#I do shift my writing a bit

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just finished reading Pez Dispenser Debris (I don’t even go there but I am fueled by Wiki articles and a love for your storytelling) and first of all—amazing!!! 10/10, I think I need to watch this series now. 

Second, I  noticed that (while very much distinct) Yuuta & Izuku have a lot of similarities in the voice you gave them—maybe it’s the constant panic attacks or perhaps both of  them placing blame for everything squarely on their own shoulders, but ough it makes for the perfect blend of gut-punching angst. I’d love to hear any ramblings you currently have about either of them. I am currently obsessed with both of them now and am placing the blame on you <3

I’m gonna pretty heavily discuss some spoilers for my hero academia in this. I figured that was okay since you’d already read my fanfic and the wiki so the cat is out of the metaphorical bag. That being said, maybe wait to read this answer if you want to not be spoiled for more details in my hero.

Yuuta and Izuku absolutely have the most similar voices out of all of my narrators and it is 90% because they are both completely insane and in violent need of a Xanax and a nice soothing cup of chamomile tea. God I love them both so much. They should each be heavily medicated.

My hero academia is a pretty great watch through the Shie Hassaikai arc. The concept is entertaining, the characters are GREAT, and the world building is really cool.

Then the story sort of. Went to shit.

I tried for a while after that, but eventually had to stop watching. My friends and I have a group chat named “horikoshi just call us” because we got so despondent at the writing decisions after that arc.

Horikoshi. If you’re out there. If you’re reading this. Just call us. We just want to help.

That being said, my love for the characters maintains its death grip on me. I simply adore them. They’re delights.

Yuuta and Izuku, on their face, have a lot of similarities as protagonists. The aforementioned insanity and need of Xanax, of course, but the skeleton of the stories has a lot of common touchstones and themes, like:

Both characters have some kind of history with suicidal ideation or tendencies. In the second scene of JJK0, it’s established that Yuuta canonically tried to kill himself. In the first episode of BNHA, Izuku is told to kill himself by his bullies, in an act which appears to be common to izuku’s life, and the only reason Izuku comes up with to not do it is “then you’d get in trouble for telling me to do it.”

Both characters have severe self worth issues. Yuuta’s looking for a reason to be alive at the start of JJK0. He’s looking for a right to be alive. In a way, Izuku is too at the start of BNHA. At the open of action, he is told by everyone in his life that he is useless. His nickname is “Deku,” which uses some of the same kanji as “Dekunobo,” meaning blockhead. The most direct translation were given is that this is a way of calling him useless. He’s the powerless member of a society choked with superpower, and he’s been told his entire life that he can do nothing, that his dreams are pointless, and that he’s a burden who would be better off dead.

They’re both saddled with power they can’t fully control. Yuuta with Rika, and Izuku with One for All, a transferable power that’s too strong to be contained in his body.

They both have a close relationship with an impossibly strong mentor that they are implied to be the successor of. Yuuta with Gojo, as he’s second only to Gojo in the modern age, and Izuku with All Might (aka Toshinori Yaga), who he is more literally taking on the mantle of One for All from.

They both are chugging that Loving Their Friends Juice and have tried to kill grown men with their bare hands as a result

That all being said, they could not be more different characters and honestly aren’t all that similar.

I have this sort of lasting grievance with literary analysis when people take a list of common plot points or events and use them to make the argument that characters are similar or parallel one another. Like, that’s all facial. The real question is how do they substantively handle those events. How do their story arcs treat those things? How does their character react to them?

Yuuta and Izuku’s actual substantive characters don’t really react to those events in the same way at all. The analysis could go on all day in this respect, really, but the biggest difference is how their respective story arcs treat the cornerstone of their original conflicts.

Yuuta opens action with Rika as the cornerstone of his conflict. She’s who he wants to free, she’s who he’s chained to, and it’s her protection of him that makes him think he deserves to die. Izuku’s cornerstone, meanwhile, is his own Quirklessness. He desperately wants to be a hero, and everyone in his life tells him he can’t be because he is Quirkless. He’s useless because he’s Quirkless. He should kill himself because he’s Quirkless. He’s a burden and always will be because he’s Quirkless.

And while Yuuta’s arc reconciles him with his cornerstone, Izuku’s forgoes it entirely.

The story just. Forgets. That he’s Quirkless. They stop talking about it. It never comes up again. It doesn’t make any real big impact on his character or decisions. It’s one of my biggest axes to grind with how the story developed, and it’s actually one of the biggest reasons why I wrote pez dispenser debris.

Pez dispenser debris was actually inspired by this one piece of my hero academia art where Izuku is hugging his younger self. I don’t know if it was official art or fan art, and I have no idea where it is or where to find it because by god have I tried so I can find it and link it for credit/to boost it. I saw it literally years ago, thought “oh that’s cool,” wrote the original first scene of the fic (where Midoriya stops the bus and is hit by the Quirk), wasn’t feeling it, got distracted by other projects, went to law school, graduated law school, signed up to take the bar exam, and was suddenly electrified in the last fucking month of studying with this fugue state of feverish artistic inspiration. I have never written so easily or so compulsively in my life. I’d write for eight unbroken hours and it would be fucking magic every time. It was like an addiction. I was writhing with a need to create and had so much fucking anxiety about the test I was not studying for instead. The words could not be restrained.

Anyway I taught myself three subjects on the plane ride to the state I was taking it in and passed anyway so it’s fine we’re fine

The moral of the story is that this story has been cooking long enough for me to get two more diplomas than I had when I started it and I have no idea where to find that fucking piece of art that inspired it, but if I find it, I’ll reblog it so y’all can see it too.

The thing is, the narrative sort of forcibly excluding Izuku’s past as Quirkless would make total sense to me if it was used as something Izuku himself was doing.

Izuku necessarily had to hide the truth of his former Quirkless status at the start of action—he needed to keep the secret of One for All. Like, he could not let people find out that a Quirk was transferrable, but you know, just the most powerful one, and also he had it, please come torture it out of him.

But as the narrative goes on, that rationale becomes less important. He has people he can trust with it. And yeah, eventually One for All becomes more known, but the discussion is all about him being all might’s successor. Him being Quirkless and how that affected him and still affects him isn’t really discussed or treated as important. And Izuku doesn’t act like it’s important to him either. He never really thinks about it.

And I just hated that. Like. He spent almost his entire life as a member of society who was spit on. He’s had a Quirk for less than a year. How are his experiences with Quirklessness not important to how he interacts with the world?

The other point of contention I had was Mirio.

Mirio is this superstar of a senpai who takes Izuku under his wing. He has an extremely powerful quirk that’s only as effective as it is because he put in the work and learned how to handle it. He’s a perfect, eternally smiling paragon of heroism. He’s flagged early as the one out of everyone, including heroes with established careers, who is most likely to replace All Might.

He’s also the one who was supposed to get One for All.

His mentor had found him and trained him to be All Might’s successor. Before All Might could meet him, however, he found this feral raccoon child in a sewer and said “oh my god I can’t not offer him incomprehensible power within the first three hours of meeting him” and tripped face first into fatherhood.

During a rescue mission, Mirio loses his Quirk in a way that’s borderline irreversible. There’s no known cure, and the only possible one is dependent on a little girl learning how to control an extremely volatile and dangerous quirk and using it in a way she never has before.

So surely, they’re going to commit to that writing decision, right? He’s Quirkless. We’re bringing back having Quirkless characters. It’s going to be this sick as hell juxtaposition between Izuku and Mirio. We are at least going to force Izuku to reflect on his own times as Quirkless or have some kind of discussion about how Mirio is treated differently now that he is Quirkless.

But no. He gets his Quirk back by the next season. We don’t talk about it much. It’s more of a minor inconvenience than anything.

It’s almost as if the show accepted as an actual rule that you couldn’t be a hero without a Quirk. And then just. Forgot. Everything it had to do with its literal protagonist.

Anyway, I hated it.

In contrast, I fucking loved how yuuta’s storyline with Rika ends. That scene where Yuuta’s turning back to Rika, thanking her for loving him, telling him they can die together? I’m obsessed with it. I recently moved across the country and listened to that theme song on loop during the drive.

Yuuta and Rika’s love was unhealthy. They hurt each other. But it wasn’t malicious.

They just didn’t know how to love each other in a way that didn’t hurt.

They were in shit circumstances. But the love was there.

Yuuta felt guilty for Rika’s love for him and his for her almost the entire narrative. He thought he cursed her with his love. He wanted to kill himself because of how she hurt people out of love for him. It’s why I have moments in sea glass gardens where Yuuta talks about begging Rika to stop loving him—he didn’t know why love had to hurt so goddamn bad, and he’s sorry for that, he really is. He wishes he was better at it than he was.

At the end of JJK0, Yuuta truly is the last person who remembers Rika as she was and still loves her for who she is. He’s faced with Geto, who wants to use her as a weapon. Everyone treats her as a threat or a tool, except for Yuuta.

Like. Just that moment. Of loving someone so genuinely, and being the last one who does, and knowing that everyone else will just use them. I’m obsessed with it.

Yuuta reconciles with his love for Rika and her love for him, and they’re both finally freed. It’s this perfect moment of acceptance that I adore. He comes to terms with his past. It doesn’t hurt him so much anymore.

I wrote pez dispenser debris to sort of force Izuku to have that kind of reconciliation. As it is, he hasn’t reconciled with his own Quirklessness and how that affected him. I wanted to give him something he couldn’t physically escape and had to face.

[imadhatt3r]

It's a late Friday evening in Midorijima, and that means that it's time for the weekly Benishigure meetup at the Black Needle. It's always a good opportunity to meet new members, get drunk, and have some fun with the other guys you'd usually miss due to conflicting schedules. Today's meeting is a bit more special- Aoba decided to join in, which he doesn't always do. He's the boss' boyfriend, but he's not officially a member himself- he has, however, gotten close to the gang in the time they've been together, so everyone just treats him like an honorary Benishigure, which both makes him happy, in a way, and annoys him to no end, given all the attention he recieves and the fact that he's a subject of never-ending jokes and bits (in a friendly way, of course).

Everyone's a bit drunk by now, laughing and toasting for anything that comes to their heads, no matter how small and insignificant. Koujaku is smoking a cigarette and sipping on his sake, taking it all in and quietly enjoying seeing the people he brought together. Aoba had a bit to drink too; He rarely does, but something tempted him to drink today- perhaps a desire to join in and fully enjoy the atmosphere was stronger than his usual convictions.

The conversation turns to relationships, as it always does at some point when a group of drunks congregates.

"Wait, how long have you two been together? Like, a year?" One of the Benishigures asks as he turns to Aoba and Koujaku. "That's pretty impressive, I gotta admit- it's probably the longest anyone stayed with Koujaku"

He barks a laugh, like he was suprised at how funny he found his own joke. Aoba looks at Koujaku with suspicion, but he only responds with a grin and a sly look in his eye- completely unmoving, cigarette still held in his teeth.

"You thought about tying the knot yet? I'm telling ya, if you managed to keep him around for a year, that means you gotta have something special going on."

"I doubt any shrine would be willing to do the ceremony for two guys." Aoba rolls his eyes. He's mostly trying to convince himself; Both he and Koujaku are respected in their local community, so he has no doubt that their potential union would be honored. He thinks that this whole "being in a relationship with a man" had sunken into his mind by now, but in moments like these, he really worries that he will never internalize it fully.

"Since when do you need a shrine?" The Benishigure snorts dismissively and waves his hand around with no grace at all; His eyes have a spark in them that already tells Aoba that he came up with something only a drunk could make up. "You're already with your friends and family, right...? And everyone's wasted on sake...? All we need now is for the lovebirds to smooch." He grins. "I can even be your official, if you want"

He raises his mug, beer and froth sloshing with his uncoordinated movements and begins to chant "KISS! KISS! KISS!", his yell echoing through the bar. All the other members at the table quickly abandon whatever they were talking about and join in, not knowing what they're cheering for, but knowing that it's paramount to see their leader and his boyfriend make out at the table this instant.

This unrest finally rouses Koujaku. He knows that Aoba doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, and especially not when he's being goaded into doing something by a bunch of rowdy, drunk dudes. He usually trusts his men to know when to cool it when it comes to teasing Aoba, but it seems like alcohol might've clouded their judgement.

He grabs his cigarette between his slender fingers and opens his mouth to speak. Before he manages to make a single sound, Aoba is pressing his lips against his, tasting the smoky flavor of the kiss. The room erupts in cheers, and the clinking of glasses and mugs raised in toast adds to his overwhelmed state.

In a way though, Koujaku is oddly gleeful about it all; He never expected to get married, or at least not like that- when he was younger, he'd probably imagine a serious, grim ceremony where he's forced to marry a girl he never saw before, one that was chosen by his father in order to strenghten their family's position in the criminal underword. Nowdays he has no family he could invite to such a ceremony, but the Benishigure are the closest thing he has, and he loves them like he would his own blood, so getting married while listening to their howls and cheers is probably how he'd like it to go anyway. As for Aoba... Being able to be around him in any capacity was a dream come true; Koujaku knew that he himself is never going anywhere anyway. But thinking about Aoba pledging his loyalty to him with such fervor, and in front of so many other people... He's just happy he's not a crying kind of drunk. Instead, he chooses to cup Aoba's head with his free hand, gently rustling the short, stiff hair right at his hairline.

On the next day, Aoba doesn't talk about the kiss, but when Koujaku tries to talk to him about it, he can see that Aoba remembers it all happening by the way he stammers, badly puts on a facade and downplays the whole event. Koujaku just laughs; He knows that Aoba needs to process it- he knows him well enough to know how he behaves after events like this, and Koujaku is, if nothing, a patient man. Besides, Aoba was always adorable when he was in that part of processing something, so he really doesn't mind.

Benishigure who are "in the know" sometimes call Aoba "bride" to mess with him, or ask Koujaku to say hi to his "wifey" from them. Mizuki finds out from them through rumors that the Black Needle hosted their very first wedding/reception when he happened to have a night off and he can't live that down. As for Aoba and Koujaku, they don't really consider themselves an officially married couple, but the bit is nicer to carry out than they thought- jokingly talking to eachother like an old married couple comes to them more naturally and is more fun than either has expected.

[moeblob]

having a stressful time at work but i think it's very important to point out the other day i was asking a guy for help and he's like aight gotcha and then we go to this freezer room and he, from somewhere beyond a mound of boxes, just goes "you like anime right?"

sir this is the FIRST TIME we have spoken how did you clock that.

(he claims i had the vibes of someone who liked it then i was like oh like the woman in the deli wearing a jujutsu- and before i can finish the series name he says "no not her, she just liked the shirt. she's never watched anime". . . oh. i see. you have already had this debate with her then. okay.)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

can someone please banish this writer's block for me 😫

it's the worst i've had in such a long time and i've tried to be patient with it but it's been fucking weeks now. i want to write so much but whenever i try they just feel like words on a page. every evening i sit down and rearrange them a little here and there and add some new ones, but they all just feel empty and and shit and my brain feels totally devoid of the creative spark i need to make everything come to life.

i know in large part it's my perfectionism getting in the way, but i don't know how to break through it. i don't know how to feel connected to my writing again. i don't know how to shift this fear of not being good enough that surges up every time i pick up a pen.

it's something that's always been there - but usually it at least comes in waves, or my love of what i'm creating is big enough to muffle it. right now, it's all i can hear. my inspiration has been totally drowned out by it. and i hate it so, so much. the fact that i can't access the one thing that brings me the kind of solace and joy and escapism i can't get anywhere else and is so vital to my soul. that i am blocking myself from engaging in the one thing that makes me feel like me.

i just feel so stuck and so lost and i miss being in that creative headspace so much it’s like a physical pain. it feels like part of me is missing, and it terrifies me that i don't know how to get it back.

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

aau rework version of the overload/boss fight where it actually has consequences and bearing on the character dynamics save me,, save me aau rework,,,,

[urproblematicfav-ao3]

wipwipwip

I love my babies so much. y'all remember the whole The Great Molasses Flood thing?? Yea that

Also funfact: the song Alastor's playing is Atonement from the Journey soundtrack(specifically at 4:40) Which is both my favorite part of the whole game, and also funny because no the fuck he isn't

[minhmynchi]

a delete later wip so im turning off reblogs but yay my turn for a scene redraw

[shinakazami1]

Just small info idk if anyone will notice but I'm taking a break from TSP :] I am so grateful to Tales from Borderlands as the game got me to once again make fanarts, read fanfics and want to create my own. First comes real life and I do hope to return as I have many unfinished projects to hopefully finish or ones to start but, we will see

[redgoldblue]

for the drabble spotify wrapped game, if you want: i rolled my rainbow d10 twice and we have a 75 🌈

❤️ 🌈

75: America's Sweetheart by Elle King

uh. I don't know where this came from. i apologise, my partner-in-fluff 🫡

Also I am obviously not abiding by the technical 100-word definition of drabble here, but instead the much looser 'short piece of writing'.

spotify wrapped drabbles!

Steve doesn't know when he stopped caring about killing people. It didn't bother him until he started caring again.

It's not anyone unusual, is the thing that gets him. It's a nameless, almost-faceless drug smuggler that he didn't even mean to kill, but he shot with intent to disable and a little too much carelessness in a rush to stop the ship they came in on, and when he finally loops back around there's a pool of blood and a corpse with a busted femoral artery.

He's kneeling down, checking a pulse even though it's clearly absent, removing weapons even though he'll clearly have no use for them, when his fingers brush against a thin edge in the inside pocket of the off-the-rack grey suit jacket the guy's wearing.

When he pulls it out, it's a photo. He has to look down to check that it's the same guy in it, partially because death rictus changes a face, especially when your comparison is smiling and happy, and partially because he just hasn't looked at his face properly. It's the same guy, his arm around a similarly smiling woman shoulder-height to him and so close in features she has to be his sister, with a chubby-cheeked frizzy-haired kid straddling his shoulders and holding onto the woman's hand.

One of the first things the military teaches you, explicitly or not, is to erase personhood. Your own, and your enemy's. Numbers, statistics, body parts and targets and usefulness.

He puts the photo back into the dead man's jacket and moves away. A tech comes at some point, body-bags him, and Duke is there and the rest of his team have it well in hand, so he goes back to where their cars are parked, boosts himself onto the hood of the truck, and waits.

Kono walks past at some point, but they're still in the midst of cleanup and HPD handover, so even though she does slow and ask, "You okay, boss?", when he replies in the affirmative she nods and keeps moving.

He remembers himself before. He remembers when it would never would have occurred to him not to think that every person with a bullet in them is a person with a family. A person with a life, at least before they were a person with a death.

He doesn't bother trying to count. The impulse washes over him, but it would take hours with military records and Five-0 reports to calculate anything even close to accuracy.

Himself before was decades ago, but also not that long ago. It was target practice at the Academy and work behind computers in Military Intelligence and crawling through mud with a similarly young Freddie by his side.

Himself after, apparently, is sitting on his own truck at the edge of his own city watching his family and his family's family and his friends and his friends' friends move efficiently through shipping containers and body bags.

Eventually, Danny finds him. He takes one look at Steve's face; he doesn't say anything, just leans against the hood next to Steve and waits.

Eventually, Steve finds the words. "I don't think the military would like me anymore, Danny."

It's not all that new a state of affairs; he got driven by revenge and tattoos in non-regulation places and too many personal attachments and he remembered how to have fun in quiet spaces and how to love in loud ones. He started caring again.

"Good," Danny says, harsh and definite, and Steve realises with a start that the things that would debase him in the eyes of his country are probably exactly the same reasons Danny - not just Danny, his whole family - would cite for loving him. Except the tattoos, maybe.

He can't bring himself to be upset about it in the face of that.

[kohakhearts]

its wip wednesday and i have nothing to share. just wanted to say ive written a non-zero amount of words this week, which hasn’t happened since mid-june at best. everyone say good job taylor (please)

[autumnoakes]

man... rhoam's "redemption" in aoc really sucked, huh?

like botw SHOWED us, several times, how much pressure rhoam put on zelda to unlock her powers, despite her telling him, several times, that it wasn't working. he got angry and banned her from doing not only something she saw as useful, but something that she was clearly very interested in and passionate about because she "wasn't dedicating enough time to her prayers." yes, his diary expresses regret for it, but at the end of the day, if zelda saw that it wouldn't mean much to her. the actions rhoam took, and the way zelda grew up under so much pressure that she nearly died as a child in one of the springs (this is in urbosa's diary, iirc) mean so much more than his regrets and his intentions. it took him nearly 10 years to realize that he fucked up, and by that point it was too late. the calamity had returned, and rhoam had lost any chance he had at making things right with zelda.

meanwhile, in aoc, all that's there is some half-hearted scene in the temple of time that's supposed to make everything better? yes, aoc had a very different and arguably better outcome than the calamity that led to botw, but the damage was still done by rhoam. it's still the same hurts and abuse and trauma that he put his daughter through all because of the prophesized calamity.

[spaghett-onaplate]

it's literally not a good idea in any way shape or form but I want to get a second job in fast food

[shattered-eluvian]

life could be a dream

Babies first solavellan mini fic thingy... I am very new to writing as a whole so I cannot attest to the quality ;w; but I think I at least have Solas' voice down pretty ok? I hope??

I am very very shy sharing my writing 😂 but I wish to be brave...

____

Evie Lavellan/Solas || set after the balcony scene because it always seemed so abrupt and sombre and then the next romance scene is Halamshiral where he's relaxed in the relationship and having a grand ol' time, and I felt there had to be some manner of heart to heart/getting over some hang ups for them in between to get there!

it's free real estate, baybee.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

His words carried a melancholic timbre as he turned to leave. Striding his way past through the balcony threshold and headed towards the stairs of Evie's quarters. This wasn't the first time he appeared to be unnerved by his feelings, with any glimpse of emotional vulnerability quickly buried under a mask of distant stoicism, and any glimmer of happiness chased away as quickly as it arrived. To Evie it was as frustrating as it was heart-breaking; he always seemed to carry the weight of far too much for any one man.

“Solas, wait.”

He paused at the top of the stairway, finding himself unable - or unwilling - to turn to face her. The gnawing dread of inevitability then began to creep through him. He knows this won't end well, and he will only have himself to blame when it happens. 

It was a losing game any way he played it, but he just can't seem to stop himself.

He was a man caught between living in a dream - to be seen, and loved as he is - and waking up and facing the cold unshakable reality of his duty. 

Would it truly be so terrible to dream, just a little while longer?

"Do you have somewhere you need to be in such a hurry, emma lath?" Evie said in as playful a tone as she could manage, in an attempt to mask her growing concern. 

He sighed, tense shoulders falling in defeat. He was a cornered animal, in a trap of his own making. 

"I- I'm sorry.” he sighs again, feeling himself uncharacteristically shrink in on himself, “I fear if I were to remain here, what little restraint I yet have would invariably falter. It–" he throws his hands up as he finally turns to face her, if only to further punctuate his statement. "It wouldn't be right.

"Restraint..?" she shot him a small puzzled look, "And what exactly are you holding back?"

He shook his head, unable to do anything but huff a small sad laugh. What indeed?

Evie moves to slowly close the distance between them, that growing concern now clearly etched upon her features as she met his gaze. He was always such a carefully guarded man, and she knew that seeing this side of him was a rare glimpse into his soul that very few - if anyone - got a chance to see. His loneliness. His guilt. His distrust. All bricks in this fortress he built around himself.

And it pained her.

"Would letting go… would it really be so terrible?" 

"You deserve better."

"And who are you to decide what I deserve?"  her tone is amused, if mildly incredulous, "What does that even mean, anyway?" she sighs as she takes another step closer toward him. "And why does it even matter? You are who I want to be with." 

"You truly have no idea what that means, vhenan."

"So tell me."

He looks at her - forlorn and defeated - he knows he should just walk away and end it now. But he won't. He knows full well he won't. He can't.

His expression shifts into something far more steely, his posture and demeanour returning to his typical, far more in command neutrality.  

However this was going to pan out he needed his composure. 

No cracks. No weakness.

"I've been hurt more times than I can count." he began, "So much betrayal, and people lost... I couldn't put that heavy burden on you."  He frowns as he paces where he stands. His hands firmly planted on his hips as he tries to keep his emotions in check. “You've shown me more kindness than I deserve. If you only knew what I have done? I'm not so sure you'd welcome me so freely… yet to lose you? That would break me. But to stay would be a far crueller fate."

Evie let his words wash over her like a sombre melody. He had - as he often had - said so much whilst saying so little. 

But it was enough. 

"Solas..." her voice barely above a whisper as she closes what little space remains between them, "Whatever it is you've done? Whatever you've been through? It’s in the past. I only know the man standing in front of me right now." She reaches a hand to touch him, placing it gently on his chest, "And what I see is no monster."

A crack. A weakness.

His composure briefly falters, the hand on his chest like a searing brand, the weight anchoring him in place. 

If only she knew.

Evie was the first to break this tense silence between them, she could see plainly that Solas was agitated, that she had opened up some old unseen wounds. And she had no desire to push him any further. 

“Solas. Ir abelas... I’m sorry.” She moved her hand to gently touch his cheek, the sensation snapping him out of his thoughts and back to her. “I didn’t mean to cause any upset. If you need time, if you need to leave…?” She takes a step back then, giving him space and a gentle smile.

He regards her for a moment, this small, mortal thing. A shadow of who she should be and yet filled with far more compassion than he had seen in millennia. It was all too real, and he found himself utterly powerless. Laid low by something as simple as unwavering kindness and a gentle heart.

It terrified him.

But he wanted more. 

“Thank you.” he finally spoke, his demeanour softening as he did so. “But that will not be necessary.” 

The anguish on his features seemed to melt away in an instant, replaced with a look nothing short of complete adoration. 

He chose to dream.

“Are you sure..?” she asked, somewhat bemused by his sudden change of tune. 

“In truth, there is very little I am sure about in this world, vhenan. But for you? I think I can make an exception.”

“Oh, well!” she laughed, “I’m honoured! I think?” 

Evie barely had time to appreciate the far more relaxed atmosphere that replaced the tension from earlier, her playful laughter cut short as Solas all but pounced on her, arms pulling her into a heady embrace that left her breathless. With one hand pressed at the small of her back, pulling her closer, and another gripped into her hair as he kissed her in ways that let her know his proclivity for tongue was not limited to the Fade. 

He was lost in the moment, enjoying being just Solas. The weight of his guilt and duty set aside even if only for the briefest of moments. Being seen – being loved – as just a man, and not some symbol greater than himself, for good or ill.

It delighted him.

The kiss soon broke just enough to give a very dazed Evie a chance to catch her breath. Solas pressed his forehead affectionately to hers, the tender gesture a contrast to the devilish look in his eyes as he all but admired his handiwork. 

“Fenhedis, Solas!” she huffed, “A little warning next time would be nice!”

There was a dark and mischievous quality to the chuckle she got in reply. He was far far too pleased with himself.

And all Evie could think at that moment was; Varric was right, it really is the quiet ones…

“And where would the fun in that be, vhenan?” 

The low, salacious quality his voice took on as he emphasised that otherwise rather innocuous endearment made Evie feel a little giddy. Seeing this side of him was certainly a rare treat, and one she would happily savour.

She could feel his eyes begin to bore into her, his body tensing like a coiled spring under her every touch.

Yet despite his obvious eagerness, he was waiting, patiently holding himself back until she, presumably, gave him some kind of sign that he could continue what he started. 

And she was more than happy to oblige. 

Twisting her fingers around the leather cord of the jawbone necklace he was never seen without, she gave it a coaxing tug as she took a step back toward the bed. 

He didn’t need telling twice.

________________

Sunlight gently filtered through the stained glass windows of Evie’s quarters, the colourful dappled light soon rousing her from sleep as it shimmered against her eyelids. With a sigh she wearily blinked her eyes against the light, wanting nothing more than to just roll over and go back to sleep.

Surely the Inquisition could go one day without her.

Wriggling herself under the blanket – just five more minutes – she patted the side of the bed where her lover should be, only to find it empty. 

She found she unfortunately wasn’t all that surprised by this outcome, but her heart still sank all the same. 

One step forward, two steps back.

“Ah! You’re awake. I took the liberty of getting the kitchen staff to bring us some breakfast.”

Evie jolted with a start at the unexpected voice, throwing the blanket away from her buried head to see Solas standing at the foot of the bed, half dressed with a platter of what looked to be griddle cakes and fresh fruit.

Bewildered, she shuffled herself to sit up, tucking the blanket around her naked form.

“Solas! I–” she hated how surprised she sounded, and likely how surprised she looked. “I thought–, I assumed you’d already left!”

There was a briefest flash of pain on his face. Her surprise at him still being here was far from unwarranted, his track record had sadly, hardly been admirable. 

It made him want to do better.

She deserved better. 

“Ah, but how could I leave, and miss out on seeing you like this.” his voice an impish lilt, smirking as he cocked his head, “Or for that matter, how would I be able to bring you breakfast?”

He moved to his side of the bed, crawling back beside her as he placed the platter of food on her lap. Evie watched him intently as he settled himself comfortably beside her, his arms soon snaking around her in an embrace as he placed a gentle kiss at her temple.

Still somewhat bewildered, it was all she could do to absentmindedly pluck a berry off the plate in front of her, popping it in her mouth as she was lost in thought. 

If there was one thing she could say about Solas, it was that he was hardly lacking in surprises. 

Settling into his embrace, she wrapped a free arm around him in turn, lightly dragging her nails over his scalp as she continued to idly pick away at the fruit platter.

The way in which Solas leaned into her touch made her smile. It was a bit like she was petting a needy cat - or perhaps a dog - although, she mused, maybe owing to their equally hairless nature, a nug would be more apt? 

She giggled at the thought.

“Is something amusing, vhenan?” he mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. 

“No.” she turned herself further into his embrace, “No. I’m just happy.”

Solas hummed with approval into her skin as he began to pepper kisses along her neck and jaw. There was an unhurried, almost sleepy quality to the way he grazed his lips over her. His hands lazily trailing down her body, oblivious, or perhaps simply uncaring to the fact he almost knocked the food off the bed. 

“Solas.” she huffed in mild amusement as she moved the plate away just in time, placing it carefully on the small bedside table, “I take it you have no need of breakfast, then?”

“My heart.” he drawled between kisses, his grip pulling her body flush with his in a manner that let her know he perhaps had altogether very different things on his mind, “I have all I need right here.”

[koicrimes]

so, it's been a headcanon of mine for a while now that nish is actually a really good artist. like, he wouldn't consider himself an 'artist' and he generally downplays any reactions he gets to his art. it's just like.. a thing he's done since he was able to manuever a marker in sunflower- drawin on the walls and pissin off kazama hahaha. but like, yeah, growing up it was just so casual, he never really thought much about it. he'd draw anything from kiryu, yumi, yuko and kazama to outfits he saw in display windows when he was out and about. he used to just throw away his sketchbooks and notepads when he filled them up until the others (sin kazama) got onto him, trying to make him see the value in his art. around the time he joined the yakuza, he slowed down a bit. really only drawing as a 'party trick' on a little napkin in bars and shit like that.

anyway, i say all that to say, in my ss stuff, it takes place in the "present" whatever that means to the thing i'm writing at the time. and obviously that means it's a 'nishiki lives' au, right? i often point out in that stuff that he has alot of nightmares from that period of his life. so, with the right motivation, i think he picks up drawing again as a form of therapy. he wouldn't see a shrink if you held a gun to his head but, this? it's actually something that works for him and helps him quite literally paint a picture of the things happening in his mind.

[waywardsalt]

probably going to rework my human bellum design again

[welcometogrouchland]

Also in the replies of the Steph concept art on twitter announcing she was gonna be in a new project at DC (posted by Travis Mercer), there were at least 3 comments saying "will Tim be there?" I don't care how hard you ship timsteph I'm exploding you with my eyeballs if you do that on my girls post again