#I know one of their big themes for the game is regret so is she confronting the mistakes of her past?

[resol-nare]

Okay I need to acknowledge this part of the trailer before my head explodes. I'm pretty sure that this is a glimpse of part of Neve's personal quest? She's not in her casual outfit, obviously, and her hair is fixed like it is out in the field BUT her fascinator is missing. Maybe because it fell off? Whatever is happening in this scene, I feel like it's specific and personal to her.

[sleepingfancies]

The thing about Octavia is she's always waging psychological warfare with herself so if there's blame to take she jumps on it like a grenade even if the situation was unavoidable even if it wasn't her fault at all. She won't admit to anything she feels out loud but she will fall on a thousand swords on purpose

[xnova239x]

Thoughts on the final few Emmrich romance scenes below. T’is quite long, sorry.

Now, I am not one that likes the idea of going to bed angry or upset with your partner. But, in terms of this game, and the events within it, particularly at this section? I understand why.

This game is themed on Regret.

If you take Emmrich with you during the run to Ghilan’nain, he makes an attempt to apologise for the argument. But both he and Rook know that this is not exactly a good time to have that conversation. She promises to speak with him back at the Lighthouse. He accepts that choice.

I don’t know about how your games played out. But, my game did something beautiful and had no romantic combat dialogue trigger after the argument and up until this apology attempt. Which would be understandable for a couple who has just had a pretty big disagreement. They’re angry with one another and hurting.

It was only after Ghilan’nain had trapped him and my Rook released him, that it triggered again. After the “Emmrich! You’re okay!” “Thanks to you, dearest!”

(Listen to the utter relief in Rook’s voice here, btw)

And then Solas springs his trap card.

And Rook is lost in the Fade.

If I remember correctly in my hazy aftermath of those final missions, it’s implied that Rook was lost for several days. Enough time for the team to create the fake lyrium dagger. I don’t know about you… but I see Emmrich hyper-focusing on this work to try and stop himself from losing his absolute shit in fear.

He agreed to join this group in hopes of seeing and studying ancient magics and beings.

And here’s this pretty, young thing. Wild and free - bringing a little bit of chaos into his well-ordered world.

He finds the love of his life. His soulmate. The flame of his heart. The most magnificent thing that has ever happened to him.

And now he’s lost her.

Her promise of speaking to him later, of them fixing everything after their fight… disappears with her. And his regret of not saying anything… of not just apologising when he had the chance… eats at him.

He feared he lost her forever to the Fade.

But then, by Rook’s own reflection and sheer tenacity, she escapes the prison. Something Solas couldn’t even do without preparing a replacement.

He has her back.

But… Solas cursed her. He needs to make sure the Wolf’s magic is gone. So, he organises a trip to the Necropolis to use its enchantments to ensure she is safe. She is whole. And, there is no trace. She escaped clean and of her own mind. She was able to self-reflect and escape the Prison of Regrets. A prison for Gods.

She is the most remarkable person he has ever known.

The love scene. He finally knows and accepts her love here. She clawed her way out of hell for them… for him. He no longer doubts her love, her affection… that she wants him just as much as he does her.

He allows her to pull him up… pull him to her. Initiate intimacy. Allows her to lead. Another way of showing him that, yes… she wants this.

(And, of course, they would fuck in a coffin. Something gloriously gothic about that.)

Afterward, is wonderfully domestic. New lovers waking, asking if the other would like breakfast. Perfectly happy in this new development. Reassuring each other that hey, this is it. They are truly together now. Everything they do… will be together.

I love you, my darling Rook

No man alive is more fortunate than I

Speak the word, Rook, and I shall stand by your side

They will face the fury of a god-like tyrant, knowing that they will always have each other’s back. He will never leave her side.

He is hers, and she is his… forevermore.

I have loved… truly and honestly loved… this romance. I fear I have spoiled myself. Something about this couple has ticked every single box on my ‘shipper list and has its spiritual claws dug deep into my heart. I honestly don’t think I can even attempt romancing someone else on another playthrough. At least, not for a while.

So I want to say a huge thank you to Sylvia Feketekuty. What a brilliant mind, to create such a wonderful character and romance. Emmrich has to be one of my most favourite Dragon Age characters ever. This romance is one of my most favourite BioWare romances ever. I have adored every second with them… went through every emotion with them. It has been a beautiful experience.

Intimate and Sensual. Perfect description. 10/10.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

[what-eats-owls]

It matters how you do it

I finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard and had some big feelings about it. Spoilers for basically everything under the cut, and frankly, it won't make sense unless you've finished the game anyway.

First of all: I had a blast with this game. I didn't find Act 1 slow, I did find Act 2 a bit of a whack-a-mole, and then Act 3 kicks you in the kidney (complementary) while insisting it's for your own good.

I've seen some recurring complaints: that it lacks depth/edge/darkness, that it abandons previous lore, that the previous choices don't matter. I don't entirely disagree. To me, it felt like a massive Dragon Age 4 game that pivoted to a different, tighter game after complaints about bloat in Inquisition. The key is that when editing down, there's such a thing as trying to trim the fat and taking a chunk of the roast with it.

I enjoy the concept of Lucanis's character, and the voice actor sold the hell out of him, but the storyline felt like being taken to a museum and allowed to see one (1) beautiful unfinished sculpture. Why did Spite, specifically, work? We know the spirit of Justice became Vengeance by abomination, we knew Solas was Wisdom before he became Pride, so what was Spite before, and why wasn't that tied to Lucanis's own personal arc? (Doubly so if you romance him!)

Similarly, Harding was a delight, and her greenhouse was such a lovely little haven. I would have loved to see more explanation of the connection between plants and the titans, and how Harding's own personal struggles with rage connected to that of the titans. She has every reason to be angry and scared, and the game tells us she pushed that away—but we don't actually see her toxic positivity manifest to that degree, until she abruptly has an angry clone.

On the flip side, I loved the other five character quests, and I felt they had solid, poignant arcs that delivered. I also adored their interactions with the codex—if anything, I wanted to see more of that type of interaction on the screen. You have to fill in a lot of the character work for Rook yourself; Rook has all these interesting potential backgrounds, but I think starting the game playing through those, a la Origins, would have gone miles towards establishing more personal stakes up front and made for a stronger start.

So that's all my nitpicking. But let's talk about the bigger theme: It matters how you do it.

In the first Fade conversation with Solas, he gets so mad when Rook refuses to let him DARVO them about the consequences of his botched ritual. This makes way more sense when you understand he's literally imprisoned by his own regrets, and he needs Rook to have that same kind of regret in order to take his place. His entire arc is about rationalizing binary choices and shitty actions that hurt others in the name of a hypothetical greater good that he wants.

Solas can't engineer every binary choice Rook's forced into, but he uses Varric to maximize Rook's regret. He is trying to quite literally mold Rook into him, and the game is great at presenting this both as a coldblooded manipulation and a broken plea for validation—if you let it. You don't have to give Solas a moment of consideration; you don't have to take time to view his memories, or kill his demons, or listen to those scraps of Mythal still holding onto the good in him. You don't have to do any of it.

But you can. And in the end, it matters.

It matters because for every companion, you can encourage them to either be more nurturing/compassionate or destructive/closed off versions of themselves, and that is frequently tied to continuing or breaking from a cycle. (The exception is either Neve or, presumably, Lucanis, who are forced into the Hardened version depending on which city you save.) These aren't presented as morally opposing choices, just who you want them to be. You can see how the Grey Wardens fucked up bad with griffons and decide they have a better place. You can help Emmrich face his fear by finding deeper meaning in life instead of indefinitely postponing death. You can help them do things differently.

So when you get to the final choice in the game, you may have two options: physically force Solas into saving the Veil, or trick him into it. The kind of binary choice Solas has molded you into making by pelting you with cruelty and manipulation.

Or, if you've taken the time, you can get him to understand he's wrong. You bring out the people who saw the best in him and speak to what he's had to endure, even as you're showing him there's another way. You reach him not as Pride, but as Wisdom. And he goes willingly.

Ultimately, I think DA2 and Inquisition grappled with big questions of oppression and violence, faith and authority. It makes sense for those games to delve into harder, uglier subject matter, and ask you to make binary calls.

But my read of Veilguard is that, at its core, it's about how those decisions are meant to trap you in regret at best, and numb you to rationalizing cruelty at worst. It's why the companion who loses their home city becomes colder, more isolated, in response—more like Solas.

That's why it offers you a third way at the very end, but only if you've worked for it. A better way is possible, yet it has to be more than words. You have to understand where the pain comes from, what maintains and is being maintained by the current cycle. Then, and only then, can you break it.

I can't wait to play it again.

P.S. Utterly obsessed with the Trevisan fish merchant.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

[someidiotwithalaptop]

So... about the "Ironwood Was Right" thing.

I recently saw this resurface a bit, in the context of Ruby's regrets in Volume 9. Basically, taking the fact that she felt like she'd failed as the show saying that yes, actually, she was wrong to go against Ironwood's plan in Volume 7.

I feel like I went into thinking about this trying to debunk it on a logical level. Like, is it actually a good idea to fly off into the sky in one big long stalling measure when your opponent is literally immortal? What's stopping Salem from grabbing all the rest of the relics and then just waiting as many generations as it takes, until the people of Atlas forget why they came up there in the first place and return to Remnant out of curiosity?

The thing is, treating it as an argument about what's the more "rational" choice is missing the point that like. We're talking about a story. We don't know exactly how many people are in Atlas and in Mantle and where they are and how many more trips they'd have to take to finish the evacuation, because details like that would just bog things down.

This is not a trolley problem with x number of people from Mantle on one side and y number of people from Atlas on the other. This is a trolley problem with a wealthy and powerful person on one track, and a disadvantaged person an alternate track, and Ironwood choosing to pull the lever instead of trying to stop the trolley. The point is not "how many." It's not about math. The point is that there is a fundamental difference between dying in the central location while a bunch of Huntresses and Huntsmen do absolutely everything in their power to protect you, and dying abandoned in the mines you used to work while the city built off of your labor flies away to safety.

The question this conflict is asking is about whether or not other people can be sacrifices. Ironwood says yes—team RWBY disagree. That's the actual crux of this argument. Does Ironwood have the right to decide who deserves protection and who isn't worth the risk? Do we get to give up on other people before we've even tried to save them? It's about the idea of certain people being disposable. Mantle's wall isn't important, Amity is. Amity will protect all of Atlas, and that wall will only help the people in Mantle. It implies that their safety is an acceptable sacrifice for the greater good. It treats them as disposable.

There's a reason it was Nora who spoke up and pointed out that it's always Mantle being asked to bear the burden for the greater good. Nora has been a disposable person before. Hell, Cinder has been a disposable person! The way Atlas (through the madame) treated a living person as a resource to be exploited or sacrificed is the entire reason that Cinder is trying to burn the kingdom down. Thematically, Atlas cannot escape the danger she poses by sacrificing more disposable people.

One of the biggest themes of this show is cooperation. It's all about how Salem can only be defeated by working together. But working together is not possible if certain people are taking on all of the risk, all of the sacrifice. Everyone has to be willing to put some skin in the game. Like, imagine trying to do a group project if you knew half of you were guaranteed to get an A no matter what and the other half weren't.

So the idea that Volume 9 is supposed to come back around and say that actually, that plan that would have literally divided a city in half and cut loose the poorer half like fucking ballast, that was the right thing all along and Ruby Rose was wrong to challenge it... that would be an absolute disaster of a thematic statement.

This is not a show about hard military men making hard military choices. It's not going to contrive a situation where cold-blooded calculation determines that the right thing to do is to pull up the ladder. Because outside of weird philosophical experiments about trolleys, the right thing to do usually has more to do with empathy. Compassion. Cooperation. All that gay shit.

[hey-august]

Cus saying something about rollercoasters gave me an idea.

What do you think buggy is like if he wants to take his partner to like a fair or theme park or something of the sort. Cus, obv he would. But they're way too afraid to get on most of the rides?

He may tease, sure. That's got to be a given, no? But seeing the terrified look your face after he'd somehow coaxed you into let's say the Ferris wheel? He's holding your hand, telling you it's okay. Describing the pretty lights and stunning view as you slowly get to the top. And while it's stopped all the way up high, you actually look out. Able to relax a bit. It's not so bad. It's pretty, actually. But heights are still terrifying.

Or maybe it's a rollercoaster he had to coax you onto. "Just try it once!"

And maybe he'd regret it just a little. The constant scream right next to him. Absolute death grip on his hand.

Getting on and starting to go up was one thing. The second it sped up just a hair to get to the top is when the screaming started, the tight hold on his hand. Then the screaming got louder as it sped downwards and your hand kept one hell of a death grip on his hand. The only time the screams stopped was so you could take a breath to continue screaming. Once the ride was over though he led you to a nearby bench until you could relax.

Or maybe those teacup rides. Only scared to get on it because.. Well it's buggy. And most people you've been on that type of ride would spin it way too fast and scare the ever loving hell out of you. But he's already dragged you on enough rides and this was one you liked. So he did spin it, but made sure you were okay with the speed. Laughing and spinning it together, enjoying the more peaceful ride.

Though you two did get on it again just to go as fast as possible. Laughing and clinging onto the seat.

I feel like he'd also want to win you a prize. *Of course* it had to be one that was so fucking stupidly hard to get. But he wanted to see you smile, he always did. So he tried. And tried again. And again. And..one more time. *damnit* why was it so difficult? But the second the person who was in charge if the game became distracted with something, even for a mere second, he cheated. Hey, he wanted to get you that prize. And it so happens he can detach limbs. His hand reattaching before anyone can see of course.

Is some of this based on personal experience? Yes. I can't stand rollercoasters, they scare the shit out of me.

My personal story with my first rollercoaster was at Kentucky kingdom. Lightning run. My mother fucking counted. (Yk the count to 3) Just to get my ass on a rollercoaster. I was terrified okay? But, yes, the death grip and screaming was what I did. That was her karma. My loud ass screaming in her ear (I was on her left) and one hell of a death grip. She might have lost a little blood flow for the time being. But she never dragged me on a rollercoaster again. And she never will be able to again.

(I have written more than intended but ideas keep coming)

Heck yes! Buggy would be a MENACE with this. Taunting and goading you into going on the thrilling rides.

PUH-LEASE, only weenies skip the big rides. What's the point in going if you're not gonna ride Mr. Bones' Wild Ride? (okay, maybe skip that one)

Buggy also talks up how the rides aren't even that scary. You eventually give in because:

maybe he's right,

you don't want to miss out on a good ride,

he seems so excited, and

he's getting annoying.

Yeah, the ferris wheel wasn't terrible. A little more shaky that you expected and very high up. But you got to sit next to Buggy. He even bought (stole) you a corndog to enjoy. He ate most of it.

The roller coaster though. Buggy thought he won (what exactly? who knows) when you agreed to go, but a little worm of regret started wiggling when the car reached the apex. Buggy said it was like climbing the ship's rigging on rough waters, but this...did not feel the same. Or maybe it did and he forgot how intense that feels. Both of you had white knuckle grips on the safety bar the whole time.

The tea cup ride was fine. Better. Really nice, actually. Even when it spun wildly, you still enjoyed it. It was less of a competition and more of a cooperative sport to spin the tea cup juuuuust right. Buggy also showed off by using his hands to spin the cup while he leaned back, handless-arms behind his head.

And BIG AGREE to Buggy stealing prizes. He also cheats. A barely-noticeable fingertip knocking over bottles, nudging balls, guiding hoops. He's schmoozing with the game attendees, distracting them from all the other shady shit he's doing. Meanwhile, you stand slightly off to the side and grab whatever Buggy hands you.

Do you need a giant plush sleepy banana? Or five bunny keychains? Or more than three lanyards? Or a frog bucket hat that doesn't fit? Or a bear bucket hat that doesn't fit? Or a cat bucket hat that doesn't fit?

No. But you take them anyways.

---

I'm also right there with ya with some un-fun ride stories, cyra. 😂 Once when I was a younger kid, I CRIED on the queue for Space Mountain. SOBBING. I was scared but we were going to go on the ride. And then the HORROR - I was supposed to sit at the front. Absolutely not. Thankfully, some older teens took pity and sat in the front.

I got on the ride, continued to cry, and shrunk myself so low that my head knocked on the sides of the ride during sharp turns. It was not ideal.

On a lighter note, there was a time where I was on one of those spinning Gravitron rides. The UFO shaped one. And the ride operator would slow down the spinning and then start it right back up. They said we were almost done more than once but everything kept spinningggg. We were hostages in the UFO and it felt like forever. Honestly, I loved it but omg I felt like I was outside of my body afterwards. I was not the same person.

[oscconfessions]

This is something that has been on my mind alot when I see the osc. And I think its time for me to open my mind.

Why is that everytime when someone makes a big mistake in the osc (not counting crimes, thats another story.) they are immedietly outcasted and sentenced to be seen as absolute monster in the eyes of the community? What if they genuienly and actually feel bad for what they did? What if they actually wanted to become a better person? Why must we only keep having this black and white morality in this fandom? Why must we not help each other to become better people? Why is it that when we make one bad thing, suddenly we are shunned forever and ever and ever and hated and judged in the eyes of people. Should they forever be defined by their past and never move on from it?

This is mainly about genuienly feeling bad about past mistakes and all that. None of that fake apology to win the crowd back. One doesn't have to forgive them for what they did nor forget what they did, but I believe that if someone wants to change for the better, become a better person, they need all the help they can get if they want to do that. If you dont want to see them again, its perfect, the story with the person you assossiates ends there but it doesn't end for you or anyone.

In Inanimate Insanity, theres this theme of change and growth I notice in characters like Balloon, Knife and Taco. These three had their own journeys of becoming better people than they were, all back in season 1. Balloon was a bully, Knife was a Jerk and Taco was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

But each of them are going through their own journey. Balloon wanted to become a better person after realizing his attitude in season 1 is not what someone should be in a competition, at that time in episode 9, the others didnt forget what he did in the past and well in that time, forgive him. But OJ gave him advice, to make new friends, and he met suitcase, someone that is worthy of a second chance and stood up for him when he actually tries his best for the team and acts like a true ally, which helped her stand up for Nickel. Balloon eventually regained everyone's trust with the letters and everyone accepted him again.

Knife met Trophy in season 2, and Knife was now put in this position where he became the bully, he was now put in the same position of how he mistreated Marshmallow and Paper. His experience with Trophy changed him and the other contestants knew how that affected him and they tried their way to help him, like Nickel giving him lessons about sarcasm and Suitcase offering him the "random act of kindness". Knife eventually found out the Nickel's advice in sarcasm isn't really helpful as it brings more out more harm when he saw what was going on and he went out to help Suitcase gain the courage to stand up for herself and protect Microphone's secret. He became a nicer but he still has his tough persona.

Unlike these two, Taco is still facing her problems as of now, she lied to everyone who she really is. She is still technically hiding from everyone. Other than Pickle, Baseball, Lightbulb, Microphone, Mephone, Suitcase, Mepad and Knife who all know her presence as of now. Taco is shown to feel regret as she sent Pickle the letters which of course, he burnt them, and honestly I'd be pretty pissed too if I found out my friend lied who they were and never really saw me as a friend at the time. Eventually, as with nothing heard from Pickle, Taco met someone new: Microphone. Taco and Microphone worked together so Mic could win and split the million, but as they work together, things became really risky and dangerous and also make Mic incredibly uncomfortable with Taco's tactics, she is taking matters into her own hands, which made Microphone quit the partnership, this eventually made Taco open her eyes to what she was doing, as well as the game itself. She believes HERSELF to be unworthy of redemption and a fatal flaw that I believe she has is Pride. Taco has a lot of pride in herself and she always puts a wall up in those around her, both Mic and Pickle. Mepad helped her recognize that she needs to confront these problems herself instead of hiding from them, and when she finally meets up with Pickle, she is still putting these walls up. Its something we do alot when coming face to face with our problems, its like when Baseball mentioned about how taking the first step is always scary. Something that I think its important to bring up here is Knife's advice to Pickle, how we cant just give up on something already, and how we always have to try again when things go wrong and that theres always another chance to try again.

Balloon and Knife are doing better now, but Taco is still drowning. It's something I notice alot in the osc when it comes to experience, we have Balloons, we have Knives and we also have Tacos too.

Inanimate Insanity is truely an amazing object show of all time and I think Adam and the crew is doing such an amazing job with it, I am excited to see act 2 and see who will win. So remember, if someone is drowning in their mistakes, please get them out of the water, help them to become better people and if you can't forgive them, that's alright and we have to respect that decision and not do anything forceful. We are human beings, this isn't some court thing where you make a small mistake and its punishable by Isolation from everyone. We are all growing and learning. Beautiful isn't it?

(Please note I wrote all this late at night, like around 2:00 am, so I'm pretty tired and this has been keeping me up all night and english is not my first language, it is now 2:45 am)

.

[thebarontheabyss]

Hello everyone! Down with covid (insert "so 2020 and late!" joke here) and the new update will have to wait for next week :(

But worry not! I'm actually very productive in the meantime and have begun to write the complete character arcs for the story, which was something I never got to, so thanks, covid, I guess.

Sharing everything will be, of course, super spoilery, but I thought I might share some of my thoughts after writing the endings for each character!

No actual big spoilers ahead, but still might want to avoid if you hate any sort of spoilers, even nonspecific ones.

Hastur His arc was mostly realized in my head already; I just had to put it into writing. I just... love this character so much. I can't wait for you to know him - the real him. Hope you'll still love him - I sure do. His story is about the meaning of forgiveness, guilt, and hope.

Yaga

Yaga's arc turned a lot cooler than I thought it would - with a lot of scheming and politics involved. She actually has tons of possible endings. Yaga's arc theme is a story of faith in humanity and its innate goodness.

Shelly

Shelly's story is going to surprise you. That's all I have to say. It's super sad and wholesome all the same - it's about coming to terms with the past, learning to let go, and finding peace and purpose. 

Peisinoe

Their story became darker than I expected, but the conclusion is so satisfying. If you ever grew up with a talent ruined for you by the demands of your peers, you might relate. It's a story about searching for meaning and making peace with the unchangeable.

He Without Name

I just want to say that I am so sorry. Please don't hurt me.

Death

I might never write another character as intricate as Death, and I'm ok with it.

Lilith / Damian

This turned out way more emotional than I had thought it would??? Get ready for a date in hell and some redemption arcs!

Morgan / Morgana

Damn, I kind of regret I added the option to avoid them in the game. I'll have to work hard to make the story without them as inspirational as it is with them.

The Raven

Well, he's too connected to the overall plot to say something explicit about but I loved that I wrote him as a temporary character and he became basically the most important to the plot. GO RAVEN GO

[moociaoafterdark]

My opinion on Rogue Trader companions so far (I just finished act 1)

Idira - deserved better both in story and in gameplay. Seriously, why do enemies target her so much, what did she do?? Also, her insights are very useful, wish I could consult the voices in my head the way she can. And I know for a fact Idira and Vigdis explored each other's bodies, tho I can also see some toxic yuri potential between her and Argenta.

Pasqal - surprisingly chill for a magos! Also, he definitely wants to be called a good boy, but, like, not in a kinky, but platonic way. You know, the same way your dog wants to be called a good boy/good girl. Even though I already play a respectful and chill Rogue Trader, I still try to be a bro to Pasqal (yes, I'm a girl who roleplays as an old dude, what about it?) I do hope that he actually starts seeing you as a close friend/companion later down the story line, because I genuinely love him. Also, Pasqal's melee attacks >>>>>> Pasqal's range attacks.

Argenta - I'm pretty sure at some point in her life, the Emperor sent her back into our time and made her shoot Tr*mp. She missed, as we all know. LIKE. GIRL. PLEASE HIT THE TARGET, I'M BEGGING YOU. Every time it's her turn, I legit start praying to Big E. Story wise... Not gonna lie, out of all the dogmatic leaning characters, I prefer her the most. I especially prefer her over Heinrix. Not that I hate him, and I'm not a big fan of SoB, but... there's something about Argenta that just makes me like her. Though, she is sus. Like really sus. I expect her to do something insane later down the line.

Abelard - MY MAN. Like, yes, I did the quest with the Lower Decks and I know that Abelard is not sunshine and rainbows, in fact, he is quite a classist ass, but! I like that about him! And his dedication and loyalty to both us and Theodora (well, the entire house of Von Valancius) is admirable. I like him a lot :) BUT! I LOVE HIM IN COMBAT. DUDE IS HIM. Every time it's his turn, I know for a fact someone is going to fucking die. AND he is a healer! Dude's theme song is Holding Out For A Hero and I accept no arguments. Might just be my favorite. I hope we get to meet his family, because one of his comments mentioning his youngest great-granddaughter being a working adult made me intrigued. I know that people can extend their life span + he constantly has to travel through the Warp with the Rogue Trader, so I'm curious if they're going to elaborate on that.

Heinrix - I heard a lot about him. I can see why many people thirst over him and ship him with their fem!Rogue Traders and! Good for you! I support yume/self-shipping as well as oc x canon with all my heart! However, he didn't impress me much. Maybe it's because my Rogue Trader is an old man and there were no spicy/romantic dialogue options for him. He is cool, and I did help him complete his mission. Though, I wish he stayed after act 1, because I want to learn more about him... And also I really like him in combat. He's like if Abelard was a psyker, and you already know how much I love Abelard in combat. I wish we get to meet him again.

Cassia - Okay, first things first: I LOVE HER. I love her design and I'm glad we got an abhuman companion, because I want more abhumans in w40k. Love how she is sweet with us and seems, ya know, very demure very mindful, but I do also love she is not like this with everyone, judging by her combat voice lines and how she needs human blood for her paintings. However, that time you are summoned by her after you recruit her to be the ship's Navigator... Hoo boy did I momentarily regret picking a male!Rogue Trader, because *some* of the dialogue options were so cringy and creepy. If you played as a male Rogue Trader, you know what I'm talking about. THANK GOD the game wouldn't reward you for being too fast and too lustful with her from the get-go. Not that I picked those options, but I did read up about Cassia's romance after that event. It does make sense for a sheltered girl like her to be into courtly, romance book type love! Also, she once one-shotted like... 8 enemies with her attack... Really made it easier to focus on Aurora. Blood for Navigator Cassia, skulls for Navigator's Throne!

Jae, Yrliet, Marazhai, Ulfar and Kibellah - I know they exist! REALLY eyeing Marazhai because he is the only possible mlm option in this game. I'm a toxic yaoi whore, I'm sorry. We'll see, because I'm not a fan of Drukhari, but MAYBE Marazhai will make me change my mind.

[shimmeringweeds]

"Past or Future, Let Them Be." vs. "Even without seeing hope, it doesn't mean there is no hope."

In talking about theme, motivation, and growth.

Almost every photograph in season one conveyed a love story. Romantic, platonic, familial, it didn't really matter the form. Season one was about bonds, connections, helping one another, and fighting for a future with no regrets.

It was human. It was relatable. We all loved it.

Season two covered one photograph (two if you count Chen Bin) and a horror story, wherein "love" only brought pain. Bonds held you back, and secrets were kept before connections made. A struggle, full of regrets.

Completely different, weren't they?

I'm sure we all notice how, on the official character profiles, the stickers of the antagonists hide the "future" of "past or future, let them be"?

Interesting. The word "future" implies hope, something season two deliberately lacked. What we witnessed wasn't a fight for the future. It was a fight for survival of the present. In that tunnel? No one was thinking about their future. The game played was a cruel one. Mercy really wasn't in the cards. Who cares about the future when you are barely surviving the present?

Let's talk a little bit about the theming of "hope."

Pt 1: Cheng Xiaoshi . Even without seeing hope, it doesn't mean there is no hope.

Hope always exists, but it's so easily lost.

The first photograph where hope is explicitly themed is DouDou's, and the timing couldn't have been better. After the earthquake, Cheng Xiaoshi is teetering on the edge of hopelessness. He's hard on himself and hard on others. "Take care of yourself now and look forward"; "Live your life, be present, move on," he says. That's not bad advice but..... it's harsh. I wouldn't say these words lack all hope, but they ask you to give up the fight for a future you dream of.

In that moment, Cheng Xiaoshi is trying to cope. He can't save them. Not all futures are possible, and it's foolish to want something you can never have. It's heartbreaking for everyone to watch.

Qiao Ling is the mediator who brings him back. She communicates and is vulnerable and honest with him about her regret.

"I thought I could escape the past... but... he still didn't give up." Haunted by the past, struggling into the present, and fighting for a future you want.

The strongest Three Star Warrior is the star of Justice, rekindling hope. As long as we have hope, we will not be defeated easily.

(also, can we just... as an aside.... their roles????? LG courage-obliterating fear, QL wisdom - light the way, CXS justice - rekindling hope. Because, if that's not blatant theming then I don't know what is.)

DouDou's case heals Cheng Xiaoshi. He helped create a future... and that is BIG. He created a future. From the past. Actively. There is hope!

But doubt still remains like a double edged sword. It surfaces again with Xu Shanshan and culminates with Emma.

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't wait for Lu Guang before he dives. The puzzle is linking. This is his fault. He has to make it right. Immediately. Alone. There is no time.

"Why is my kindness repaid with such consequences?"

In the trunk of the car, upon the discovery that the victim is Emma, the puzzle clicks with devastating swiftness. No one is there to talk him down. It's all his fault. Emma, Xu Shanshan, Qiao Ling, his parents. Who else has he hurt? He's caught in a decision. How does he make this right? Does he follow his heart, or does he follow logic - the rules driven into his head?

It's his fault and so.... Cheng Xiaoshi does not trust his heart. But what does he trust? He trusts Lu Guang. Rules it is.

Pt 2: Lu Guang: Past or Future, Let Them Be.

There are three rules, and the third is most important. In fact, you might argue that the first two rules are simply supplemental to the third.

I'm pretty big on rules myself. They exist for a reason and keep us safe. We trust that those who make the rules know what is best for us.... but, it's not really a one size fits all kind of deal, is it?

That third, important rule, that rule that exists to protect time and everyone in it, that very rule is what is destroying Cheng Xiaoshi's heart. We know Lu Guang sees that, and we know (now more than ever) how much he cares.

His character is still an enigma that is very hard to read, so this is just speculation but -- after the Earthquake, Lu Guang's perspective on the future seems to shift. He was always working to help others, but now he's more proactive about it. He keeps DouDou's flier, he immediately contacts Xiao Li about Xu Shanshan, he tells them what he saw in the photo, he trusts Cheng Xiaoshi to act.

Emma(1) and Lin Zhen/Yu Xia (2) were jobs taken to gather information. Chen Xiao's (3-5) job was taken to give closure. These three jobs helped a person in the present. Did they change the future? Oh, yes. But that wasn't the intent. And that's why you don't ask about the future, because the future will definitely be changed because of them.

Episode 5.5. When Qiao Lings asks them to take a job for Liu Siwen, they don't know the specifics. They don't know that Liu Siwen is now an old man. Upon failure, Cheng Xiaoshi asks Qiao Ling where in the world she found such a task? Lu Guang immediately scolds and reminds him not to ask about the future. Qiao Ling interrupts him (bless her, she was really like "stop, you're being an idiot too") She spills all the details.

In the end, Lu Guang breaks his own rule (as CXS points out, though he says he's just there to keep them in line. yeah, right. ). He actively helps Liu Siwen create a future. A future he literally spent decades fighting for. And that's where the tables turn.

Both DouDou and Xu Shanshan's cases twist two out of the three rules. They actively question the future and they actively change the future. They don't let the past be. And Cheng Xiaoshi is permitted to act outside of Lu Guang's direction. He receives that blessing.

Because Lu Guang saw how much his rules hurt Cheng Xiaoshi. He saw what over protection does to a person. Cheng Xiaoshi wasn't the only one deep in thought after the earthquake.

Episode 11: Pinnacle of Light "But Emma's fate changed because of me. That's why I'll try again, no matter what happens." ------- (BIG side eyes at that wording. Yeah, no wonder Lu Guang agreed to let Cheng Xiaoshi dive into blind surveillance footage.)

Cheng Xiaoshi dives into Emma's past. As himself. He talks directly to Emma. And Lu Guang doesn't stop him. This action is the exact opposite of "Past or Future, Let Them Be." Cheng Xiaoshi couldn't get farther from that phrase if he tried! And oh, he tried. He tried to save Emma. And Lu Guang just let's him. Knowing that death node cannot be crossed. He stays silent. Because he's guided Cheng Xiaoshi as far as he can.

At this point, he can only accept the aftermath of his guidance. Let him be.

Pt. 3: Past and Future vs. Past and Present vs. Present and Future

If season one was about fighting for a future, for hope, then season two was its antithesis. No matter what anyone did, the future was set in stone. It was all they could do to keep up. Qian Jin warping the narrative, disillusioned by the past. Li Tianchen controlling the tempo, always staying one step ahead, firmly in his present hell. Li Tianxi dying in order to reach a "future" (but she's not dead until there's a funeral, we've been through this).

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang barely communicate the whole season. There's no time to. The present moment is that merciless. The start of Li Tianxi's photograph was refreshing because it was like old times, a comfortable place. The banter, the directions, the casualness of it all.

But the past did not give way to a future of hope, and the present came crashing down hard and merciless. And it never let up. The abductions, the deaths, the tunnel. The only reason any of them make it out of that tunnel alive is, ironically, because Xiao Li showed up. (or is it ironic. He's a whole other post I'll never write. )

Season one shaped the past for a brighter future. Season two displayed firmly that the present is fixed and the past cannot be changed.

So season three?

Present into Future. Season two left us with a question to ponder.

Do you accept the fate given to you as inevitability, or do you actively try and shape it?

We see both our "protagonists" and "antagonists" (it's more grey than that, really) moving forward but they're displayed as opposites. Liu Xiao pulls Li Tianchen up, active from the present, out into a future. Does he have a choice but to move forward? Is there anything he can change about his past regrets? No. Maybe not. Present, being directed by one Future.

But Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang? They actively drag us back down to the past. And on top of that it's a choice. A desperate, active choice made to do away with the rules. Past, reshaping potential Futures.

Because even without seeing hope. It doesn't mean there is no hope.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 6

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The weight of it all felt crushing as I sat in my small, dimly lit apartment. The furniture I’d once been so proud of now mocked me a reminder of how quickly everything can fall apart. The life I’d fought so hard to build, the independence I’d clung to, was crumbling right in front of my eyes.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I stared at my laptop, scrolling through the same job listings I’d seen a thousand times. Every option felt like a dead end. My heart raced each time I filled out another application, hoping this one might be different. But deep down, I knew better.

No matter how many resumes I sent, how many interviews I nailed, Steve had his boot on my neck, and it felt like he was pressing down harder every day. This was a long, drawn-out game for him, and I was trapped on the board with no way off.

Out of sheer desperation, I grabbed my phone and started dialing a few of the connections I’d made back when I worked for Rogers and Co. Maybe one of them could offer some advice, a lead, anything to help me claw my way out of this nightmare. But each call was met with awkward hesitations and thinly veiled excuses.

“Sorry, Kiwi. I wish I could help, but…we’re not hiring right now.”

“We’ll keep your resume on file, but, you know…the market’s really tight.”

It was painfully clear: no one wanted anything to do with me. Not with Steve Rogers involved.

"Just say sorry," Natasha said. She’d called to check on me, and with everything piling up, I ended up venting it all. And this was her big advice.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I replied, feeling the frustration build.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Steve feels wronged. So, unless you want to go back to barely scraping by or, worse, moving back in with your parents, you’re going to go to him and apologize."

The weight of everything was crushing me. My savings were dwindling fast, and rent was looming. With no steady income, my anxiety was through the roof. I needed answers. I needed him.

So, I called Steve. Blocked. His work number? Blocked. I even tried reaching out to human resources. No one picked up. It was like I didn’t exist anymore.

With no other options left, I did the only thing I could think of, I went to his house.

By the time I got there, I was a wreck. My mind was a mess of emotions—desperation, anger, shame. I had no idea what I was going to say or how this would go, but I needed to see him. I needed to fix this.

The guard, Curtis, stepped in front of me just as I reached the gated mansion. “I’m sorry, Kiwi, you can’t come in.” Sympathy softened his eyes.

Not that long ago, he’d greet me with a big smile and a cheerful "good morning." Amazing how quickly things could change.

“Please, Curtis, I just need to talk to him,” I pleaded, my voice shaky.

He shook his head, unmoved. “You know I can’t let you in. You’ll need to leave.” His voice soft and regretful

Panic was clawing at my chest. I knew Steve had to be home by now. As long as he didn’t have any impromptu meetings, he should be here. I just needed to stall a little longer.

I continued to beg, keeping Curtis distracted when I saw Steve’s sleek black SUV pulling up to the gate. My breath hitched as the window rolled down.

“Steve! Please!” I rushed to his car, desperation leaking from every word. But then I froze when I saw a girl in the passenger seat. Small, delicate, and almost terrified.

Steve rolled down his window, sunglasses on, face completely unreadable. "This is Lemon," he said smoothly, like introducing her was the most natural thing in the world. "She's my new PA."

The world tilted beneath me. My replacement. Lemon. She looked at me with wide, uncertain eyes, like she didn’t know whether to be worried or sorry.

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare at her, then back at Steve. She was everything I wasn’t-thin, polished, perfect. Her nails were immaculate, her hair shiny and neat. I glanced down at the soft pooch of my belly, the wideness of my hips. I could feel every flaw like it was magnified under a spotlight.

The car inched forward, and just as Curtis started to pull me back, I whispered, “Please... I’ll do anything.”

Steve’s car came to a sudden stop. He turned to me, then, after what felt like an eternity, he told Curtis to let me go.

It took me a second to process what he’d said. He was letting me in. I scrambled into the backseat, heart pounding, unsure of what to expect.

Steve was calm, collected, as he spoke to Lemon about tomorrow’s schedule. He told her which meetings to cancel, which to reschedule, even what kind of coffee he wanted in the morning. I listened in disbelief. He’d never done this with me. I always had to guess what he wanted, figure things out on my own. But with Lemon? Everything was smooth. Easy.

I couldn’t help the sinking feeling that washed over me. I felt like I was being crushed under the weight of my own inadequacy.

The car stopped at in front of Steve’s mansion as a servant came to collect the keys from him. Lemon stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement, and Steve followed, giving her a few more instructions before dismissing her. I watched them, feeling completely out of place.

Steve knocked on the window, signaling for me to get out. I scrambled out of the car, still trying to make sense of everything as I followed him up the grand staircase. My breath was shaky, my legs heavy, and with each step, it felt like the walls were closing in around me.

By the time we reached his home office, I was suffocating under the realization that I had just walked right back into his world, willingly. And this time, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it out.

Steve moved around the room, his back to me, busy with something I couldn’t focus on. My mind was spinning, trapped in the loop of my own panic and anger, trying to think of my next move. What the hell am I doing here?

It wasn’t until he stopped and stood directly in front of me that I snapped back into the moment. Without thinking, without giving myself time to reconsider, I slapped him…hard.

The sting on my palm wasn’t nearly enough to calm the storm inside me. Before he could even react, I hit him again, this time pounding my fists against his chest, pushing with everything I had. But he didn’t budge. It was like hitting a brick wall. He just stood there, solid, unaffected.

“How could you do this to me?” I screamed, tears burning my eyes. “How could you ruin me like this?”

My fists kept slamming into him. I couldn’t stop. “I worked so hard! I wasted so much time, so much effort on you!” My voice cracked, spilling out every bit of frustration that had been boiling beneath the surface for months.

Eventually, the fight drained out of me, my hands falling limp against his chest. But the words kept coming, tumbling out as tears streamed down my face. “You knew, Steve. You knew my situation. You knew I was struggling, and you still choose to play with my livelihood like it’s some kind of fucking game.”

I was sobbing now, choking on the unfairness of it all. “I did everything right,” I whispered “and I’m still fucked.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurry from the tears, and the truth spilled out before I could stop it. “You ruined my fucking life.”

Another wave of rage surged through me, and I raised my hand to slap him again. But this time, he caught me. His grip was firm as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward one of the chairs in his office, forcing me to sit down.

Steve didn’t react to my outburst. He didn’t even look angry. Instead, he stood in front of me, calm and collected, like I hadn’t just tried to claw at him.

“This is life,” he said, his voice maddeningly leveled. “No one’s going to cater to you for free.”

I screamed back, “I was your employee! You were supposed to treat me with some decency!”

He shook his head, as if I didn’t get it. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

His hands slid into his pockets; his gaze fixed on me. It was then that I noticed the way he positioned himself, never quite lowering to my level, leaving me at eye-level with his crotch. My stomach churned with the realization.

"I'm attracted to you," Steve admitted, his voice calm and unsettling. "I've had a thing for you since university." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I convinced Sharon to invite you to the Maldives so I could see you again, to... reconnect." He smirked, as if the memory amused him. "And during the trip, I fell for you all over again. It’s always been you."

"Did Sharon know?" I asked.

"Of course she did. Sharon always knew. She was just keeping your spot warm until you were ready for it. But her ego eventually got in the way."

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. What kind of twisted logic was this?

"She tried her best to keep you from going on the trip, but I was always a step ahead."

"And when she got sick? Was that your plan too?"

"Just luck," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "But it made it a hell of a lot easier to get close to you."

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking away, not sure what else to say. “I didn’t realize.”

Steve’s expression hardened, a flicker of something darker crossing his face. “Bullshit,” he spat. “You didn’t want to realize.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now. I was ruined, jobless, broke, and desperate.

“Please,” I began, my voice trembling, “if you won’t hire me back as your assistant, could you at least help me get hired at another department? Or, if you’re still interested in... dating me…maybe you could find me something elsewhere, another company maybe?”

Steve chuckled, the sound low and dark, making my skin crawl. He began to circle me slowly, touching my hair in the process. But when he spoke again, his voice was firm and cold. “Dating?” He laughed again, this time with more venom. “We’ll be doing a lot more than just dating.” He stopped in front of me, leaning down just slightly, and I could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me.

“What do I get in return?” he begins in a low voice, then raises it, “Ungratefulness? Boundaries?!”

 I froze.

Steve’s eyes locked onto mine, his voice dropping into a whisper that chilled me to the bone. “I want you. And I don’t mind giving you a comfortable life. A life where you’ll never have to worry about money again. But if you want that, you’ll live under my thumb. You’ll have to be mine, in every way.”

My breath caught in my throat. I knew what he was offering, it was everything I thought I wanted at the cost of my freedom, my dignity. “It’s up to you.” He straightens his body slightly widening his stance “What do you want me to do?” I whispered. Silently accepting the offer.

I swallowed, my pride sinking into my chest. I had always been so careful, so determined to keep Steve at a distance, to not let him pull me into this world entirely. But now…

The room felt too small, the air too thick. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists on her lap.

Steve just smirked and his eyes trailed downwards, I followed his line of sight. A sizeable bulge formed, struggling against the zipper of his slacks. I wanted to cry again, Steve probably sensing this “It’s ok, you’ll be able to handle it, you were able to before”

His words take me aback. "What’s that supposed to mean?" I ask.

“You don’t remember all the fun we had that last week in the Maldives? Or when we got back to my mansion?”

I try to recall, but it’s all a blur. Every memory from that time feels hazy; all I remember is feeling constantly nauseous and exhausted.

“What did you do?” I asked

He grins, as if he’s holding on to a secret.

“Welp, it doesn’t matter now.” He moves to unzip his pants freeing his cock from its constraints, and there it was. Solid, looking angry and red with thick veins bulging all over. “We have other matters to attend to.”

I start shaking my head frantically, trying to pull away, but Steve grips my shoulder to hold me still.

"Ah, ah," he says, tone firm. "We're way past that. And remember, things can only get worse from here on out. Don’t just think about yourself, consider your parents and everything they worked so hard for. I can drag this out for as long as I want"

My attention broke once his cock twitched in my face.

This was thrilling for him. Whether it was the idea of me submitting or the prospect of a twisted game of cat and mouse, it hit me…I would never be free of Steve Rogers. I looked up at him, eyes pleading, silently begging him to let me keep my dignity. But he didn’t care.

"I'm waiting," he says in a mocking tone, lifting my chin with his finger before resting his hands on his hips, clearly patronizing me.

I look up to the ceiling a moment trying to hold my tears back, before being forced to face his cock again.

With shaky hands, I went to grab his shaft, it felt so hot, burning almost.

“Go ahead.” He coaxed.

I drew my head closer, sticking out my tongue, this was actually happening. Steve wasn’t going to stop me, and I will forever be known as the woman who whored herself out for a fucking job. God only knows what they’d say, if Steve decided to make this a habit. ‘Oh, look it’s the girl who trades pussy for benefits,’.

My tongue made contact with the head, it felt warm, and his musk quickly invaded my senses.

Fuck it.

I just needed to get to the other side of this, and the best way to do it was to dive in it. I did my best to pull him into my mouth, but he was so big, and girthy. When I heard his moans, I started a game plan, building a rhythm I could get used to, so I wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

But as always, Steve had to fuck that up. He immediately grabbed the back of my head and began swiftly pushing his cock in and out of my mouth. At first, he was gentle, or as gentle as one could be in this situation. Then he was forcing more of himself deeper, and before I knew it, his pubic region was pushing right up against my nose, hairs and all.

I couldn’t take it; I could feel my body preparing to vomit as I began to wretch. I frantically slapped at Steve’s thighs, to make him stop, but he just went harder. My spit started foaming around the areas where my mouth met his cock, dripping down my chin and falling onto my chest.

Tears pouring through my eyes as I begged for this to be over. Steve eventually did meet his climax, forcefully pushing my head into his crotch as he came down my throat, shivering from his climax. making it extremely difficult to breathe. I tried to push against him, but he was so much stronger.

Just as it felt like I was about to faint, he let go. I coughed and gagged, doing my best to compose myself despite the circumstances.

“That was your punishment” he made a grab for my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Next time I won’t be so nice.”

He paused, looking deeply into my eyes, as I struggled for air, a breathless chuckle escaping from his lips “You look so fucking beautiful right now” the smile on his face looking so genuine. Then he pulled me into a deep kiss, his tongue invading my mouth. After what feels like several minutes, he finally separates from me.

“Get up, let’s go.”

He stands straight, and begins fixing his clothes, tucking in his shirt and zipping up his pants.

I find a tissue box on his desk and reach for, before I could pull out a sheet, his hand slaps my own away.

“No, I want you to stay like that for the rest of the day”

I try to protest, but then there’s a knock on the door. I’m unable to gather my thoughts before Bucky walks in, he stops looking between the two of us before smirking and greeting Steve.

"Hey, Kiwi, long time no see." He strolls over to the couch near the entrance and sits down. "Heard you had a great time in the Maldives, too bad I couldn’t make it." He grins, throwing me a wink as he settles in.

Lemon comes in behind him, and I’m just about ready to start crying again, I expected a look of judgment from her, but she seemed more apologetic, and a bit off kilter. Her clothes ragged, and though still shiny, her hair wasn’t as neat as I saw it earlier that day. Steve sits on the chair next to mine. Lemon and Bucky on the couch off to the side.

They start talking business, as I do my best to shrink into myself trying not to burst into tears from embarrassment.

I peeked up at the trio once more and as Steve and Bucky were speaking Lemon was looking right at me. No judgment, and for once, oddly enough, I felt understood.

That couldn’t be a good thing.

After Steve's meeting with Bucky, he gave me a subtle gesture to follow him. My legs felt heavy, but I couldn’t resist. I glanced at Lemon, who looked shaken, her eyes wide with the same fear I felt inside. That’s when it hit me: both of us were trapped. Steve had me, and Bucky had her. We were just pieces in their game.

I followed Steve down the hall, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the polished floors, my mind flashing back to the last time I was in his bedroom, after the Maldives trip. The memories of that night started creeping in, tightening my chest. I swallowed the fear as Steve led me to the bedroom.

Without saying a word, he started undressing, peeling off his shirt, then unbuckling his pants. Every movement made the panic in my chest rise, and my body stiffened. I was bracing for... something. Something I wasn’t ready for.

But then, he stopped. His pants halfway down, he looked at me with a strange expression, irritation lacing his voice. "What are you doing? You know where the bathroom is. Go and get cleaned up."

His command stunned me. I hadn’t expected the reprieve, but I took it. I turned and made my way to the bathroom, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. When I entered, I noticed a silk nighty hanging from the shower curtain rod. It was dark red with black lace trim. My fingers instinctively reached out to touch it, the fabric smooth and delicate under my fingertips. Next to the sink was a packaged toothbrush and new toothpaste…the exact brand I used at home.

I stared at it for a moment, my mind swirling with questions. How did he know? How long had he been preparing for this?

I shook myself out of my daze and focused on getting clean. The warm water from the shower helped ease some of the tension, but my thoughts were everywhere, wondering what would happen next.

As I scrubbed myself clean I heard the bathroom door open I scrubbed myself clean, brushed my teeth, and finally slipped into the nighty. The material clung to my skin, unfamiliar and intimate. I still had my underwear from earlier, but I couldn’t help but feel exposed, and a little gross.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the room was dark. Steve was already in bed, his back turned, but his presence filled the space. I hesitated in the doorway, unsure what to do next. The weight of the night felt suffocating.

Apparently, I stood there too long because his voice cut through the darkness, annoyed and sharp. "Turn off the bathroom light and come to bed."

I flicked the switch, plunging the room into complete darkness, and carefully made my way to the bed. Sliding onto the mattress, I tried to stay on my side, giving him space. But before I could settle in, Steve shifted. He moved closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me toward him.

I was his little spoon.

His chest pressed against my back, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of the nighty. His breath was slow and steady against my neck, but my own breathing became shallow, panic clawing at my insides. I could feel the weight of his arm holding me in place, his grip firm but not aggressive.

Still, it felt like a cage.

I tried to calm myself, counting my breaths, telling myself that this was just sleep. But every inch he moved, every time his body shifted closer, I felt the walls closing in. Panic started to set in again, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

As Steve closed the space between us, his body pressed firmly against mine, something felt off, too much skin, too much warmth. A sudden realization hit me like ice water down my spine.

"You’re not wearing any underwear," I said quietly, my voice betraying the unease building in my chest.

I felt his hand travel down to my pelvis, fingers brushing against the fabric of my underwear. There was a pause, and in a low, disappointed tone, he muttered, "And you are."

The words sent a chill through me, sharper than the night air. His disappointment felt like a judgment, hanging between us in the dark. My mind raced, but my body remained frozen, trapped in the tension of the moment.

“Take it off” he demands

At first, my body tensed, ready to fight back, a surge of defiance pushing through me. But a quick glance at my surroundings. the darkness of the room, the heaviness of Steve’s presence, and the knowledge of how trapped I really was.

So, I relented.

I moved to slip off my underwear, trying to keep my breaths steady, hoping the tremor in my hands wasn’t too obvious. Steve shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to give me space to do what he wanted, his silence suffocating as I removed the last piece of fabric that gave me any kind of security.

When I was done, he wasted no time. His arm wrapped around me once more, tighter than before, pulling me in like I was something he owned. His hand settled back on my pelvis, the warmth of his skin against mine, and I felt his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "That’s better."

The words crawled under my skin, leaving me cold despite the heat of his body pressed against mine. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to lie still, my mind racing even though my body was now as motionless as his grip allowed.

He started moving, his hands roaming over my body, rubbing, groping, pulling at my skin like I was clay in his hands. He couldn’t seem to stay still, his movements growing more aggressive with each passing second. His fingers kneaded my hips, his palms pinched the soft flesh of my thighs, and his body ground into mine, the weight of him pressing me deeper into the mattress.

I could feel his breath quicken, hear the faint growl rumbling in his chest as he kissed down my ear to my neck, his lips hot and greedy against my skin. Every kiss, every touch, sent a wave of nausea rolling through me, but I was too overwhelmed to push him off.

The scent of him, clean, sharp, and suffocating was all I could breathe in, clouding my senses, making it hard to think straight. My body felt heavy, pinned beneath him as his weight shifted, trapping me further against the bed.

His growling became louder, more animalistic, as his lips moved lower, his hands grasping me tighter. I closed my eyes, willing myself to detach, to float above the moment even as his presence consumed every inch of me.

With a careful thrust he pushed his cock between the crease of my thighs, pushing against my pussy.

A sigh released from his chest as he stills. The space naturally damp due to my just getting out of the shower, alongside my plumper physique.

A few moments pass before he starts moving again, causing friction against my lower lips, occasionally rubbing up against my clit. As his movements become more frantic, he grabs of my breasts, and begins pinching and pulling at my nipples.

My own excitement begins to flourish as his movements speed up, and before I know it he stills as his warm liquid spills between my legs.

He takes some time to gather himself, and when I think he’s done, a hand is pulled off one of my breasts, traveling down to my pubis, and pressing his fingers against my clit. Carefully, he begins rolling my button between his fingers, whispering in my ear. “You feel so good” I feel him shift, pulling back slightly before I realize what’s happening. He pushes inside me, and a sharp squeal escapes my lips. Steve growls, his grip tightening around me, holding me firmly in place with no room for escape. Every thrust is deliberate, his body pressing harder into mine as his fingers find their way to my most sensitive spot.

The sensations hit me all at once, my body betraying me as the overwhelming pressure builds. I can’t hold back, and before I know it, I’m trembling, the wave of pleasure crashing over me as I reach my climax.

I rarely experience this feeling, so I keep still, trying to pull myself back from the edge of euphoria. My body was betraying me, and I could hear the wet, unmistakable sound of his movements filling the room. Steve suddenly stops, letting out a breath before chuckling softly.

He hugs me tightly, his body pressing firmly against mine as if nothing had just happened.

"Goodnight," he says, his voice low and satisfied, as though everything was perfectly normal.

I lay there, frozen, the weight of him pinning me in place, unsure if I’d ever truly wake from this.

I close my eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but my thoughts tangle like a knot I can't untie. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, suffocating, yet exhaustion finally won. As the darkness pulled me under, I could only hope that when I woke up, this would all turn out to be a nightmare, one that I was desperate to escape from, waiting for it to end. 

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: Sorry for the long post about reapertale I have alot of thoughts about how I would redo it so here's another. I don't like how gaster is the god of magic either, or how toriel is the goddess of life. Gaster being a god of creation would work more and ties better into his themes as a game dev, and if he created sans and papyrus that would also make them a more cohesive trio because what's the intrim of death and creation? Dreams. Which is what sans can be in control of as a god of sleep. Plus he can still pretend to be lazy while actually doing alot of work. I actually think toriel should be the goddess of magic instead of life since she is the one who tells us the rules of how the game works you could also still have her be a goddess of life and growth (since most gods have multiple domains) I just think she should mainly be magic and we should get rid of the balance idea since...it's just confusing and only exist so their was a reason for the toregore breakup and it makes toriel look irrational. Having death always exist for as long as theirs been creation makes more sense to me. Toregore can break up for other reasons letting asgore actually be angry and do things wrong would be great and tie into how his anger is what originally drove them apart. Plus he's based on Zeus and Zeus is not know for his level headed responses. Make the breakup be because sans reaped chara so he called for sans to give up his title of death to his brother and this can be why toriel breaks up with him or something. He's a nice guy yeah but a big part of his character is making decisions in anger he regrets later.

[wikimb]

Devil Trigger 3.0 for Michael!

A 3rd attempt at designing his DT since 2021 when I made Michael (or rather revived and remade/fleshed out his character from a DMC fanfiction written in 2019...).

I could explain in length the ideas behind this DT, why such a theme, why so... tall. The ramble includes serious explanation of the origins of demonic powers he has as well. If you like to read about it then just check what's under the cut.

Below you have some drawings of his face and also his brother's (name's Gabriel) reaction to his DT form. Michael was more scared of Gabriel's reaction than he actually was and the relief he felt was quite overwhelming.

More in depth below. It includes links to the 2 older versions of his DT for fun comparison.

The theme of his DT is very birdy. The first time I designed his DT it was rather heavily inspired by pre-existing DT designs of our main characters. Nothing wrong with it but it didn't stand out and I also never really vibed with it. It didn't help that I had no experience with any kind of monster design to begin with. I still kinda don't but I can see I got slightly better seeing the 3rd version of his DT. You can check my 1st and 2nd attempts here.

Anyway there are a bit more specific reasons why it's so birdy-looking or angelic-looking (and not just because of his name). Michael was born a human in a family, which was never exposed to anything demon-related. They didn't know demons existed (to a degree... when it comes to his father but I think that'd deserve a separate post as his backstory is a bit wild and how it affected Michael in the end).

As a teenager he got lured into a cult and manipulated into abandoning his family eventually. He didn’t know how evil the cult was and didn't even realize they were a cult to begin with.

It was a cult worshipping Mundus with a leader being one his generals. Her name was Lilith and she was great at making Michael feel that she truly cared for him like a mother figure. She manipulated him into believing his family didn't care for him. Sadly, it was all a game and ever since he escaped the cult, he deals with a lot of guilt and regret. He is not sure if they're even still alive... and if they're dead... what if it's his fault?

The cult's purpose was to turn humans into demons, who would serve Mundus. To ensure that they were forced to undergo a ritual stripping them of all of their humanity, their human personality and replace all of that with Mundus overwhelming power. The power, which was great but taking away all of their free will they could have. These people were technically demons at this point. If the ritual failed then it was usually fatal. Thing is, the ritual was a stolen concept from the time when Lilith infiltrated Fortuna's Order of the Sword. In a way she influenced Agnus to come up with such a ritual, then she took the idea and modified it a bit.

Michael's case could be qualified as a failed ritual after, which he should have died but the amount of demonic power he received was not big enough to kill him (because human body would be able not to handle more) but instead keep him alive. And as a result it continued transforming/mutating him into a demon-hybrid like Dante or Vergil, but artificial.

Even if using demoning powers was causing various unpleasant side effects for him but with each use, it hurt less and less. He was reluctant to use his powers actively, fearing that they could make him loose his humanity. He still used the passive abilities such as sensing demon magic.

After certain events he unlocked his Devil Trigger. As a side note I do have 2 ideas for what these moments were but for now I am not sure which one is better.

Anyway, yes, Michael underwent a modified version of Ascension Ceremony! That's why he has such an angelic look, just like the guys from Fortuna. The demonic powers are originating from Mundus but failed to take away his free will, his personality, his humanity, his memories. In other words, he is the same like before - just juiced up with Mundus power (which he is afraid to use anyway). Certainly a result which a Demon Lord would actually hate to find out about as it has a potential to backfire. Not like he has to "worry" about three Sparda descendants already. But if you saw Mundus himself, he also looks rather angelic too. Or at least that "statue form" if that orange weird blob is meant to be really him.

Compared to DTs already seen, he is quite massive. I think it can be simply a feature of Mundus power, in which Devil Trigger state makes one much larger than in human form. Mundus is a titan-sized demon himself, while Sparda was shown to be rather human sized. Heh, maybe if Michael had Sin Devil Trigger form then he could be Mundus-sized.

Though, Michael has the ability to go Berserk (but it's not controlled by his will and it triggers under strong distress), which enhances his power in human form and in DT form. It manifests as blue fire instead of orange fire. Maybe Berserk DT can get this big maybe. Could wrestle demons like Goliath then xD

[wildissylupus]

I'm going to say this and I'm going to say this loudly, the reason Kiriko's character is bad is specifically how she's treated in game with her voice lines along with how they have written her bio, hero bio's also mainly being a game thing. The big reason why is because we see more of her character's complexity and how she truly feels about things in "Yokai" and "Where Honor Lives", but that's bad because the casual gamer won't be reading those because they are short stories. The only people who really read them are people who play and interact with Kiriko specifically because of the lore, even then fans will likely only read and analyze the stories that have characters they're invested in. So if your not already a fan of Kiriko or Hanzo your not likely be invested or want to read either of those stories.

Which leads to the major problem of the fact that a majority of Kiriko's voice lines in game aren't used to further characterize her or explore her lore, they are instead used to make her say quips and attempt to make her the "relatable" character that D.Va was. They're basically used to show off "hey, we can right dialogue like the MCU", and in the worst way possible.

Again she has equal/more one-on-one voice lines with Lucio, a character she has no canon connection with, the Genji or Hanzo. Hell the only one-one-one interaction she has with Genji is about them having bowl-cuts, it's basically nothing. The only interactions that, to me, feel fully in character for her are her interactions with Hanzo, Sombra and Pharah. Along with that, if Kiriko is mad at Hanzo for running away, she should also be mad at Genji for doing that same! Hell, I would honestly like to see her be more upset with Genji because if he was with Overwatch he could have helped her and her family. At least Hanzo has come back, at least he's trying to help now!

(I feel like I need to state that this isn't what I actually feel towards Genji, this is more how I feel Kiriko should feel towards Genji)

There's also the fact she should be more hostile towards ex-Blackwatch members in general. Like, why is she joking with Reaper when interacting with him would be a good opportunity to show how she feels towards what Blackwatch did? Why doesn't she have any interactions with Cassidy despite the fact he's admitting to regretting what happened in Hanamura? Why does she only have one one-on-one interaction with Genji despite the two of them being closer then Kiriko and Hanzo? Also why is the interaction about Asa, Kiriko's mother, being someone Dommfists knows with Genji? Why is that interaction not with Kiriko?

Why don't we get more interactions like she has with Hanzo, that show the weight of the sacrifices she's had to make? That show the bitterness she feels about the whole Shimada situations? Interactions like with Sombra where we see she's willing to take anything that will help her fight against the Hashimoto, that she doesn't play games when it comes to her peoples safety? Interactions like the ones with Pharah that both show a competitive side to her and gives us a good look on her moral code?

Why do I need to micromanage what dialogue and interactions I take from her to get a good grasp on her character and what she's like?

The reason I ask all this is because Kiriko is a character I genuinely enjoy and even relate to. Her relationship with her mother reminds me of mine with my own mum. I find the theming of consequence, honor and sacrifice found in her characters story interesting. I see her dynamic with Hanzo, how it parallels Genji and Cassidy, how Hanzo reacts to her in general, and find it compelling.

I'll do a full analysis on Kiriko's character in a different post because someone needs to do her character justice, since whoever is directing and writing the in game dialogue is refusing to.