Oh, this will be fun!

Oh, this will be fun! indep. anders from dragon age: awakening / dragon age ii penned by jw ; 18+ follows from justwanderingmuses est. aug. 2023

[altuspavus]

smiles. imagine............... if i come back for realsies this time

[thegnawednoble]

hidden codex from the templar quarters in kinloch hold

nice mage of the week: Finn (studied nicely, helped the senior enchanters by revolutionising the library sorting system)

naughty mage of the week: Anders (bit my ass :( )

[freedcmscall]

Baldur's Gate III Verse

General Details, more in-depth post to come hopefully this weekend

Anders in BG3/the Forgotten Realms in general is very much the same, personality-wise, to a combination of DA:A and DAII Anders.

General details of note:

He's a Cleric of the Life Domain (unsurprising)

He worships Tyr, the god of Justice

He runs a small free clinic which also sells potions in Baldur's Gate\

chaotic good alignment to no one's surprise

that's it that's all i've got written so far but it's basic details that are enough

[altuspavus]

Going to actually do some writing tomorrow, meant to do it today but I'm just gonna be in bed and on disc/ord instead. Also hopefully finally going to be making myself a terrible but nonetheless extant promo for my anders blog because. i'm just so bad at those.

[soulrph]

sexual tension prompts.

i deleted my old blog by mistake, so i’m revamping these!! if you want to reverse them, add a +, like so: [ PIN ] + and the roles will switch! these prompts are inspired by THIS MEME! they’re designed for all muses, regardless of whether they’ve interacted before or not!

[ PIN ] : sender pins receiver against a wall.

[ HANDS ] : our muses’ hands touch. (anything from grazing past or the hand holding content we all deserve.)

[ GAZE ] : sender watches receiver from across a crowded room.

[ GUIDE ] : in order to guide the receiver, sender presses a hand against the small of their back.

[ INVITE ] : sender asks receiver into a private room with nobody else present.

[ TOUCH ] : our muses touching one another discreetly but intimately in a public setting.

[ LICK ] : sender licks something from their thumb or lips in front of receiver.

[ SLEEVES ] : sender rolls up their sleeves to reveal their forearms.

[ SMIRK ] : while interacting with receiver, sender can’t resist a smirk.

[ NECKLACE ] : sender fastens a necklace around receiver’s neck, leaning in close to do so.

[ CLOSE ] : our muses are in a position which leads to the sender stepping intimately closer to the receiver.

[ UNBUTTON ] : due to heat or stress or other reasons, sender unbuttons the top of their shirt to reveal their neckline.

[ DANCE ] : our muses dance together in close quarters.

[ DEFEND ] : sender physically intervenes between receiver and a source of unwanted attention.

[ TEXT ] : sender texts intimate content to receiver.

[ PHONE ] : while on the phone with receiver, sender flirts teasingly during the call.

[ BEHIND ] : unexpectedly, sender arrives close to receiver from behind, taking them by surprise.

[ WET ] : our muses find one another in a torrential downpour of rain, both soaking wet.

[ LEAN ] : sender leans tantalisingly close to receiver to retrieve something or catch their attention.

[ LOOK ] : sender initiates intense eye contact with receiver.

[ ALONE ] : our muses find one another alone in an isolated setting.

[ ASK ] : sender asks receiver if they’re single.

[ WHISPER ] : sender leans close to receiver’s ear in order to whisper something to them.

[ BRUSH ] : sender reaches forward to brush a strand of receiver’s hair from their eyes.

[ STEADY ] : sender steadies receiver by placing their hands on their waist when the receiver almost falls against them.

[ SMILE ] : sender begins to grin at something the receiver is saying, like a big unstoppable grin.

[ PULL ] : sender pulls receiver into their side as they’re walking together.

[ STRADDLE ] : while sparring, sender gains the upper hand and pins the receiver in place, straddling their waist in the process.

[ BLADE ] : sender, having been enemies with the receiver, places a knife to their throat, but does nothing else.

[ STARE ] : while the receiver is speaking, the sender’s gaze drifts to their lips.

[ UNDERCOVER ] : while pretending to be a couple for the sake of a mission or other purpose, sender and receiver find themselves giving a Remarkably Convincing performance that leaves them questioning how platonic they really are.

[ AFTER ] : sender has just impulsively and passionately kissed the receiver without any warning nor apparent reason. how does the receiver respond?

[ REMARK ] : after someone passes a remark on what a cute couple the seemingly platonic sender and receiver are, the sender casts a meaningful glance at the receiver, expecting them to say something about it first.

[ PHOTOGRAPH ] : as someone volunteers to take a picture of them on a day out, sender instinctively wraps an arm around the receiver to steady them, holding them close for a photo that turns out to be more romantic than they were expecting.

[ CHALLENGE ] : after the receiver teasingly suggests that the sender is a terrible kisser, sender immediately and fervently proves them wrong with a long, passionate kiss that leaves the receiver taking back what they said.

[ LANGUAGE ] : sender begins to speak seductively and fluently with the receiver in another language.

[ CONSTANT ] : after days/weeks/months/years of endless flirting back and forth, sender finally dares the receiver to go beyond flirting and break the tensions between them properly.

[venustapolis]

Will-o'-the-Wisp (detail) (Lev Lerch, 1888)

[freedcmscall]

Thinking about how every time I write a reply and there's something in the prose about justice, I bold it as a way to indicate the dual thoughts of Justice and Anders overlapping there and man, I hope to eventually write out angrier threads or answers or hcs, where Anders gets to argue, where Justice makes more of an active presence; messy, angsty, angry threads — because no muse is perfect and Anders is so far from that (also hurt threads, Anders scared of what he's becoming, of what he is, of what he's done to a Spirit, of if he's the problem and has warped his Spirit friend into a Demon)

[mostwantedpotato404]

Maybe he’s a healer but he can defend himself

[scriptorxfabularum]

@freedcmscall

     SHE HAD BEEN SO SURE that she had traveled far enough to the east that there was NO POSSIBILITY of running into anyone that could know her. Most mages at the Tower weren’t allowed to travel this far, and those who were would not be looking for her themselves. The templars might have been looking for her if they didn’t still think she was with the Warden. And her parents didn’t LIKE traveling this far. So she had felt at least somewhat safe.

     So when she had stepped into the local brothel - she had learned one very valuable survival skill from someone she had encountered on the road, and that was to stay in a brothel if you have a choice, for the people who stayed there knew the value of discretion - she had frozen in place as her gaze had slowly moved across the faces of those already there and had fallen onto one familiar.

     The moment of panic and the urge to turn and run passed fairly quickly though, when she realized this person was MOST DEFINITELY not a pursuer. In fact, she was FAIRLY CERTAIN that this person was in the exact same boat as she was; attempting to stay ahead of the Chantry and their Templars.

     Still moving carefully, eyes flitting left and right to make sure that there wasn’t anyone else who WOULD want to drag her back kicking and screaming, she walked up to the man. “Anders?” Her voice was low, attempting not to draw any attention to herself and the other mage. “Is that really you?”

[freedcmscall]

Anders was good at running, at hiding. Or he liked to consider himself good at it. He'd had plenty of experience by this time, and they hadn't caught up to him yet. It helped that he rarely stayed in one place long enough to keep up the same grooming and self-care routine he had when in the Circle. The extra scruff on his face (closer now to a beard than merely being called scruff), slightly tangled hair, and a traveling cloak he'd haggled down to near-free hiding his appearance made him look more like any other Fereldan traveler than an escaped mage. He had gotten good at laying low, at giving a fake name and responding to it naturally and in turn, rarely re-using the same pseudonym so as to keep his trail as sparse as possible. He was so sure that to anyone else, he was nobody of note. He could likely even visit the Chantry and be allowed to pray and walk out of there without a Templar escort to his likely demise.

Good things only ever last so long, as he had learnt years ago, though. Watching everyone's movements about him without giving too many signs that he was highly alert had almost become second nature to him while on the run. So it was no surprise when he noticed a woman moving towards him, potentially even before she had fully committed to it. A brief thought flitted through his head, perhaps she thought that he was an employee of the establishment, but that was quickly thrown out: with his current appearance, there was no way that anyone could think such a thing.

His entire body tensed at the sound of his name, a cursed, horrible thing. This was it, this was their attempt to recapture him. Instinct kicked in and he pulled at the threads of the Fade, defensive intention woven into the way which he meant to reshape it to his bidding before he stopped himself short. First, with realisation that there were many a patron about and at least one of them was as likely to be a Templar in secret as much as someone devoted to their 'cause' who would immediately turn him in. He prayed silently, quickly, that the former wasn't true, that no one would have felt his brush with the Fade. Second, with another realisation: this was someone that he knew. Not in the way which he knew the Templars who most liked to torment him, either.

Furtive glances about the room showed no one had reacted to his impulse almost-reaction. Similarly, no one was tailing the woman, they were as safe as one could ever be. "…It may or may not be." Still, it was best in Anders' opinion to be on the safe side. "Depends on by whom and for why the question's being asked."

[savingthrcw]

"You strike me as a 'slipped getting out of bed and died' type, but yeah, a cliff works too. I'm Darkspawn type or alternatively eaten by Mabaris..." Neria wrinkled her nose, "All are acceptable but the noble one. No human is going to kill me, ask Loghain." There was still some poison in her voice when she mentioned him, though it was nothing compared to Jowan. Damned Jowan. But that was nothing Anders would know about and she shouldn't sout her mood thinking about him.

"I did," she retorted while he spoke, after he told her she didn't have to give him that talk, but her expression turned into one of disgust and long-suffering as he kept going about the speech. "No, actually I started with 'so, anything interesting happened lately?' and they thought it was funny, so I went for the comedy route. Shockingly, I didn't want to have a heartfelt talk with a thousand strangers. And I didn't want to promise peace and happiness nor talk about the fact that we still had to go after all the Darkspawn that was still infesting Ferelden, so in the end I mostly invited them to celebrate and kept cracking jokes, which makes me rethink my career choices, I should've done drunk stand-up comedy... Now, the damn Landsmeet was the shitshow. Loghain was a backstabbing ass, and I had literally walked into torture chambers for those people earlier, and rescued a bunch, let alone all the work I had been doing all over Ferelden, and after my arguments they were still going to arrest me. Good thing they still let me duel with him or I would have set the place on fire..." truthfully there was no real bite in her words there, unlike when speaking of Loghain himself, because what did they know.

"What do you mean solely to avoid Templars, are you telling me it wasn't my charm and love at first sight that made you join me? I thought we had something, you are going to wound me like this? I'm taking the cat back."

[freedcmscall]

Anders grumbled to himself, shaking his head. 'Slipped getting out of bed and died,' his arse. If anything, tripping over a cat was more likely. "A human can kill me if he'd like," he shrugged, "Long as they aren't a Templar or otherwise Chantry-affiliated. I'd rather burn everything down than have my life ended by one of them." A hint of anger crept its way into Anders' speech without intent, but given the situation they had just dealt with, surely it was understandable at the very least.

He was glad, then, for the distraction that the continued focus on the speech provided. Anything to get off of more serious topics. If you asked Anders, those were best suited for moments before perceived death, to be brushed off as dramatics should they survive and to be heroic last words otherwise. No reason not to enjoy life to its fullest whenever possible. He knew it was very likely he wouldn't think such a way had he not had his freedom and life stripped away when he was only 12 years old, but there was no way to change the past, so instead he made efforts to accept even the worst parts of himself. "To me, it sounds like you know the way to the public's heart better than most nobles. Drinks and humour — what more does the average Fereldan farmer want?" He managed a laugh at that, knowing how right he was. Most of his better experiences in life involved one or both.

"Terribly sorry you have to learn this way, but I don't believe in 'love at first sight'." Even with Karl, it had been a slow move from friendship to love. And his heart still ached at the thought of Karl, surely suffering alone, if not dead by then. No, Karl was strong, he surely wasn't dead. Anders shook his head to clear himself of such morbid thoughts, better suited to his bed when he was stricken with insomnia. "You will not touch Ser Pounce. Besides, I've trained him in battle. If you take him from me, I'm sure he'll eat your eyeballs."

[mostwantedpotato404]

Anders off duty in his clinic

[eritvita]

And Roland squints to him: unbelieving for free advice and granted grafts of newish skin, but hypocritical for that Want of offering Trade. He flips to his satchel, setting down his mostly-empty cup, and flips the flap of that leather-bound bag, which is always upon Roland's person, to rummage for something poignant and darling amidst the clattering of clinking bottles and the shuffle of branded and bound parchments inside.

"Art thou a writer? A Poet?" offers he, as he sifts through little baggies and dallies with a short, confided safety of potions all brewed and corked. He brings out two: one glowing with bluish serenity, icy and divine, and one of that milky pink, borne of healing and ancient whispers for the health of inner tissue.

"Some of the most important information hast I gleaned is not fine," warns Roland, eyes lifting from his bag as thus to gentle the solemnity of his words. "And worrisome for the Tranquil of the Courtyard. 'Twere my Friends a'fore that 'yard that dost I gather with amongst the Underground. They didst mention thee; thou art truly infamous, and fantastic in thine own devotion, Anders."

[freedcmscall]

A soft sigh graces Anders' lips at Roland's searching. Truly, some people would never understand that all the work he does, he does for free, of free will, and as an expression of his own freedom. Requesting pay, whether that be of coin or of items otherwise, would be unjust. He never will force people not to donate, but Anders' wants and needs are so oft buried beneath all of the importance of his work that he can never want for it any longer.

"I do write. It…. it's not poetry, it's about the injustices done to mages. A manifesto, I've come to fondly call it." And a soft chuckle accompanies his voice with the explanation. "I'm on draft 'I've lost count', and I haven't a clue if it'll ever be fully complete. I still write it, knowing that." Bits and pieces have been disseminated by Anders already, encoded messages explaining how to free oneself and other mages from their bonds to the Underground, tales of the suffering mages suffer under Circles to the general populace. Anonymously shared and authored, most often, with Anders even employing a secondary style of writing when he is awake enough to do so.

"I…. yes," falters the Healer briefly, "I always fear to hear the worst. But - hearing of it means we can take action against it. In a way, knowing, however horrible it may be, is better than not knowing. Any knowledge of what goes on inside leads to our own abilities to better combat the heinous actions and crimes committed against mages for the mere crime of being born." He takes a steadying breath, ensuring he stays in control of himself, does not get too wrapped up in the torrent of emotions constantly swirling about inside.

[freedcmscall]

finally writing up the biography part of my about page and saying frick off bioware and canon, scared 12 year old anders didn't save anyone's life, i'm moving that event to later in his life :)

[freedcmscall]

“Just lean on me, I’ll help you walk.” from eritvita!

@eritvita

A stubborn shake of the head even as Anders stumbles over his own feet. He's fine, really. Templars have simply been better at watching him, or perhaps he got too comfortable, too confident. It was only a matter of time before his tattered robes were recognised as something only mages wear. It was only a matter of time before his 'walking stick' was too clearly recognised as a staff. They would leave him be soon enough, the good folks of Darktown would never let them get him. He would never let them get him.

"Really, it's nothing." A blatant lie. The healer tested out putting weight on his leg; it nearly buckled under the pressure. Dammit. He reached deep inside, practically floundering about for any sense of mana, but to no avail. Really, whoever it was who decided that templars deserved the ability to strip a mage of their access to magic was a true monster. The attempt to pull forth magic temporarily walled off from his access brought forth a new surge of nausea that he forced down. Best not to get sick in front of anyone, best not to worry Roland more than he clearly already worried.

"Well, nothing I've not dealt with before, actually," he laughs. Laughter is the best medicine, or something. Or humour is the best coping mechanism. "No one laid a hand on you, did they?" Even through his own suffering, Anders always has to put the well-being of others in front of his own pain. It was something in his nature, innate and independent of his practice as a Spirit Healer. Simply it is who he is.

[freedcmscall]

“I’ll be fine. I think. Maybe.”

@qlasscannon

"Don't be dramatic. You'll be fine if I have anything to say about it."

Anders pulled a face at Iggy, equal parts incredulous at his stubbornness and worried about how he was able to simply ignore what his body must surely have been screaming at him. Did that make Anders a bit of a hypocrite? Of course not, for he was a healer, thus it was his job to ensure everyone else was alright. So long as he could function well enough to ensure that, he didn't have to worry about any other aspect of himself, any injuries he ever found himself with could wait until everyone else was alright.

"You know, it would all go faster and be less painful if you'd just let me fix you," he grumbled, but there was no actual malice in his tone. If anything, his tone was playful, light, almost joking, despite the seriousness in his words. He sighed and called upon a wisp from the Fade and pulled healing energy together, again, trying to more gently take Iggy's hands in his own this time. Really, if the man would just use a staff for offensive magic, he wouldn't find himself in this situation. And yet, here they were. Again.

"You keep this up and I'm going to start thinking that you think death is the next great adventure to drag us all along for. Or that you secretly get off on pain localised entirely to your hands." He huffed and shook his head. "Now if you could just try not to yank your hand away when I'm working, that'd be great! I know, big request."

[lorandesore]

Anders by Lorandesore

[freedcmscall]

Archetypes Quiz

52% Caregiver Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend.

26% Rebel The Rebel is comfortable throwing caution to the wind — and bucking the system — if that means getting their point across.

22% Advocate The Advocate is the one everyone wants on their side. In the name of justice, they are not afraid to challenge authority or speak up for others.

stolen from: my other blog

tagging: anyone :3