#[ we can turn this into a thread if you want! ]

[felassan]

David Gaider on Cassandra (the last of these retrospective character threads), under a cut for length:

"This is the last of the (major) characters I wrote during my time on Dragon Age. I could go into others, and considered moving onto Stray Gods... but I feel like fewer would be interested, and I honestly can't keep up the pace. So let's make this the last, for now. So, yeah. Cassandra. We knew early on that Cassandra would come into DAI as a companion, along with Varric, that this was part of what DA2 set up for the sequel. Now, I'd written Cassandra's short scenes in DA2, yes, but I wasn't her writer for DAI. Initially, she was Jennifer Hepler's character. By mid-project, in fact, Cassandra was more or less fully written. Jennifer did a great job - solid character, solid quest. The sticking point, it turned out, was her romance. Now, to be fair, Jennifer told me straight up when we began that writing romance wasn't her forte, but she'd give it a go. The problem with the romance as she wrote it wasn't in its execution but more a clash between the character as Jennifer envisioned her and the requirements of her being a romance. See, I mentioned previously that a romance arc inherently limits the kinds of stories you can tell with a companion. Many responses I got can be summed up as "lol skill issue", but consider this: a companion romance isn't a fic you can just throw up on AO3. It's an investment of a lot of resources. If a companion has one, most of their resources need to be devoted to it - it's not "now let's ALSO add a romance"."

"That means it needs to take priority in who they are as a character and their arc. What's more, they need to be *appealing* to a big chunk of the player base - or at least someone we can imagine being broadly appealing, anyway. Thankfully, there are still many many stories this can accommodate. 😊 This, however, wasn't one of those. Was Cassandra a fascinating character? Absolutely. Her romance, though... Well, Jennifer DID warn me. She'd written Cassandra as a serious, self-righteous, pious woman who put the Inquisitor on a messianic pedestal. Romancing her meant changing her view of you. You did this by being... pushy. Jennifer didn't mean it to, I'm sure, but sometimes it came off as, at best, negging. At worst, a bit harassy. And Jennifer would have fixed it. This was a 1st draft, and the issues - while serious - were something a skilled writer like her could handle. No problem. Thing is, Jennifer left. You may not remember, but this was around the time a bunch of GamerGate dudes decided Jennifer was somehow responsible for ALL of BioWare's faults. Oh, the power she wielded! She, a writer, could even command the combat Bio made! The result was a LOT of ugly harassment. 😞 Is this why she left? You'd have to ask her, but it undoubtedly didn't help. The important thing is, she left - and there was nobody as senior nor as superhumanly fast as her to take over any unfinished work. This is where Patrick Weekes comes in: a solid, senior writer who could fill her shoes."

"It was great timing - not only did Cassandra need a writer, I'd slowly fallen more and more behind. It was clear by that point that I'd never be able to write Dorian AND Cole AND Solas as planned. They needed to pick up two. And I let them choose the ones who interested them, like all my writers. Patrick taking Solas was no surprise, and while I had Big Plans for Solas in the future I knew at least he'd be in good hands. I was reeeeaaaally hoping Patrick would then pick Cassandra... but they wanted Cole. My baby. Who I created in Asunder. I grumped, but Patrick clearly loved the character. They had ideas for Cole which... yeah yeah, sounded cool. Fiiine. 😅 Now I had to figure out what *I* was going to do with Cassandra. We couldn't move the romance to someone else, all the other female characters were well underway, and I didn't know the character well enough to fix her with tweaks. That meant a re-write. I didn't WANT to erase all that good work, but I needed to start from scratch. Yet how? A pious, self-righteous character was already a risk in terms of romantic appeal. There are only a small number of traits sorta considered universally unappealing but they're on that list. In this instance, Cassandra already being a known character helped. I came across a webcomic (by aimo, I think? AHH I wish I could find it now) that made a joke about Cassandra reading Varric's books. Off-hand, no basis for it, but funny. 😆 And I thought: YES. THAT'S IT. THAT'S WHAT I'M MISSING."

"I sat down and wrote the "fangirl" scene, just to test it out. Everyone loved it, and it served to change my image of who Cassandra was - a view of the inside, at the idealistic and awkward passion she felt, for so many things... AND the Maker. "Yes," I thought. "I could fall in love with this." Who knew Cassandra could be funny? Not anyone, coming out of DA2, yet here we were. It worked so well and her voice came so easily. Miranda Raison was game ofc, and amazing. Though Caroline did gripe that, if we ever met more Nevarrans THAT accent meant we'd have the Tali Problem all over again. 😅 Cassandra's romance is burned into my brain as the time when we THE most awkward conversation with the animators ever. See, that moment during the sex scene on the picnic blanket when she leans back and... there were suddenly these strategically-placed candles, juuuust covering the Sordid Bits. Thing is, they were so obviously placed just to do that. Plus, we'd already decided to do full nudity in DAI, hadn't we? WHY WERE THEY EVEN THERE? Turns out, the nudity thing was still pretty new to the team. They'd forgotten and put the candles there almost as a reflex. So prudish. So Canadian. 😂 I do find it kind of funny that, these days, what I mostly hear about Cassandra is from female fans upset at me because she wasn't a lesbian option. I mean, right? Who wouldn't want that? Technically not my decision, but I guess I WAS behind the companions having set preferences so... fair enough?"

"Some of them do take it to an entitled place, though, like Cassandra *should* have been a lesbian. Why? Because she looks like one, apparently, and that that's a bit of stereotyping which feels... odd? But it's not as if lesbian players are spoiled for choice left and right, so again: fair enough. It did lead to the best end credits VO perhaps ever, and overall I'm pretty happy with how Cassandra panned out. Things never end up like you expect, right? But such is game dev lyfe. 🥸🖖 Did you know Cassandra was THE most-romanced DAI character, by a good margin? Least, by a good margin? Dorian."

[source thread]

User: "Did you have any hand in her writing for Dawn of the Seeker?" David Gaider: "No, none. Nobody at BioWare had any hand in Dawn of the Seeker, outside of maybe Mike approving the script or direction? Only he could say for sure." [source]

User: "Was Miranda a specific casting choice by anyone on the team (similar to your picks for Merrill/Fenris/Solas), or was she simply a lucky find? I loved Miranda on the BBC series "Spooks", so I was very pleasantly surprised to learn she voiced one of my favourite DA characters" David Gaider: "I don’t remember how Miranda was cast. Auditioned, I expect, and she had a good “steely warrior voice” which is surprisingly uncommon among actresses. The accent she made up was all her, as well." [source]

User: "What's the Tali Problem?" David Gaider: "When Tali was the only Quarian, the actress doing a made-up accent was fine. Once there were others… do we get them all to mimic her? That’s a tall order!" [source]

User: "I'd say Solas is the most popular nowaday, but you need to be such a specific race/gender combo + most straight guys wouldn't go for him, i get hes not on top of the list, but I'd have expected Josephine over Cass." David Gaider: "You can’t go by how fans online talk about playing the game. There is almost zero correlation between the playstyles of the vocal hardcore and the masses." [source]

User: "I was a Dorianmancer. The cut content in Trespasser DLC was sad to read, it definitely felt short/abrupt for Dorianmancers. Anyway to share what was cut at all?" David Gaider: "I don’t know what was cut out of the conversation, as I never played it. I just heard about it after the fact." [source]

User: "Those end credits are truly incredible. Do you remember who wrote them? I'm guessing a combination of Mary Kirby & you?" David Gaider: "I wrote them, but I recall the entire team kind of took part in brainstorming the pieces of it." [source]

User: "I’m very curious- Do you know what direction you would have taken Cole and his story if you’d kept him?" David Gaider: "It's hypothetical at this point, but I suspect I would have been less willing to lose the serial killer aspect... or, at least, would have made that transition occur as part of his arc in DAI. Yet that's easy to say from this side of the divide. Who knows, really?" [source]

User: "With Cassandra you created one of the best characters in DA history." David Gaider: "Personally, my favorite response of hers is where she gets mocked for loving romance and she comes back with a retort about how it's a strength - how loving something and striving for the ideal takes courage. To me, that's central to her core." [source]

User: "inquiry: did you not write any of the Awakening characters?" David Gaider: "I wrote Anders, Justice, and Nathaniel in Awakening - but it was such a hurried project, my memories of it are pretty much a blur. "Yes, I worked on that" is almost all I can say about it, I'm afraid." [source]

[sturniolo04]

Panic Attack M.S.

Bf!Matt x Gf!Fem!Reader

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

You were never the anxious type. For as long a s you could remember you didn't have anxious bone in your body. You constantly carried yourself with pure joy, contentment, and happiness. So, when you started dating Matt, you couldn't always relate and understand the anxious and sometimes depressive highs and lows he would go through but being his girlfriend, you really tried to understand and help as best as you could through the lows especially when they got really low.

This brings you to now, you are currently sitting on the couch in your apartment next to Matt, studying for another medical exam you have to take to pass this class to get you one step to majoring and having a career as a pediatrician, it being your dream, since your mom is one and you always looked up to her. You let out what you thought was a normal deep breath.

"you okay"

matt asks simply glancing over to you.

"yeah why wouldnt I be"

you slightly giggle out as Matt shakes his head playfully.

"no reason"

he replys shrugging his shoulders fixating his attention back on his computer in front of him.

" i mean i am almost done with studying I am going to get through this exam I think"

you hesitantly squeal out not being fully aware of the toll the work was getting to you and your mental state just yet.

"okay thats good im glad you feel confident about it. Are you ready to take a break and go get lunch."

matt asks as you huff out and agreement as he stands up and extends his hand out to you to help you get off of the couch.

You two hopped into his car and headed to a Chickfila to get lunch.

"you want to go in or drive thru"

matt as you two were stopped at the red light before the left turn in the parking lot. You were fixates on scrolling through a series of exams and essays you had no idea were even on your plate to complete within the next couple of months before the fall semester is over.

"baby"

matt stated gaining your attention back to reality.

"huh oh yeah um drive thru actually"

you speak up trying to forget about what you saw on your phone and that you were beginning to freak out due to the fact you have yet to write the first sentence of.

"okay are you here with me"

matt chuckles out as he reaches over running his palm on your leg in the passenger seat as he pulls up to the ordering screen in the drive thru.

"yeah sorry i just didnt realize i had more essays to write otherwise I would have said we could go in but"

you simply state out as matt start rubbing you thigh comfortably, already sensing a little bit of overwhelm that was completely going unnotice by his very own girlfriend.

"yeah its okay i get that we will get our food and head back to your place and get them done okay"

he reassures as you sigh out again.

"plus we also still have dinner with Chris Nick and Madison Beer so and that's not until later so we will still go out to eat today"

he chuckles out as he places his hand to thread through your head as you hum out in contentment.

Time Skip

you guys had made it back to your apartment with lunch and you two were sitting at the table you neatly placed in the kitchen area. You were hyperfocused on starting the essays going into hyper focus completely forget the concept of time.

"baby its time to get ready dinner is at 7pm"

matt speaks up as he closes his computer and stands up from his seat head over to you placing his hands on your shoulders, lovingly.

" matt i have to finish these essays though can we-"

you whine out slowly looking up at him.

"can we reschedule or cancel tonight"

you question sheepishly as matt begins to chuckle.

"baby no we haven't been out of the house since early this afternoon and it 5:50pm, plus it will be fun"

he persuades and reasons with you. You agreed and headed up to your room to get dressed for dinner tonight *outfit reference* As you were getting ready you felt this constant strain on your chest which again was abnormal for your so you simply blow it off considering it was probably nothing.

"you ready"

att simply asks you as you finally made your way back downstairs, sensing that same feeling of overwhelm and anxiousness on you that he sensed earlier that day.

"ye-yeah just was feeling like some tightness in my chest but I am ready lets go"

you quickly reply out, grabbing your shoes so you can put them on in the car.

"are you sure that it was nothing"

matt asks you again showing his concern of you not acknowledging you being stressed over the essays and exams you have yet to finish and study for before the semester is over in 2 months.

"yeah i promise im okay"

you simply replied ad you and him walked out the door.

Time Skip

You and Matt connected with Nick Chris and Madison at the restaurant and everything was great. You guys were catching up on everything that was going on in life which kind of allowed you to forget all about your essay and exam you had yet to finish and study for for a little bit.

"so how has med school been"

Madison asks you, shifting the conversation.

"yeah its going for sure"

you huff out as the tightness slightly returning back in your chest at the very thought and mention of school. as if school couldn't get any better you get a notification on your phone that was saying that basically your professor is deciding to have grades finalized this upcoming month instead of the following month after the next month and its march 30th already.

You start feeling like the walls were closing in on you as if you were stuck in a box and couldn't find a way out. You begin to feel the tightness in your chest become more apparent making it hard to breathe to the point where you couldn't seem to get any air in or out of your body and lungs.

"hey you okay"

Chris ask from across the table noticing you place a hand on your chest as if to make sure your alive.

"hey let's go outside for a minute yeah"

matt calmly suggests knowing exactly whats happening and because he didn't want everyone in the restaurant to focus their attention towards you. You nodded you head barely giving him the approval for him to guide you outside in the parking lot.

"i-i matt"

you shakily strain out as you place a shaky on the brick wall of the exterior of the restaurant to help you sit on the floor.

"hey hey"

matt soothes walking over to you.

"tell me whats going on"

"i i cant breathe matt w-whats happening to me"

you exclaims uncontrollably sobbing, as matt kneels in front of you placing his forehead on your bring one of your hands to his chest to give you the awareness that you were still alive and that he was there with you.

"yes you can. Youre having a panic attack love its okay match my breathing"

He softly speaks as he begins inhaling and exhaling deeply, as you slowly follow along.

"there you go"

he whispers seeing your normal state of breathing return to normal, he moves from kneeling to sit next you.

"that was really scary thats never happened to me before"

you softly speak out as you lean your head on his shoulder.

"yeah i think school caught up to you didn't it"

he questions as you slightly sigh and nod you head not daring to speak on that topic currently.

"can we just go home i want to get some sleep"

you calmly ask, looking up at matt.

"of course lets go tell everyone bye then"

he replies helping you to stand up.

"hey are you okay"

nick asks you softly

"yeah"

you softly let out.

"i think we are going to head out she's not feeling the best so I am going to take her to get some rest"

matt chimes in as he brings you into his side rubbing your arm softly.

"aw okay we will see you guys soon its okay"

madison replies getting up and hugging the pair along with chris and nick following.

"feel better and we will see you at home I guess matt right"

chris states and asks.

"maybe i will text you if i end up staying at her place"

matt simply replies to his brother.

"fine by us"

nick chimes in as you two finally leave and get in the car.

You guys barely even made it out of the parking lot before you were already fast asleep in the passenger seat.

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @mintsturniolo @wh0resstuff@ @spicymuffins03 @ksturnz @stayingstromboli @emely9274

[witchtwig]

Costuming, Connections, and Constructing Meaning Agatha All Along Thoughts

This isn’t an essay. This is just rambling and plucking at the threads of thoughts I’ve had since the end of Agatha. Also apologies for the fact this is all over the place. I just really wanted to start sorting out some of the visual signifiers I was fixated on when looking at the Agatha All Along designs.

The costuming design, art, and choices made on Agatha All Along are phenomenal. And it is clear from just reading through Daniel Selon’s instagram how much thought and effort went into the work of making those looks stand out as strong as they did. In particular, I have been fascinated by two looks of Agatha’s—her witch’s look (first introduced in Wandavision) and her spirit’s look. In particular, I want to consider them through the lens of what they say about Agatha and potentially where she is going, but also, hypothetically, her relationship to the original Green Witch, Death, Rio Vidal. 

Agatha Harkness, Wandavision

As noted above, Agatha’s witch look was first seen in Wandavision. This is important in the context of Rio, because as a character she had not been introduced or even conceptualized yet. Despite that, I do think there are some interesting design choices on the costume that with the introduction of Rio, can be reanalyzed through that relationship (and to Nicholas, Agatha’s (and likely Rio’s) son). Specifically if we look at the neckline/chest design of the piece—there is a fascinating embroidery work. Tendrils of vines or roots mask off her chest, reminiscent of a scar. This is where her locket with Nicholas’s hair centrally sits (which, in episode 8, has fallen off and not worn during her battle with Rio). 

During episode 9, we see Agatha create a cairn over the burial of her son Nicholas. In this moment, she sings through tears that she “buried my own heart here with you, my child.” A central point of Agatha Harkness’ character throughout her journey in Agatha All Along, is that she is closed off to the point of using deceit to manipulate and obscure attempts to know or truly see her. And to turn back to the costume—this design work indicates the hidden nature of her heart. 

We can look too, beyond her witch’s costume, to her costuming within the fourth episode during the fire trial. Agatha’s heart is momentarily exposed, but she closes it off and hides it, specifically when her ex-lover, Rio, attempts to create a floor with her. It is interesting then to note that Rio has her heart on full display that entire conversation. 

Rio Vidal and Agatha Harkness, Agatha All Along episode 4

And to go further, we can also note that Rio’s costuming as Death in episode 8, quite literally exposes her obsidian heart. Where Agatha’s heart is hidden (scarred over, perhaps), Rio’s heart is on full display. Looking back at Rio’s episode 1 appearance near the end, she declares that her heart is black and beats for (you) Agatha.

Rio Vidal as Death, Agatha All Along episode 8

This is the fundamental crux of the struggle between these two characters in full display in the design choices of their costuming. Agatha’s heart is no longer on display or truly reachable (it has been buried, by Nicholas’ death, by Rio’s existence as death), versus Rio’s heart on constant display (open and yearning). To me, this is what makes the costuming and design choices of Agatha’s outfit as a spirit in episode 9 very interesting, because it suggests a shift, an evolution of her character (that may not have come into view fully yet, but can be explored moving forward).

Agatha Harkness, ghost costume behind the scenes

Agatha’s costume as a spirit has shifted from the closed, vine-covered design, to a more open space. Through death, through Death, accepting her lover, Agatha has found herself at a new point within her existence. One that allows light in, one where her closed off heart is no longer hidden under the weight, vines, and scarring of the loss of her son (and I would argue the trauma of her struggle to accept and feel comfortable in her love of Rio). 

The costuming change between her witch’s outfit and her ghost outfit also has a shift in the overall patterning of the upper portion of the design. As a spirit, the bodice now has an intricate line pattern, which could be argued to be reminiscent of Rio’s branching patterns.

Agatha and Rio's looks side by side

Daniel Selon noted on his Instagram the ghost design for Agatha that the costume’s letting in of light was her letting go of the weight of those she had taken the lives of over the years, I think too it more importantly could indicate the potential for her to begin to actually emotionally connect again with her heart no longer hidden. And if we look to the fact she both pointed out that she did not kiss Rio for Billy’s sake (further pushed by Jac Schaffer in an interview), and the fact she noted it was not Billy who released her from the hex (he merely loosened the lid), on top of her understanding that “sometimes… boys die”—this all could allow for her and Rio to reunite in the future on better footing. 

This of course hinges on the fact Agatha does begin to do some of the emotional work on herself that she has been avoiding, by helping Billy and giving herself the thing she felt she lost when she lost Nicholas. But the possibility for her to do that work is now there. She took a step in no longer denying her own emotions through her kiss with Rio, and has the possibility to work through her grief more fully through Billy. 

It should also be noted again that by and large, Agatha is not a very communicative person when it comes to her emotions. This is even more so true when acknowledging her feelings around Nicholas and Rio. She only calls Rio by her name once throughout the show, and not even to her face. She never divulges the truth of what happened to Nicholas to Billy, despite the youth seeking that knowledge. So, it is important then for her to wear visual markers of both on her, even where she will not voice their story—she is wrapped up in them all the same, still. 

It will be interesting to see where these characters go from here, because it is doubtful this is the last of any of them. And either way, symbolically, I think there is a lot of positive potential, tucked away into the costuming and design choices. Thanks for reading my weird little ramble!  

[cigsaftersuh]

૮ the chosen one ྀིა .ᐟ

the room felt suffocating in its silence, the kind that wasn’t peaceful but heavy and crushing. jaehyun hadn’t said a word since you both crawled into his bed, his back pressed against the headboard as he stared blankly ahead. his eyes were distant, but you could still see the raw pain lingering in them, the words from earlier still cutting into him like shards of glass.

you sat beside him, close but not close enough, your hands gripping the blanket in your lap as you tried to figure out how to break through the walls he was putting up. finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“jae…” your voice came out smaller than you intended, holding the emotion yours couldn’t. “please don’t shut me out.”

he didn’t look at you right away. his jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “what do you want me to say?” his voice was hoarse, barely audible. “that she’s right? that we’re a mistake?”

“don’t,” you said sharply, your own voice cracking as tears pricked your eyes. “stop punishing yourself for something that isn’t true. i chose you because you’re everything i’ve ever wanted. because i love you.”

he let out a bitter laugh, his hands gripping the fabric of his sweatpants like he was holding himself together by a thread. “how can i not? she said everything i’ve been afraid of since the day we got married. that i’m ruining your life. that i’m not enough for you. i love you too much to let you ruin yourself for me.”

“stop,” you said, your voice breaking as you reached for his hand, but he pulled away, his head shaking. “jae, look at me—”

“no,” he cut you off, his voice rising slightly, though it was laced with desperation rather than anger. “you don’t get it. i’ve heard people talk about us before, but this- this was different. it was her. someone from my own family. and the worst part is, i can’t even tell if she’s wrong.”

your heart shattered at his words, and tears spilled down your cheeks as you scooted closer, placing a trembling hand on his arm. “jaehyun, she is wrong. she doesn’t know what we’ve been through, how hard we’ve fought to be where we are.”

“but what if she’s right?” he whispered, his voice cracking as he finally turned to look at you, his eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. “what if you wake up one day and realize this was all a mistake? that you deserve more than me?”

his words broke something in you, and before you even realized what you were doing, you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “don’t you dare say that,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “don’t you dare think for a second that you’re not enough for me. i chose you, jaehyun. i chose you because i love you more than anything in this world.”

he froze for a moment, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but then his walls crumbled. his arms wrapped around you, clutching you like a lifeline as the tears he’d been holding back finally fell. his body shook against yours, and the sound of his quiet sobs broke your heart all over again.

“i’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your neck. “i’m sorry you had to hear her say those things. i’m sorry i can’t protect you from people like her. i’m sorry for—”

“stop apologizing,” you interrupted, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands. his cheeks were wet with tears, and his eyes were red and swollen, but to you, he was still the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. “none of this is your fault, jae. you’ve given me everything — your love, your trust, your heart. that’s all i’ve ever needed.”

he shook his head, his lips trembling as fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. “but what if that’s not enough? what if i can’t be the person you need me to be?”

“you already are,” you said fiercely, your thumbs brushing away his tears. “you’re my everything, jae. you always have been. i don’t care what anyone else says, because they don’t know you like i do. they don’t know how we are.”

he stared at you, his expression crumbling as more tears spilled over. “you’re too good for me,” he whispered, his voice so broken it made your chest ache.

“no,” you said softly, pressing your forehead against his. “we’re good for each other, jae. and i’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if i have to.”

he shook his head, his expression crumbling as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “i never have.”

your chest tightened, and you felt your own resolve breaking. without thinking, you scooted closer, reaching out to cup his face in your trembling hands. he stiffened at first, but you didn’t let go. “jaehyun, listen to me,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “you are not a mistake. this, us, we’re not a mistake. we’re young, we’re figuring it out, but that doesn’t mean we’re wrong for each other.”

he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite bring himself to. “but what if i can’t be enough for you? what if i can’t give you the life you deserve?”

“you already are enough,” you said, your voice cracking as you brushed a tear from his cheek with your thumb. “you’re enough for me in every way that matters. do you even realize how much i love you? how much i need you?”

his eyes opened, and the vulnerability you saw there made your heart shatter all over again. “but what if—”

“stop doubting yourself, doubting us. yes, it’s hard. yes, people will have opinions. but none of that changes how much i love you. how much i believe in you, in us.” you pleaded, your hands tightening on his face.

he pulled you into his arms so tightly it was almost suffocating. his body shook against yours, quiet sobs racking his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “i’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice broken and raw. “i’m so scared of losing you.”

you held him just as tightly, your own tears soaking into his shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him as best you could. “you’re not going to lose me,” you whispered fiercely. “not now, not ever. i’m here, jae. i’m always going to be here.”

he clung to you like a lifeline, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if letting go would make you disappear. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“you won’t ever have to find out,” you said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

the vulnerability in his eyes was almost unbearable, but when you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, he melted into you completely. his hands moved to cup your face, his touch tender yet desperate, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

when you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breathing was still uneven, but there was a newfound softness in his gaze. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“i love you more,” you said, a tearful smile tugging at your lips. “and i’m not going anywhere, jae. not ever.”

he pulled you into his arms again, holding you so tightly it was as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together. his tears had slowed, but the way his hands trembled as they ran soothingly up and down your back told you he wasn’t completely okay yet — and that was fine. you would stay here with him for as long as he needed.

as the minutes passed, the weight in the room began to lift, replaced by a quiet, fragile sense of peace. jaehyun pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “thank you.”

“for what?” you asked softly, your voice muffled against his chest.

“for choosing me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “for loving me. for staying.”

you tightened your arms around him, your heart swelling with a love so strong it threatened to overwhelm you. “always, jaehyun,” you whispered. “i’ll always choose you.”

and as you lay there together, tangled in each other’s arms, you knew that no matter what anyone said, no matter how hard things got, the love you shared would always be enough. because at the end of the day, you had each other—and that was everything.

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ㅡ my forever only.

with love,

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[o3o-lapd-o3o]

here is part 5! it's not a long as the others, but hopefully this will tide you over till the dinner scene!

(as i said in prev post that won't be posted till latest sunday/monday)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

there's a masterlist now!

*the next morning*

*in telemachus’ room*

telemachus: *having got up early due to his excitement for later tonight*

telemachus: *looking down at something on his table* i hope he likes this, i can’t believe i spotted it in the market!

athena: *from behind telemachus* who likes what?

athena: *trying to peer over telemachus to see what he’s looking at* what do you have there, little wolf?

telemachus: *jumps in shock, not expecting athena to be there*

telemachus: *quickly wraps something in a silk cloth*

telemachus: *turns to face her* athena!- oh this? it’s a gift!

athena: *owl-like wide eyes and head tilted* a gift? for who?

telemachus: *scratches the back of head with nervous laughter*

telemachus: w-well after you left yesterday, i decided to head to the palace library to look up some more information on the gods

telemachus: i know i said it was other people’s words… but i still wanted to know a little more about lord poseidon, before we met again.

athena: oh-

telemachus: -and! and then i headed down to the market, and i spotted something i thought… i thought he might like it.

telemachus: *looks down at his feet* i know he’s a powerful god and a gift seems like a silly idea… but he’s also fathers’ friend so i just thought-

athena: *smiling and putting her hand under telemachus’ chin to lift it up*

athena: telemachus, you don’t have to be nervous or explain it all to me

athena: my uncle may be very powerful, but i’m sure he’ll appreciate you getting him something.

athena: *internally to herself* and if he doesn’t, i’m positive one look from odysseus will change his mind

athena: *ruffles telemachus’ hair* so there! no need to worry!

telemachus: *smiles*

athena: *putting her hand down and looking back over telemachus’ shoulder*

athena: so, what did you get him?

telemachus: oh! here let me show you!

telemachus: *turns around and moves to the side so athena can come next to him*

telemachus: *moves the silk cloth*

telemachus: what do you think?

athena: *realises what it is* i think… i honestly think he’ll love it

telemachus: *looks at her and smiles again*

*telemachus wraps the item back in the silk cloth and both him athena leave his room*

telemachus: how come you’re here so early anyway?

telemachus: not that i mind! but dinner isn’t till this evening?

athena: what just because its family dinner tonight, i can’t have family breakfast?

telemachus: *laughs*

telemachus: i wonder if mother and father are up yet…

athena: if they’re not, please let me wake your father up

telemachus: um sure? how come though?

athena: *thinks back to when she did early morning training with odysseus*

athena: *remembers the horror on odysseus’ face every time she ‘woke’ him & dragged him out of bed*

athena: oh no reason really

*both head to odysseus’ and penelope’s room*

[etclouie]

Congrats on the 600 followers!

Can I request a mix of these two prompts -

“Give me a kiss before you go.” “I know this is all for show, but do we really have to be so bloody domestic.”

“that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile.”

for derek morgan from criminal minds x stoic! reader?

Thank you.

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 50) “Give me a kiss before you go.” “I know this is all for show, but do we really have to be so bloody domestic.” 27) “that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile.” — from 50 dialogue prompts and 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; stoic!reader, established relationship, just fluff really

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; i’d feel so safe with derek icl

— celebrate 600 with me?

Derek’s footsteps echoed in the hallway behind you, his bag slung over his shoulder as he had to put it in the trunk of his car. he paused at the front door, glancing over to you in the kitchen. your back was facing him while he set down his bag on the couch, slowly moving towards you and standing in the kitchen doorway. 

you were chopping food for dinner, attention focused on the food in front of you with the same intensity you applied to everything in your life. Derek loved that about you— how steady and calm you were in a world that often felt chaotic.

you didn’t turn to face him, but the corner of your mouth twitched upwards in acknowledgment to his presence. 

a sigh falling from your lips as you realised you didn’t have an ingredient you needed for dinner, turning to finally meet his gaze. 

your eyes meeting his and a silent acknowledgment that you needed to leave was shared. 

"give me a kiss before you go”

he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he moved closer to you. his eyes softening as he watched you, before he set his hands on your hips. 

one of your hands reached behind you for a dish towel to wipe your hands before setting the towel down, crossing your arms over your chest until he pulled your arms around his neck and then resting his hands on your hips again as you mumbled out to him. 

“i know this is all for show but do we really have to be so bloody domestic?”

Derek chuckled, his hands squeezing at your hips while pulling you closer against his chest. 

he slid his hands from your hips around your body to lay on your ass, just how they always ended up. 

“you’re no fun. i’m trying to make this whole ‘normal relationship’ thing work. you’re over here acting like I’m asking for a three-course meal”

his words held their usual teasing tone, yet there was something soft behind them. 

he knew you understood that he was joking, but he never wanted to push you. never wanted to make you uncomfortable with him. 

"well, you did ask for a kiss, so" 

you started, raising an eyebrow at him while leaning in closer to him. your face inches from his and your lips grazing against his, but not enough to count as a kiss. 

"i suppose i’ll grant you that, but only because i’m hoping you’ll give me a ride to the store?”

Derek closed the gap between you and cupped your face in his large hands. you didn’t pull away how you would normally, make him chase after your lips for the kiss— in fact, you let him press his lips to yours, soft and warm and like home for a few lingering moments until you pulled back. 

it wasn’t anything too passionate; the kiss was comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm.

you blinked up at him, eyes as unreadable as ever. yet the corners of his lips curled into a smile, one that always made you wonder how he’d managed to wriggle his way so far into your heart. 

he leaned in to kiss you again and you smiled against his lips, a genuine smile followed by a squeal as his hands soothed across your side and his fingers ticked against your sides. 

"that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile like that," 

he said quietly against your lips, his voice almost teasing but with a thread of sincerity running through it. his lips brushed against yours again before he continued. 

"you’re way too stoic for your own good."

that made you frown, almost feigning offence. moving one of your hands to poke lightly at his chest before you whispered back. 

"i smile plenty, just not for the cameras”

Derek shook his head, that affectionate look on his face again. the look you fell in love with all those months ago, the same look that made your heart beat faster and full of love for him. 

his lips met yours again, the kiss somewhat deeper this time as his hands continued to hold your face. gasping as he nipped at your bottom lip before he whispered out to you. 

“i’m serious, though. the way you look at me, even when you think i’m being ridiculous, it’s like i’m the only one who gets to see that side of you. it’s different."

you pulled back from him, hands running down his chest before crossing your arms over your chest with a soft sigh. 

you rarely showed your vulnerability, but with Derek it felt so easy to let go— to open up and let your true feelings out. 

he always had this way of disarming you and breaking through the armour of stoicism you’d spent years perfecting to shield yourself. 

with him you could be yourself. 

"maybe that’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like a puzzle”

you told, eyes flicking away from him until he hooked a finger under your chin and gently guided your gaze back to him. 

the weight of the love in his eyes made a warm feeling run through your body, your chest tightening in that familiar way again. 

he always knew exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know yourself.

“maybe” 

he murmured with a shrug, taking a step closer again until he was in your space. his lips pressing to yours making you smile again, his forehead against yours as he continued on. 

“but i’m good with puzzles, especially when it’s you”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you write Arcane characters and reader fight. Who is the one to apologize first.

A/n: This took a while. I think I liked writing this one. I hope you like it too !!

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

You’re pacing the apartment, arms crossed as Vi throws her jacket onto the couch, fresh bruises blooming across her knuckles.

"You promised, Vi," you say, voice trembling, though it’s unclear if it’s from anger or worry. "You said you’d stop throwing yourself into danger."

Vi exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "What do you want me to do? Sit back and let everyone fend for themselves?" Her tone is defensive, her walls already going up. "No, I want you to consider how I feel when you walk out that door like you’re invincible!" you shout, tears brimming. She flinches at your words but doesn’t respond, instead turning toward the door. "I need some air," she mutters, leaving before you can say another word.

Hours pass, and the apartment feels impossibly quiet without her. You’re curled on the couch when the door creaks open, Vi stepping in hesitantly. Her face softens when she sees you, guilt written all over her. "I shouldn’t have walked out," she starts, voice low. "And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. More than anything." She sits beside you, her hand brushing yours. "I’ll try to be better—safer—for you. Just… don’t give up on me."

Jinx

The argument starts with something small—a misunderstanding spiraling into chaos, as things with Jinx often do. You’re frustrated, arms crossed as you say, "You can’t just act like nothing matters. You keep running off, leaving me to pick up the pieces." Jinx’s eyes narrow, her voice defensive. "Oh, so now I’m the problem? Maybe if you stopped trying to control me, I wouldn’t have to." Her words cut deeper than you’d like to admit. You shake your head, hurt threading through your voice. "That’s not what I’m doing, Jinx. I just want you to let me in." She scoffs, brushing past you with a muttered, "Whatever." The slam of the door leaves the room eerily silent.

Later, you find her sitting on the floor of her workshop, surrounded by half-finished projects. She’s fidgeting with a small gadget, but her movements are jittery, unfocused. When she looks up, there’s a flicker of guilt in her wide eyes. "I’m not good at this, okay?" she says suddenly, her voice soft but frantic. "I mess things up. I don’t mean to, but I do." You step closer, kneeling in front of her. "You didn’t mess up, Jinx. I just—" She cuts you off, shoving a tiny, lopsided trinket into your hands. It’s a crude carving of you two, rough but undeniably heartfelt. "I made this. I was mad, but I kept thinking about how much I hate when we fight." Her gaze drops. "I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you away. You mean too much to me." You wrap your arms around her, and she clings to you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Her whispered, "Don’t hate me, okay?" is a quiet plea that you’ll never stop reassuring her about.

Caitlyn

The fight begins when Caitlyn forgets to show up for dinner, something you planned weeks ago. You’re sitting at the table, the candles burned low, food cold on the plates when the door finally opens. She looks exhausted, her uniform slightly disheveled.

"Caitlyn," you start, your tone sharper than you intended. "You didn’t even send a message." Her brow furrows. "It was work—there was an emergency. You know I can’t just drop everything." You stand, crossing your arms tightly. "I get that your work is important, but do you ever think about us? About me?" Her expression falters, but instead of conceding, she doubles down. "This isn’t fair. I’m doing everything I can to keep things safe—for all of us." The tension snaps, and you turn away, muttering, "Maybe you’re better off with someone who doesn’t need you to show up."

The silence that follows is deafening. Caitlyn doesn’t respond but leaves quietly, and for the rest of the evening, the apartment feels colder without her presence.

Hours later, the door creaks open again. You’re curled up on the couch, pretending not to notice her until she speaks softly. "I thought about what you said," she begins, sitting on the edge of the couch beside you. "And you’re right. I haven’t been showing you how much you mean to me." You glance at her, catching the guilt in her tired eyes. She reaches for your hand. "I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll do better. For us." Her sincerity melts away your hurt, and as you lean into her touch, she adds with a small smile, "And next time, I’ll at least bring dessert as an apology."

Ekko

The argument begins when Ekko overworks himself again, pushing past limits you’ve warned him about. He’s been up for hours, fixing up a broken clockwork mechanism, his hands trembling with exhaustion.

"You promised you’d take breaks," you say, stepping into the workshop, frustration clear in your voice. "You’re going to burn out, Ekko." He doesn’t look up, his jaw tightening. "I don’t have time to stop. The Undercity needs this, needs me." You cross your arms. "And what about me? Do I even matter in your world of never-ending responsibility?" His head snaps up at that, brows furrowed. "That’s not fair. You know I’m doing this for a reason." The hurt spills out before you can stop it. "Sometimes it feels like I’m just waiting on the sidelines for scraps of your time." You leave before he can respond, your heart heavy.

Hours later, you’re in bed, staring at the ceiling, when there’s a soft knock on your door. Ekko steps in hesitantly, holding a small gadget you’ve seen him working on before—a music box. "I made this for you," he says quietly, setting it down beside you. The melody that plays is soft and familiar, something that always calms you. His voice cracks as he speaks. "I messed up. You’re not on the sidelines—you’re the reason I keep going. I just… don’t know how to balance it all sometimes." You look at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through your lingering anger. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing yours. "I’ll do better. For you. I swear." The fight doesn’t disappear instantly, but as you lean into him, you know you’ll figure it out together.

Jayce

The fight begins when Jayce cancels plans at the last minute—again. This time, it was supposed to be a rare, quiet evening together, but his work at the Council dragged him away.

You stand in the kitchen, arms crossed, as he walks in late that night. He looks tired, but you’re too frustrated to care. "Did you even think to tell me you weren’t coming?" Jayce sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was swamped. Things ran over—what do you want me to say?" "I want you to say you actually care," you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. His expression shifts, hurt flickering across his face.

"That’s not fair," he counters, his tone defensive. "You know I care about you. But this work—it’s not something I can just walk away from." You shake your head, stepping back. "Sometimes it feels like your work is the only thing that matters to you." You leave him standing in the kitchen, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you.

When you wake the next morning, there’s a soft knock on the door. Jayce steps in, holding a small tray with coffee and your favorite breakfast. His sheepish smile doesn’t quite mask the regret in his eyes. "You’re right," he says, setting the tray down. "I’ve been letting work take over, and that’s not fair to you. To us." He hesitates before sitting beside you. "I hate fighting with you. Please let me make it up to you." You sigh, leaning into his warmth. "You have to actually try, Jayce." His arms wrap around you, his voice soft. "I will. You’re more important to me than anything else. I’ll show you that."

Viktor

The argument starts after you notice Viktor pushing himself too hard again. His lab is dimly lit, a cluttered mess of papers and prototypes, and he’s leaning heavily on his cane while adjusting a mechanism.

"Viktor, you need to rest," you say firmly, stepping into the room. "This isn’t sustainable." He glances at you briefly but doesn’t stop. "There’s too much at stake to rest," he replies, his tone clipped. "You know that." You cross your arms. "I also know what happens when you push yourself past your limits. You can’t keep doing this to yourself." Viktor stiffens, his frustration bubbling over. "And what would you have me do? Sit idle while everything crumbles around me?" The sharpness in his voice stings, and you take a step back. "I just want you to take care of yourself for once," you say quietly before turning and leaving the lab.

Later that evening, you hear a knock on your door. When you open it, Viktor is standing there, looking apologetic, a faint tremor in his hands. "You’re right," he says, his voice softer now. "I’ve been careless with myself, and that’s not fair to you. Or to us." He hesitates, as though searching for the right words. "I never want you to feel like I don’t hear you. I just… get lost sometimes." You step aside to let him in, and he takes your hand gently. "I’ll try to be better—for you. For both of us." His sincerity melts the tension, and as you sit together in the quiet, you know he means it.

Mel

The argument begins with Mel’s tendency to keep her emotions guarded, leaving you feeling shut out again. It happens during dinner, her silence heavy as she focuses on her work instead of you.

"Do you even care about this relationship?" you ask, the words escaping before you can stop them. Mel’s head lifts sharply, her calm demeanor cracking slightly. "What kind of question is that?" she replies, her tone cool but defensive. You press on, frustrated. "You never let me in, Mel. It’s like you’ve already decided you don’t need me." She sets her utensils down with precision, her voice clipped. "And you’ve decided to make this about you. I have responsibilities that extend beyond personal feelings." The words sting, and you shake your head. "Maybe I should stop trying if you’re not willing to meet me halfway." You leave the room before your voice can break.

The next morning, Mel finds you sitting by the window, your face turned toward the city. She approaches quietly, holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. Without a word, she sets it down beside you. Inside is a delicate bracelet, the design intricate and unmistakably hers. "You’re not wrong," she admits softly, sitting beside you. "I’ve built walls to protect myself, but they’ve shut you out. That wasn’t my intention." Her hand reaches for yours, her touch tentative. "I care for you more than I’m able to show sometimes. Please, don’t doubt that." You turn to her, the vulnerability in her expression easing the ache in your chest. "I don’t need grand gestures, Mel. I just need you." She nods, her voice firm but warm. "And you’ll have me—every piece, no matter how long it takes."

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[vir-tanadahl]

The Wolf's Redemption

Summary: Join Solas and Lavellan has they break free from the prison of regret and begin their work finding ways to soothe the anger of the Titans and the blight! Read on Ao3!

Chapter 5: The First Step Forward

The parchment trembled in Lavellan's hands as her eyes scanned Harding's elegant script. A smile bloomed on her face, relief washing over her.

"She's agreed to help us," Lavellan breathed, looking up at Solas. "Harding is back in Redcliffe helping with the recovery efforts. She said to meet her at the Gull and Lantern tavern."

Solas's violet eyes met hers, a storm of emotions swirling within their depths. His lips curved into a small, tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That is…fortuitous," he said, his voice carefully measured. Lavellan's brow furrowed, recognizing the tension in his voice that he tried to hide. "You don't seem pleased, vhenan. I thought this was what we wanted?" Her voice is laced with confusion.

Solas sighed, his shoulders tensing. "It is. I merely…” He hesitates for a moment, “I fear the judgment we may face. The consequences of my actions will not easily forgotten."

Lavellan reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. "We're in this together, Solas. Harding understands more than most. She'll hear us out." As she spoke, a glint of light caught her eye. Lavellan glanced down, her gaze falling on the prosthetic arm that had replaced the one she'd lost.

Rather, Solas took after the anchor was becoming increasing unstable, dangerous, and threatened her life. The Inquisition's symbol, etched into the metal, seemed to mock her with its familiarity. A surge of panic clenched her chest, sharp and unforgiving. "Fenedhis," she hissed under her breath, her thoughts spiraling. "The arm... it's too recognizable."

Solas leaned in, his gaze darkening as he studied the prosthetic with a pained intensity. Regret flickered behind his eyes, heavy and unspoken. Lavellan straightened, resolve hardening in her expression. "We need to fix this. Disguise it, alter it—replace it, if we must." Her mind raced, grasping at ideas that felt both impossible and necessary, each one more desperate than the last.

Solas gently hums in thought as he places his hand on her arm. "The Caretaker should be able to help," he assures her. Lavellan smiles and nods in agreement, saying, "I'll go speak with them now.”

Lavellan scurried away from Solas and out to the Caretaker's workshop. She hesitated before speaking, her voice catching in the stillness. "Caretaker," she said softly, her tone laced with urgency, "I need your help." Raising her prosthetic arm, the engraved symbol of the Inquisition caught the spectral light, gleaming like an accusation. The weight of its presence was suffocating. "This... it’s too recognizable," she continued, her voice steadying. "I need something that won’t give me away—something discreet."

The Caretaker turned, their form shifting slightly like a breeze stirring a still pond. Their voice, calm and layered with depth, resonated through the space. "A limb, forged in need. A symbol, etched in time. Both carry weight unseen." Their glowing eyes lingered on the prosthetic as if peering beyond its surface. "Change is required, dweller. The arm you bear draws eyes, and eyes bring peril. Yet, the metal holds purpose. A thread, unraveled, can be rewoven." They gestured slowly, their hand tracing invisible patterns in the air.

"Can you help?" Lavellan asked.

The Caretaker tilted their head, the light around them flickering like a fading memory. "Help. A small word for a vast need. The limb you seek must not merely replace but transform,” their voice drifted, calm and resonant, as if carried on unseen currents. They extended a hand, tracing a shimmering outline in the air, the gesture heavy with meaning. "Metal and magic. Memory and purpose. These threads must be woven anew. But the shape it takes will depend on what you offer in return." Their glowing gaze fixed on Lavellan, unblinking.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lavellan responds hestitantly as she hands the prosthetic to the Caretaker who is floating in their workshop.

The Caretaker took the prosthetic with a slow, deliberate motion, their fingers brushing the metal as though reading the story it carried. The air around them seemed to hum, the faint glow of their form intensifying as they turned the limb over in their hands. "Yes, dweller. But not as you mean it." They drifted to a central space in the workshop, where strands of light wove themselves into intricate patterns, forming a suspended, ethereal loom.

The prosthetic hovered between their hands, caught in the threads of light. "This limb speaks of loss. Of survival. The Inquisition’s mark is burned into its bones. Such weight cannot simply be removed. It must be remade." Their voice deepened, resonant with the gravity of the task. "Metal forged in purpose. Threads of need, unwound. Magic, woven with care. What was, now becomes what is needed." As they worked, the prosthetic shifted, reshaped by unseen forces.

Metal melted and reformed, flowing like water; light poured into its edges, binding it with power. The once-recognizable design faded, replaced by something elegant and otherworldly—a creation both functional and untraceable.

"A new arm for a new path. But remember, dweller—what you carry will always mark you." They turned, the newly forged prosthetic hovering before Lavellan, gleaming with subtle light. "Take it. Let it serve, but do not let it define. A journey is shaped not by what you bear, but by how you bear it."

"It will seem as flesh," the Caretaker intoned, their voice rippling with timeless resonance. "A mirror of what was taken, yet not bound by illusion alone."

Lavellan watched as the magical prosthetic seamlessly melded with her existing arm, indistinguishable from her real limb. "Thank you," she breathed, flexing her new fingers in wonder. As she turned to leave, the Caretaker’s voice drifted after her, soft yet resonant. "Strength is not in the seeming, dweller. It is forged in the becoming."

Lavellan nodded, the weight of those words settling in her chest as she made her way back to Solas. She found him pacing, his lean frame taut with tension, violet eyes clouded with worry. "Vhenan," she called softly, drawing his attention.

Solas turned, his gaze immediately drawn to her new arm. "Remarkable," he murmured, reaching out to touch it before pulling back, his hand trembling slightly. Lavellan noticed his unease, the way his shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible burden. "Solas, what troubles you?"

He exhaled a shaky breath, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Harding. The thought of standing before her... of facing the weight of what I have done…"

Lavellan's heart ached at the vulnerability in Solas's voice. She stepped closer, gently taking his trembling hand in hers.

"Vhenan," she said softly, her warm eyes meeting his troubled gaze. "I understand your hestitation, but facing our past is the only way to move forward."

Solas’s brow furrowed, tension shadowing his features. "How can I stand before her, knowing the pain I have caused... the destruction I have unleashed?"

Lavellan squeezed his hand, her voice filled with quiet determination. "Because you are not that person anymore. You have chosen a different path, one of redemption." She reached up, cupping his cheek with her newly crafted hand. Solas leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. "Remember," Lavellan continued, "Harding agreed to meet us. That alone shows she's willing to listen, to understand."

Solas opened his eyes, a flicker of hope battling the doubt within them. "And if she cannot forgive?"

"Then we face that together," Lavellan replied firmly. "But we must try. Our mission is too important to let fear hold us back."

A moment passed, tension palpable in the air. Then, almost imperceptibly, Solas nodded. "You are right," he said, his voice gaining strength. "I cannot change the past, but I can still shape what is to come. We will meet Harding."

Lavellan's face relaxed into a smile, feeling the comforting release of tension. While she was prepared to meet with Harding on her own, she understood that Solas needed to be there.

***

Lavellan's hands shook slightly as she prepared for their journey, wrapping her fingers around the lyrium dagger. Its surface was cool and pulsing with a soft blue light. She shared a significant look with Solas, who nodded in support.

"Ready, vhenan?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

With practiced precision, Lavellan traced the intricate pattern of the Vir'Revas in the air before them. The dagger left a shimmering trail of magic, forming an elaborate old elven sigil. As the final line connected, the air crackled with energy. Solas placed his hand on the small of her back. "Now, focus on unlocking the eluvian." He whispers. She did as she was told and the Vir’Revas unlocked allowing them access back into the Crossroads.

Lavellan's face lit up with a bright smile, her eyes shining with excitement as she looked up at Solas. She couldn't help but bounce slightly on her feet as the eluvian to unlock and come back to life.

Solas' chuckle filled the air, his own smile mirroring hers as he watched with pride as Lavellan successfully unlocked the Vir'Revas.

Lavellan waves the lyrium dagger, causing the blade to retract before handing it back to Solas. He steps through the eluvian first, with Lavellan following closely behind. They find themselves back at the Crossroads and Solas leads them to a boat where the Caregiver materializes to ferry them to their destination island.

Once on the island, Solas takes them to the necessary eluvian and effortlessly activates it with the dagger before they walk through once more. They were standing amidst crumbling pillars and statues overgrown with flora and fauna. They quietly make their way out of the ruins and begin making their way towards Redcliffe.

As they made their way through the untamed Hinterlands, Lavellan's thoughts were racing. "Do you think Harding will be able to provide us with contacts among the Grey Wardens?" she asked, brushing away a low-hanging branch. While Lavellan was confident that Harding would have connections, she couldn't help but feel anxious about it.

Solas's brow furrowed. "More than likely,” He responds, but then his voice drops low as to not draw more attention to himself. The closer they got to Redcliffe, the more Lavellan's stomach knotted with anticipation. Every snapping twig made her jump, every rustle of leaves had her scanning for potential threats.

"Something weighs on you," Solas observed, his own posture tense. Lavellan let out a nervous laugh. "Is it that obvious?” She murmured, “what if Harding can't offer us any help? What if she turns us away?" She had been trying to appear confident after Solas confided in her about his reservations regarding their upcoming encounter with Harding.

Solas's eyes softened. "Then we find another way," he responded. As they approached the outskirts of Redcliffe, Lavellan's heart began to race with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The once grand town had fallen on hard times.

Buildings lay in various states of disrepair, some still under construction, while others showed signs of blight damage on their walls and roofs. Lavellan took a deep breath to steady herself, reminding herself of their purpose for being there. With one final exchange of resolute glances, they continued towards the Gull and Lantern, feeling the weight of their mission and the thought of reuniting with Harding after years apart lingering in the air.

The heavy wooden door of the Gull and Lantern creaked open, admitting Lavellan and Solas into a cacophony of clinking tankards and raucous laughter. Lavellan's eyes darted beneath her hood, taking in the crowded tavern. Smoke from the hearth mingled with the scent of ale and sweat, creating a haze that clung to the rafters.

"This way," Lavellan murmured, guiding Solas towards a secluded corner table. Her heart raced beneath her cloak, every face a potential threat. As they settled onto rough-hewn benches, she leaned close to Solas. "Do you see her?" she asked. Solas's lips barely moved as he replied, "Not yet. But we should take care not to draw attention." A barmaid approached, her apron stained with spilled ale. "What'll it be, then?"

Lavellan forced a smile. "Two ales, please." As the woman bustled away, Lavellan knew neither of them would drink the ale. The tavern door swung open again, and Lavellan's breath caught. There, silhouetted against the fading daylight, stood Lace Harding.

The dwarf's keen eyes scanned the room, a tentative smile playing on her lips. Lavellan's fingers twitched, longing to wave, but caution stayed her hand. Instead, she watched as recognition dawned on Harding's face. The scout made her way through the crowd with practiced ease.

"It's good to see you," Harding said warmly as she reached their table, her gaze fixed on Lavellan. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Both of you."

Lavellan felt Solas stiffen beside her. "Harding," he acknowledged, his voice carefully neutral.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Lavellan admitted, gesturing for Harding to sit. As Harding settled across from them, her smile faltered slightly. "Truthfully, I wasn't sure I would either. But…well, old loyalties die hard."

Lavellan's heart swelled with gratitude, even as she noted the way Harding's eyes kept flicking warily to Solas. 'This might be more complicated than I thought,' she realized, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. Harding took a seat. “I must say, I was surprised to receive a letter addressed from you, Inquisitor,” she says in a lower voice before adding, “It’s been two years.”

“I’ve told you to call me by my name,” Lavellan smiles. “It’s good to see you again, Lace,” Lavellan tells her, her voice warm. “How is your mother? How have the recovery efforts been?” she inquires.

“Oh habits, I guess!” Harding says with a laugh, her face brightens with a warm smile. "Ma’s doing well! She was pretty happy to have me home." She chuckles softly, but her tone shifts as she adds, "The rebuilding’s been tough…but we’re getting there."

Harding hesitates before asking, "And...how have things been between you two?" She looks back and forth between Lavellan and Solas. Lavellan hums thoughtfully and turns to look at Solas. "We've been doing well," she responds softly. "We recently returned…," she adds vaguely, not wanting to mention out loud that they had just come back from the Fade in the tavern.

“Oh?” Harding tilts her head, catching on to what Lavellan meant. “Really?” She pauses, leaning in with a curious glint in her eye and lowering her voice. “Alright, spill it. Your letter didn’t exactly give much away.”

Lavellan exchanged a quick glance with Solas, carefully weighing her words. "As you know, we are…he is…," she voice trailed off but her tone measured, her hands gesturing as a way to complete the sentence. Harding nods, her face solemn. "I remember," she says. "To soothe the situation, you know—hold on…" Suddenly, she stands up and makes her way back to the barmaid, exchanging a few quietly before the barmaid hands her a key.

Returning to the group, Harding motions for them to follow her to a private room in the tavern where they can speak freely. As they enter the room and close the door behind them, Harding sighs with a smile.

“That’s better. Now we can talk freely,” Harding said warmly as she makes her way to sit on the strongbox in the room. “What were you saying?” Harding encourages them to continue. Lavellan nodded. “We are—he is…” her words are getting jumbled for a moment, “We need your help,” Lavellan finally landed on.

Harding nodded, casting a wary gaze to Solas. “Okay,” Harding hummed out. Solas shifted beside Lavellan, his discomfort palpable. Lavellan goes to press on, but Harding stops her. “Why don’t we let Solas tell me,” she suggested her request gently. Lavellan nods silently before turn her gaze to Solas. She can see his guard is up.

Solas sits quietly for a moment, as he carefully thought of what he was going to say. “Harding…” he begins, “I am sorry.”

“For what, Solas?” Harding demanded, her tone sharp, cutting through the charged air. Her voice carried an edge, a mix of anger and disbelief. “Betraying the Inquisitor and breaking her heart? Trying to tear down the Veil? Killing Varric?” She pressed forward, her words hitting like daggers. “Using blood magic to twist Rook’s mind and then betraying her?” Her frustration flared, her voice rising with each accusation. “Or maybe you’re sorry for destroying the Titans’ spirits, stripping our dreams from us, and creating the darkspawn?”

Solas didn’t flinch under her assault, though his shoulders stiffened under the weight of her words. When he finally spoke, his response was simple, unadorned, and brutally honest. “Yes, I am.”

The starkness of his admission was almost absurd, an answer so brief it bordered on comical, yet the sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. He didn’t elaborate—perhaps because he couldn’t, or perhaps because no words could truly atone for what he had done.

Harding’s glare hardened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Then why are you here?” she spat, her voice harsh and unyielding, the betrayal she felt etched into every syllable.

Before the tension could spiral further, Lavellan cleared her throat, the quiet sound drawing their attention. “Lace,” she began, her voice soft but steady, a stark contrast to the volatile emotions in the room. She met Harding’s furious gaze with a calm, measured expression. “I cannot excuse the harm he’s caused,” she said gently, her words careful and deliberate, “but may I explain what we’ve been working toward these past two years?”

Harding turned her attention to Lavellan, her expression softening as she nodded for her to continue.

"We were trapped in the Fade for those two years while Solas confronted his…" Lavellan paused, searching for the right words, "his many regrets from his lifetime. But that was just the beginning of the journey he promised to embark on, which is why we are here now."

Harding seemed to relax a little bit more. “You know, Inquisitor,” Harding hummed, “You always had a way with speaking to people, to get them to calm and listen.” Harding turns her attention back to Solas, still weary of him, but more open to what he has to say. Lavellan smiled, turn to look at Solas. Solas nodded silently. “Lavellan shared that you bonded with a Titan’s shade and soothed its pain and anger through compassion.”

“Yes,” Harding nodded. "It was unlike anything I've ever experienced," Harding continued, her eyes distant with memory. "The Titan... it communicated with me. Not with words, but with feelings, images. And then, the most amazing thing happened."

“I remember everything that the Evanuris did to the Titans…” Harding said sadly as she begins to recite from memory from her moment with the Titan. “You took everything from us, and you thought you won. But we’re still here. We’re different, but we’re not gone. We will thrive—in spite of you.”

Solas bowed his head in acknowledgement of the pain. Lavellan stepped closer to him, gently touching his back to provide support and comfort.

“I remember your letter also saying you ran into uncorrupted red lyrium and after you left, that lyrium went back to normal?” She asked Harding.

Harding nodded solemnly, her voice heavy with emotion as she responded, “Yes, it did,” She answers. “I think the disembodied rage of the Titans had nowhere else to go, so it took root in the heart. And the red lyrium extended from there, her pain infecting what as left of the Titan’s body. When I accepted that rate into myself, it cleansed it from the mountain.”

Lavellan's breath caught. "How is that possible?"

Harding shook her head, wonder evident in her expression. "I'm not entirely sure. But I felt it. The Titan's pain, its determination to heal. It was like…like the land itself was fighting back against the anger…like it wanted to be heard."

Lavellan and Solas exchange glanced. “Why? What are you trying to do?” Harding asked.

“Well,” Lavellan sighed, “Right now, we’re just trying to gather information—figure out what we can actually do,” she said, glancing over at Harding. “We were also wondering if you might have any contacts with the Grey Wardens who’d be willing to talk about the Blight?”

“Oh! You know, I’ve got just the contact you need for the Grey Wardens!” Harding said with a bright smile. “They’ve been digging into the Blight ever since the fall of the Elven Gods.” She leaned in slightly, her excitement shifting to a more thoughtful tone.

Solas spoke once more, his tone measured. “Will you help us, then?”

Harding crossed her arms, her gaze steady but cautious. "You’re asking me to help you," she said, her tone measured, almost skeptical.

Then, after a moment, a faint smile tugs at her lips. "You know, Varric always said there was hope for you—right up until the very end. I’d like to think he wasn’t wrong." She paused, her voice softening. "So… yeah, I’ll help." Harding's freckled face scrunched in thought, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. "The are two Wardens are Evka and Antoine. They've been deep into Blight research."

Lavellan's heart quickened. "Where can we find them?"

"Last I heard, they were operating out of an old Warden outpost in the Anderfels," Harding replied. "But, I will send them letters."

Lavellan glanced at Solas, noting the subtle nod of agreement. She looked back to Harding. "There's someone else who might be able to help us. Dagna. Her expertise with lyrium and magical artifacts could be invaluable, especially when it comes to understanding the corrupted lyrium."

Harding's eyes lit up with recognition. "Dagna! Of course! That brilliant little nugget could probably turn rocks into gold if she put her mind to it." She chuckled, then grew more serious. "You're right, her knowledge would be perfect for this. Last I knew, she was working on some hush-hush project for the University of Orlais, but I can certainly help track her down."

"Thank you, Lace," Lavellan said warmly. "Your help means more than you know."

Harding gives a small, genuine smile. "Aw, come on, don’t get all mushy on me," she says with a playful tone. Then, with a hint of sincerity, she adds, "But… thanks. It’s nice to know it makes a difference."

Harding studied him for a moment, her expression cautious but not unkind. "You asking for help? That’s… new," she said with a small, wry smile. Then her tone softens, a glimmer of hope in her voice. "But it’s a good step, I’ll give you that. Let’s just make sure it’s worth it, yeah?"

Solas inclined his head slightly, a flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze, and a small faint smile on his face. "A fair observation,” Solas paused for a moment, “It is new, yes. But if I am to make amends, I must start by asking for help, even from those I have wronged. Thank you for giving me that chance..."

Lavellan reached across the table, grasping Harding's hand in a gesture of sincere gratitude. "Truly, Harding, we couldn't have hoped for a better ally."

Harding's eyes softened at Lavellan's touch, a mix of emotions flickering across her freckled face. "Well," she said, her voice thick with feeling, "I suppose some bonds can't be broken, even after all this time." She squeezed Lavellan's hand before releasing it.

[userautumn]

Tommy stares down at his phone. If he were a better man he would delete the message and pretend he didn't see it, for both their sakes.

No. That's not right.

If he were a better man, a message like this wouldn't even be necessary. They would be spending the holiday together like they planned, curled up on the sofa like two parentheses watching movies before heading over to the Grant-Nashes for dinner. It's the kind of perfect world fantasy that always used to give him hope when he was a child, lonely and bruised and high off a concoction of drugs he almost hoped would kill him. But he's older now, and that fantasy is still just a fantasy.

He starts to type:

Thank you for teaching me what it felt like to be loved. I'm sorry I wasn't enough.

I miss you and I'm sorry.

Happy Thanksgiving.

He deletes them all and turns his phone off for a handful of seconds before impulsively turning it back on again. He brings up his and Buck's text thread and, before he can think better of it, texts back:

❤️

He doesn't know what it means. Doesn't even know what he wants it to mean, but the thought of not sending anything in response makes him sicker than thought of just sending a stupid fucking emoji.

He waits for a response, nauseous like he was the day after their first failed date, and then decides he's being kind of a teenager about the whole thing. But before he can turn his phone off again, it vibrates in his hand. He hesitates before unlocking his screen, unsure if he even wants to read the message. Is he playing with Buck's feelings by sending him a heart? Is he playing with his own feelings? Buck was just trying to be nice, he might have already moved on (and doesn't that make him dizzy to contemplate), and here Tommy is sending him hearts out of the fucking blue —

He opens the message... and laughs.

🦃❤️🦃😭 🍽️👎🏻

(Translation: What if I was a turkey and you were a turkey and we were two turkeys who were sad and miserable on Thanksgiving)

Tommy's throat tightens as he presses dial on Buck's number, laughter warring with grief warring with fondness. Evan answers on the first ring.

Tommy clears his throat. "You know what I think?"

"Tell me."

"I think..." He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what he's only just discovered he's going to say. "I think we should call a truce. One day only. You, me, a couple movies, and definitely not talking about our complicated turkey feelings. How does that sound?"

Buck hums. "Sounds good, one on condition."

Tommy freezes. He waits for the rejection and hopes the fear doesn't come across in his voice. "What's that?"

"You help me eat the embarrassing amount of desserts I've made while trying not to call you."

"How many?"

"Including the ones I've given away? About thirty-ish."

There's a lot to unpack there, way too much for one impulsive conversation. Tommy nods even though Buck can't see him.

"Well, hey, you throw in a carrot cake and you have a deal."

"Tommy," Buck says seriously. "I have three carrot cakes."

Tommy grins, despite himself. Warning bells go off in his brain and he ignores every single one of them. "Careful, Buckley, or this truce might end up being more than one night."

"Might not be the worst thing."

Tommy swallows. His grin slides off his face as he looks around his empty home. It looks lifeless and hollow, a cold mausoleum where all his hopes went to die. For the first time since the breakup, he allows himself to remember what his home looked like, what it felt like when it was filled with his boyfriend, when it was filled with love. How safe and warm it was, and how it could feel again.

"No," Tommy says softly, and he swears even across the distance of the phone, he can feel some of that warmth even now. "Might not be the worst thing."

living in a world where buck decides holidays don’t count and texts tommy a sweet and earnest, “even though i wish we had more, i’m thankful for the time we did get together. happy thanksgiving tommy.”

[homoeroticgrappling]

He ain't slick, I saw what it said before he edited it

I will now be overthinking about this until Saturday

[98chao]

truly i love all of you and i'm so grateful for all the support i get on my vanilla milkshake posts here because i've just seen the way people talk about vanilla milkshake and mysticao on twitter and its genuinely taken 50 years off my life. now i've been reminded as to why i should never join the crk fandom on twitter

[pocketramblr]

I always found it slightly awkward how media makes siblings or people who see each other as siblings call each other brother/sister all the time as in real life you almost never see people do that with their own siblings (maybe someone out there like that)

In the case of Arkham Shadows I see why they did though because Bruce quite literally tells Harvey he loves him and Harvey says it back. Can't have the audience think Batman is in love with the DA.

They had Bruce pay for his college, pay for his campaign, pay for his surgery, pay for his therapy and had Harvey have him as his best man at his wedding. Wow..... Sugar baby Harvey is real.....

The calling sibling title thing is less common in English than in some other languages for sure- me and a couple of my siblings do it on occasion, but it's for a bit then. More common is when I call one of my close family friends "my sister" or "my nephew" when talking about them to someone else because it's faster and easier to say that than to say "my friend who I've known since she was born and lived with for a few years and consider a little sister" or "child of a close family friend who considers me an aunt" to someone who doesn't know them. Which is a lot of words to say that if they wanted to fully sell me on the brothers thing they should have either had a different bit or should have referred to the other as "my brother" when talking to an unrelated character instead.

But "oh no we have to make Bruce not look gay" has been a problem DC has struggled with more than once for many decades and it basically never works so I guess at least they didn't try to solve it this time by having Bruce pick a lady love over Harvey or cutting the holding hands thing

Because I saw that scrapbook! I know Harvey has been Bruce's sugar baby since he was ten years old! But we can't have Bruce take Harvey's hand and call him the love of his life because ok technically that's Gotham but also because gay. And we can't have Bruce take Harvey's hand and call him his best friend because they're not ten anymore and somehow that seems gay also. So brothers it is, I guess. Even if I think my brothers would bite my finger if I ever tried to pay for everything for them on that scale, guess it's different at billionaire levels

[akkivee]

can’t believe they just highlighted ichiro and kuukou’s hand size difference and matching rings set up in one swoop like that lmao

[savingthrcw]

honestly my happy ending for Lucy (said as someone who only finished fallout 3 and her lone wanderer died) is that they get to reclaim their 3 vaults and use their resources while leaving the doors open, and she keeps going on quests until she retires and has a bunch of animals, the marriage she wanted, and friends who keep visiting her, after they truly started unraveling what is left of Vault Tec, and you can pry that from my cold dead hands

[mountainofhistory]

Referencing gensokyohyakkiyako's ask

In truth, Keine's not one to enjoy a battle. But she also feels that she has to be ready for it. And she suspects, though she has no way of confirming, that Mokou's been going easy on her in her sparring matches. Which has led her to this solution. Bold, absolutely. Impractical? Maybe. But Kaguya doesn't seem to mind it.

"Don't give me a reason to complain, Princess, and I won't," Keine agrees to the otherwise unspoken contract. The punch registers a second later, Keine bracing but still feeling the impact much, much more than she expects, knocking her back a step or two. She doesn't seem particularly discouraged by it, though. "I had a feeling you'd be good at this... it's actually not my own specialty. I'm better with a naginata. But I don't always have a naginata." The implication is obvious. She wants - needs a backup option.

Keeping her fists close to her chest, she darts in forward, aiming for any vulnerable-looking spot on Kaguya's body she can reach. It's just sparring, but with Eirin so close, there's no need to hold back. And with her youkai stamina and Kaguya's Lunarian capabilities, it'll probably be a while before either of them goes down.

[mitamicah]

And so I have finished all four of the gig stickers for the upcoming Käärijä europe tour :3 The plan now is to order them as soon as I am done eating :3

Any preferences whether you'd like to see the designs now or closer to the gig dates :3? I mean, the Polish dates are first in december after all x'D