dinner before leaving instructions that the sentries let him know the moment Anders returned and then had gone off to pace the library.  The fortress felt downright oppressive now that the Aedan had been summoned to Weisshaupt and Warden Constable Kader had been assigned to Ferelden in the interim.

Nothing against him personally, of course.  No, that was a lie.  Getting rid of Anders' cat had been the start of a series of 'Change for Change's Sake' decisions to bring home the point that Aedan wasn't in charge anymore.  Allowing Rolan to Join had been a mistake, and they'd all argued against it, and perhaps if they hadn't been so vocal in their protests, he wouldn't have grumbled about backwater Fereldans who don't trust their own order and too-soft predecessors who let everyone run roughshod over him.

Nathaniel supposed that, to his mind, the Wardens needed all the bodies they could get to clear out the Thaw, and after King Alistair’s success at using smites against emissaries, he wanted more Templars in the ranks.  Former Templars, Kader had admonished Anders for his vehemence.  They're leaving the Chantry for this and you will work with them like any other brother or sister in arms. 

Anders has been so pissed off that Nate had needed to cover his mouth and drag him from Kader's office.  He had every right to be furious, given the Chantry's attitude toward apostates in general and Anders in particular, but summoning a lightning storm in the acting Commander's office wouldn't help his argument.  Nate had tried to explain to him that night that he needed to pick his battles, that Kader's decision had been made and fighting with him now wouldn't help, but it only made his anger worse.

It's not a battle I have a choice in! Anders had snarled right before stomping out of their shared quarters.  Rolan wants me dead, and you want me to just, just, wait for him to try?  What sweet fucking vindication we'll have when there's a sword in my chest!

They hadn't shared a bed since.  In fact, they'd barely spoken in the last two weeks, except to discuss the duty roster.  Nathaniel missed him.  Not just the sex, but everything else.  The fact that Anders had gone out of his way that morning to tell him he was leaving had given him hope that this rift between them was mending, but now, hours after his expected return, it only made him worry.  He'd wanted someone to know where he was.  To look for him if he disappeared. Nathaniel checked Anders' corner room again, then the clinic, then the barracks.  No Anders.

Also, more concerningly, no Rolan.

When had he last seen him?  Was it before or after Anders left?  Didn't matter.

He didn't remember making the decision to leave, or saddling up a horse, or riding out, just suddenly found himself already on the road, looking desperately for any sign of Anders or Rolan.  He was about to give up when the faint smell of burning hair caught his attention.  He followed it carefully, guiding the horse off the highway and through the trees until it refused to go any further, then tied its reins to a tree and kept going on foot.  The moonlight was enough that he could see a clearing up ahead.  As he picked his way closer through the underbrush, the reek of fire and smoke gave way to the stench of battle; blood, offal, and the lingering electrical smell of too much magic.  

Nathaniel steeled his nerves and took a slow deep breath.  Anders and Justice were probably dead, and probably surrounded by Templar and Warden corpses.  They'd fight tooth and nail rather than surrender, and, realistically, Rolan would never have given them the option.  It was going to be awful to see, but someone had to.  And he owed Anders that much.

He pushed through the last few trees and bushes and stopped, aghast: he'd been prepared for a battlefield, but a massacre.  Charred body parts were strewn about like macabre Satinalia decorations: littering the ground, hanging from branches, and, in at least two instances, bones had gone through tree trunks.  Blood and shit were splattered on everything, and what little grass remained had been scorched and trampled. 

The only figure not obviously missing a limb was Anders himself. He was on his hands and knees, and retching.  There was an enormous wound in his back closing up before Nate's eyes as he neared.  When his boot crunched something (please let it be a twig and not a body part), Anders' head jerked up, revealing a mouth full of blood.

“What have you done?” Nate winced as soon as the words left his mouth.  That wasn't the question he meant to ask, but those bloodstained teeth and haunted eyes had been too much of a shock.

Anders wiped his mouth with a filthy soot-covered sleeve and stood up unsteadily.  “They started it.”

Nate spun in a slow circle, trying to examine the carnage clinically.  "And you finished it.  Where's Justice?"

He laughed harshly, an ugly rasping cackle that sent shivers down Nate's spine.  "Why do you think they attacked me?"

It took several seconds for the implications of Anders' words to make sense.  "He's . . . you're . . . he's inside you?"

"We are one."  Cracks of blue light spread across Anders' skin as Justice’s voice boomed out from his mouth.

Nate felt sick.  This wasn't right.  None of it was.  From Templars joining the order, to then trying to kill Anders, to Anders and Justice's spirited self-defense, pun horribly intended, to this?  His lover (though perhaps former lover was more accurate) willingly becoming possessed?

"You have to go."  It was the wrong thing to say, but it was the only thing he could say.  "Kader isn't going to - if Aedan was here, this would never have happened."

Justice frowned.  "He is a man of honor, and we simply defended ourselves."

"No," Nate said, shaking his head and stepping close enough that the energy crackling off of the abomination made the hair on his arms stand up.  "You literally tore them apart, and their blood is on your lips.  This is unnatural and inhuman, and he'll execute you for it."  He cupped his cheek with one hand, and the contact made his skin tingle.  "There's no safety in the Grey Wardens for you, not anymore, maybe there never was."  He glanced around the clearing again.  "I'll cover this up, say I couldn't find you, suggest Rolan probably killed you then deserted, but you have to go.  Now."

The blue light faded away as Anders' knees buckled and he sagged against Nate’s chest.  "They started it," he said again, plaintive and angry.  He spat blood on the ground then stepped out of Nate’s arms.  "I'd ask for a kiss goodbye, but . . ." he trailed off.  "For whatever it's worth, I didn't want to be right.  Tell them I'm sorry."

He felt hollow inside.  "I can't, you're dead."

"I suppose I am."  Anders pulled his tattered robes tighter as he turned to walk out of the clearing.

"Where are you - Anders, what are you going to do?"

Anders paused but didn't look back.  "You can't have it both ways, Nate.  Go home, let me die in peace."

[southern-stark]

The Aftermath by SouthernStark19 - Multifandom https://archiveofourown.org/works/47462209

Wrote another Dragon Age fic!

This one taking place after the events of Dragon Age: Awakening and right after the events of Anders’s short story, where my canon Grey Warden, Ashira Cousland, discovers what her friend has done and tries to search for him…before he can harm anyone else.

[cadaveerie]

reblog for more answers? this is about all games, very broadly. even if you change it mid game or at some points, what's the one you usually play the most? feel free to make clarifications if you want in the reblogs/replies :] also, this is obviously judgement free. all options are completely fine, we're all different and have different interests.

[pavus]

PROMPT : Qunari. DRAGON AGE 2 ERA. Words: 1077. Characters: Verity Hawke x Isabela.

Isabela was not easily deterred when it came to Verity.

Her lover was even more handsome than Aveline… and larger, as well, which was an impressive feat in and of itself. She stretched far above the rank and file – a veritable tower of bird, standing proud amongst the squalor of Lowtown and the perfumed rabble of Hightown. Had she been a head shorter or half as wide, Isabela might not have felt quite so safe in her company.

Especially not with how often her work drove her into the damned Qunari encampment. 

If anyone else had been so intent on working with them, she might’ve said her farewells months prior, but the truth was that Isabela didn’t want to be freed of Hawke’s inner circle.

She liked Hawke’s inner circle.

Very much so, in fact.

READ THE REST ON AO3.

[biancadavri]

varric at full rivalry is actually the funniest guy in thedas imagine getting kidnapped TWICE because of hawke and STILL refusing to bother them about it until absolutely necessary. while you’re freezing your ass somewhere far away from civilization and surrounded by demons. and you don’t even like them that much.

[trans-ruffboi]

so my Opp Onion is that Anders' Martyr spell (and entire Vengeance mode) is functionally the same thing as blood magic in that it's Justice using Anders' actual life force, because the way that mortals do blood magic is effectively an (occasionally clumsy) out-of-Fade recreation of how spirits/demons do magic, but Anders and Justice cannot accept this because of their own (valid due to circumstances but misled) fears.

like, spirits are made entirely of magic and the Fade itself, and they can cast spells or use magical effects because of that. more powerful spirits can use more powerful spells. and when they're in the Fade, this is NBD because the magic they're using is easily replaced by absorbing more of the Fade's ambient energy, and the world is incredibly mutable. and even out of the Fade, there is ambient magic around that they can recover with, but it takes longer and is more difficult. (this gets all sorts of fucked up by the Breach but that's later)

but where blood magic comes in is that, to a creature made of magic, mana and life force aren't all that different. so if a spirit like, say, Audacity, were to teach a mage their magic, how they get power and use it, then large amounts that power would likely have to come from the life force because mortals are limited in mana in a way that spirits aren't. like Merrill said, she'd use lyrium if she had buckets of the stuff, but she doesn't, so she's working with blood. and if a spirit like, say, my best friend Justice over here, were to help his mage use magic, or use magic through him, converting the life force spent in battle into mana that Anders knows how to use seems like a very natural thing for them to do.

and even mortals have a connection between mana and life force. there's a physical draw on connecting to the Fade for magic, and it's mentioned in the codex "Mana and the Use of Magic" from the Mage Origin and in Merrill's home in DA2 (wow a link between life force and mana in Merrill's house in particular?) that a mage can overtax their mana and start burning their life force and hurt themselves.

blood magic is just directly accessing that life force instead of reaching into the Fade and burning the whole mana pool first. but Anders and Justice don't see what they do as blood magic the way Merrill sees hers as blood magic because blood magic is what demons do, and Justice isn't (CAN'T be) a demon.

as we see from spirits like Justice or Cole, many spirits don't even really know the difference between spirits and demons (Justice pretty directly says that for him it's because of fear that understanding demons will bring him closer to becoming one), but blood magic is associated with demons because spirits believe teaching it is something a demon does, that demons are the ones over-concerned about mortals and have mortals use their own bodies separate from the pure Fade to do magic wrong. you see Anders' question Merrill trying to see if she could've done blood magic without a demon telling her because to him that'd be relatively okay, and I definitely think a lot of his hatred for blood magic isn't just the indoctrination or his palatability argument, it's because Justice is very much afraid of being a demon.

and these are all beliefs shaped by mortals as well, because what exists in and shapes the Fade reflects the mortal world. spirits' fears of demons are shaped by mortals' fears of demons, and how spirits manifest to interact with mortals and each other is shaped by mortal feelings and actions.

anyways, Anders is the loml and also a big hypocrite. but he has to deny that part because he and Justice are running on at least 25% fear at all times. they both want to help each other so so badly, but they don't quite understand what they're doing. and even if I don't buy that Anders' rage perverted Justice, them both being afraid of themselves, and each other, and of hurting each other, is definitely holding themselves back and causing them pain.

[eye-of-yelough]

Once again going insane about doing Legacy right between All That Remains and the last act 2 mission (forgor the name) and headcanon-ing that they all take place within a month

Like imagine. You are Hawke. Your mum just kicked it. You’re in mourning, haven’t left the house since, and you get RAIDED by Carta dwarf cultists. Then, in no particular order, you

- find out about some Really Weird Shit your dad did with Wardens, and that your (recently deceased) mother was almost killed by this guy you sort of trusted

- venture in to the deep roads and kill an Old Fucking God.

Oh and by the way during this, the love of your life, only person you have left, light in darkness is being driven insane by said Old God in front of you, and talking about how you would be better off without him. And then he attacks you.

So your mum just died and your mourning was interrupted by This Shit. You’re nearing the end of your fucking rope down here but by some miracle you survive and get back to Kirkwall to mourn in peace. And now add “process this traumatising insanity” to that list.

eeeexcept you can’t do that actually. You come home to a letter from the Viscount begging for your aid to help his son. Oh, of course, Seamus. He was such a nice boy you can’t let him die. So you go Do That.

And THEN. Aveline, the woman partially responsible for your mothers death like TWO WEEKS AGO shows up in your house with another mess for you to clean up. Also your best friend is there too saying she’s gonna die. And she leaves and you think she’s gonna be gone forever and. Ok this is getting really long.

Fast forward, Arishoks dead, you’re in mourning and every hightown noble feels entitled to your company all of a fucking sudden because you’re a “Champion” now. Hooray.

[just1gnome]

HES JUST A BOY.

that tiktok trend thats been going around but its my sweet boy dimitri hawke

[teine-mallaichte]

Whumpmass in July day 21

At some point I really need to start whumping some other characters... but I saw this prompt and my first thought was far too well formed not to run with...

Fandom: Dragon age 2 Character: Fenris @whumpmasinjuly-archive day 21 - Prompt abandoned. Premise: When Danarius left Fenris in Seheron, when the only person he had every really known, and the only life he could remember sailed away leaving him alone in a world he couldn't possibly understand... as much as years later that could be framed as his escape from slavery, on that moment is was an abandonment.

The battlefield was chaos; screams, clashing steel, the hum of the arcane, the scent of blood, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Through the maelstrom, he moved with skill and precision, without conscious thought, his master's orders guiding his every action. Each strike, each parry, a testament to the brutal training he had undergone.

The tide of battle shifted, the call for retreat echoing across the field. He looked around desperately, he eyes finding his master amidst the fray, struggling against a relentless enemy. Without a moment's pause, he fought his way through, his body a shield, his sword an extension of his will. Blood slicked his hands, not all of it his own, and pain lanced through him where a blade found its mark. Yet, he pressed on, driven by the singular purpose of protecting his master.

They reached the boats at the edge of the shore, his master was usured aboard, but he was stopped.

"There is no room for a slave."

His eyes widened in disbelief as the guard's words sank in. The chaos of battle still raged behind him, but the true storm was within. He glanced at his master, hoping for a word, a glance, anything to suggest that this was some kind of mistake. But his master's eyes remained fixed on the horizon, cold and distant.

“Master?” He managed to choke out, his voice a strained whisper. He wanted to believe it was a mistake, that the master would call him aboard, that this was some cruel joke.

The master’s eyes briefly met his, an emotion flashing through them—a flicker of something distant, perhaps pity or regret, but it was gone as quickly as it came. The guard's firm hand gripped his shoulder, conflicting instints warred within him, to gight, to comply, he looked to the master, needing guidence.

"We have no space for an injured slave," the guard reiterated.

His world shattered in that moment, a crack that splintered his very soul. The words, the finality in them, were a hammer blow to his heart. His master’s gaze, once a beacon, was now a void, unfeeling and detached. The guard’s hands were firm, unyielding, as they pushed him back towards the shore.

“Move aside. You’re slowing us down.”

“Master!” His cry was a raw, desperate plea, but the boat was already pushing off, its oars cutting through the water with a relentless rhythm.

He staggered, the pain of his injuries forgotten in the face of this new, deeper agony. He tried to follow, feet stumbling over the wet sand as the waves lapped at his ankles. The wet sand clung to his feet, the waves lapping at his ankles, growing higher with each wave. But he could not swim—slaves were not permitted to learn such skills. The cold salt water stung his wounds, mingling with the blood, and the chill seeped into his very bones.

But the boat sailed on, his master’s figure growing smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon. He had never known anything but his master’s commands, the cruel affection that had shaped his existence. Now, abandoned, he was adrift in a world that suddenly felt vast and hostile.

He stumbled back to the shore, the salty water mixing with the blood from his wounds. Each step was a struggle, his strength ebbing with every movement. Collapsing onto the wet sand, he lay there, gasping for breath, the agony of his injuries merging with the deeper pain of abandonment. His master's face haunted him, that final, indifferent look a knife twisting in his heart.

For a long time, he lay there, the sounds of the battlefield fading into the background. When he finally mustered the energy to move, the sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the shore. He forced himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily, and looked around. The beach was littered with the remnants of battle: broken weapons, discarded armor, and bodies of the fallen.

He was alone.

(accompanying art)

[molliehaswords]

I’m not sure which is worse:

BioWare saying practically everything is “about a year ago” and not aging characters appropriately (*cough* Wynne, Loghain, Eamon, Teagan *cough*)

Or Bethesda setting things “after the Great War” which was 25-30 years ago but having characters talk like the event was less than a decade ago and only aging characters maybe 10 years. (*glares at Skyrim and Fallout 76… and a little bit at Fallout 4 too*)

[motherofmabari]

Night Terrors - Torpor

Barely edited WIP of the DA2 quest Night Terrors exploring Fenris's reaction to being in the Fade for the first time. Fenhawke, pre-relationship, they argue 😁

--

The itch was the first thing he noticed. Not the strange, too bright colors, not the lightness of the air, but the itch. 

His tattoos responded to this place, made themselves known without his reaching for them, and Fenris didn't like it one bit. 

"Oh!" the exclamation came from his right. Merrill spun slowly in place, taking in their surroundings. Stone walls soared above them farther than the eye could see, the gray rock somehow containing multitudes of color. Below them was a courtyard ringed with Templars - or were they merely statues? None moved so much as a finger, but Fenris could not shake the feeling that something malicious stood inside that gleaming silver armor. 

"This looks like the Gallows" Hawke said in a hushed voice. He jumped - had she been behind him a moment ago? She gave him an odd look. "You ok?"

"I'm fine." He snapped. She pursed her lips but said nothing, instead turning to Isabela on her other side. 

"The Fade can feel a little strange" she said just a little too loudly, pretending the advice was meant for the pirate. "But it's nothing to worry about. It only takes a minute or so to adjust." The tips of his ears burned. He hated this. He should have said no. Why didn't he say no? 

It was the pity. He couldn't take the Maker-dammed pity in Hawke's eyes when she told him he didn't have to do this, it was asking too much, they could manage with just the three of them. He had his pride, for fuck's sake. He could not accept it, not from her or anyone else. They needed a warrior, he was at hand, therefore he was going and that was that. 

Now he stood in the Fade, tattoos all but writhing beneath his skin, and she said it would feel 'a little strange'. He would have laughed at the understatement, if he felt like laughing. 

He did not. "The sooner we get moving the sooner we can leave" he said pointedly. "What do we do now?" 

"This is Feynriel's dream, we should probably start by finding Feynriel" Merrill said reasonably. "There are some halls leading off the courtyard, look-" she pointed towards the opposite side of the room. On either side was a corridor, and in the center stood a stone archway. Its iron gate hung partially open, the room beyond awash in shadow, the depths blacker than pitch and richer, somehow, than normal shadows. One look down the halls showed they were the same, empty voids for all Fenris could see. It unnerved him in a way shadows never did on his side of the Veil. This place was like nails on a chalkboard, everything just a little bit off, a little too much. "Pick one and let's go" he grunted. 

Fenris found his nerves wound tighter and tighter the further they moved into the courtyard. His ears strained to hear what he knew was there-What was that? Something heavy dragged against stone, scales scraping the floor, a shifting behemoth obscured by the gloom beyond the grate. 

"Visitors!" Fatigue hit Fenris like a wave as the voice boomed out at them. He staggered under its weight, fighting the weariness that settled into his bones. The creature oozed into the light, oily wisps clinging to its body as it came forth. Hawke grunted, struggling to speak. "You… You stop that!" she insisted drowsily, "Or I won't play nice with you!" 

What did she mean by that? 

"You want to play nice, do you..?" The demon's voice was deep and rich, its tone betraying a hint of delight at the prospect. The fatigue lessened, and suddenly Fenris was alert again, though somewhat weakened. 

"Perhaps" she said carefully, eyeing the demon. Fenris glared at her, silently frustrated with his own surprise. 

"We're looking for a boy. Maybe you've seen him?" He caught Isabela's eye, saw the question written on her face. Are we really talking to this thing? If it came down to it, could the two of them stop Hawke from making a deal with a demon? He wasn't sure. Merrill would be no help, in fact she'd probably fight against them, she already had her own little pet on Sundermount so of course she'd see no problem with Hawke doing the same. 

The demon laughed, long and slow, only stopping when Hawke demanded to know what was so funny. 

"You... You're looking for 'a boy' " the demon said, still chuckling. Its head swayed hypnotically, glowing eyes peering out from under a hood that kept the rest of its face in shadow. "You… and everyone else. You're looking for the Dreamer… but, unfortunately, you've come too late… The battle is almost at an end… Only two still vie for him, and neither foe could you ever hope to defeat…" It spoke languidly, a mocking lilt in its voice. 

"Oh, I doubt that. We're much stronger than we look" Hawke shot back, a confident grin splitting her face. 

"Are you? Now that is interesting…" the demon was almost gleeful, surely Hawke could see she was walking into a trap? 

"Do you intend to 'save' the boy, then?" it asked, feigning disinterest. "You should know… He's gone quite mad. Even if you do save him now… More will come, and, eventually… he'll be claimed."

"Is that so? Then we are in a pickle, aren't we" Hawke said, then gestured towards the demon. "I take it you have a solution?" 

"Me…? Well, now that I think of it… If you are as mighty as you say, and can triumph over Caress and Wryme… Perhaps we could… help each other…?" 

Her face told him nothing. Fenris ground his teeth in frustration, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He was certain she couldn't be this stupid, so what was she doing? 

"If your plan involves handing Feynriel over to you with a pinky promise you won't hurt anyone or abuse his power, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." Her voice was warm and regretful, even conciliatory. "But as a consolation prize, can I offer you a free vacation starting… now?" 

Light blazed around the demon and it was sucked backwards, the shadows beneath his hood somehow conveying shock as he was neatly dismissed. Merrill bounded up from Hawke's other side, looking very pleased. 

"We did it!" she cried. Hawke mirrored her exhilaration, scooping Merrill into a hug and cheering. 

Fenris looked at Isabela, who shrugged back. His irritation spiked - they'd had a plan for this and hadn't even bothered to tell them! No concern for either of them, the mages just did what they wanted. He shouldn't have expected anything less. 

"Yes, wonderful, you made us think you were making a deal with the first demon you came across because you couldn't be bothered to let us in on the joke first" Fenris sneered, ignoring the hint of relief in his gut that she hadn't, in fact, crossed that line. 

Hawke and Merrill stopped celebrating, hurt on both their faces. 

"Come on Fenris, we knew they wouldn't do something like that to Feynriel, right? And it was so obvious, not even Hawke would fall for that scam" Isabela said with a laugh. Fenris stared at her. He knew she'd wondered too, shared his fear, so why was she pretending now? 

"We didn't mean to leave you out" Hawke said quietly. "It was just an idea we had, something to take care of the less powerful demons without tiring ourselves out." Merrill nodded, moving to hug Isabela instead. 

"I'm so sorry! We should have told you, we didn't even know we were going to try it today until now, or we absolutely would have, we really didn't mean to scare you! Hawke was only giving me time to work a banishment! " Isabela hugged her back and smiled reassuringly. "It's alright, kitten, really. Don't you worry about me." 

Fenris glared at Hawke. She was the one he was angry with, not Merrill. Why not Merrill? He dismissed the thought as soon as it came. It didn't matter. 

"I'm sorry, Fenris. You're right. We should have told you." Her mouth tightened into a thin line, the anger she'd successfully kept from her voice still written all over her face. That she had the gall to be angry at him right now made him want to kill something. Preferably a demon. He snorted derisively and strode past her, picking one of the two halls at random. Unnatural shadows or not, he wanted to get away from her, and the only way out was through. 

[nebulousmistress]

An Anatomist's Notes on Abomination

Height

This is the AO3 edit of the Height post

A palate cleanser after the last two went that hard. Anders is ridiculously tall and nobody can change my 5 foot lol mind. Justice is Avvar, have you SEEN how tall those dudes are. If Justice were allowed to alter Anders' body fully, before he Fell to Vengeance, Anders would have found himself eye to eye with the Arishok.

Justice does not go that far. Just a little bit. Just enough to tweak the ratios of Anders' body toward 'uncanny valley' territory.

[mxanigel]

Before the Deal

The inimitable @mxkelsifer not only ran the Gwaren Castle Wintersend Exchange but also wrote an incredible Anders & Justice fic for me:

I am still not coherent over this fantastic gift *flails*. SO MANY FEELINGS. It really captures the struggle Anders faces over how to help Justice, a struggle built up from Justice inhabiting a corpse and templars hating the idea of mages escaping their control to live as Wardens and the all-too-fragile power balance between the Amaranthine Wardens and the Templar Order. And his ultimate decision to merge with his friend makes perfect sense through the build-up written here. Thank you again and again, my friend. <3

[cloudeling]

its so funny bcus ill go weeks without writing anything n be totally chill w thatbut then when i get an idea that latches onto my brain enough for me 2 actually start typing im like hooooooly shit i love writing

[shannonsketches]

You think you'll never get old and then one day you log on and there's a "First Manga" poll that Bleach, Sailor Moon, Naruto, and DBZ didn't make the cut for

[hermesxanubis]

"There's always secrets to discover within magic. You just have to unravel it." Fenrir Damaris, 9:22, Dragon.