#Reporting For Duty Duchess

[elvencantation]

YESSS CROWN OUR DUCHESS WITH HALOS

[uwu-mi]

Reporting for Duty, Duchess!

Description: As a successful captain in the military, Yun-a is an icon of success and power. But after an accident on the battlefield, she finds herself trapped in a romantic fantasy novel. Stuck in a supporting role as the best friend to the main protagonist, Yun-a is determined to overturn the plotline and change Rosalie’s fate. Will she be able to change Rosalie’s fate and find happiness in the new world? Will she return to where she was originally from?

My review:

I would like to start this review by saying that I only read 16 episodes of this manhwa and I doubt I will be reading any more of it.

It's not bad, well... it's not problematic bad, but it's just poor execution and extremely boring bad.

Main character is Yun-a/Rosalie is just very bland and kinda annoying. She starts the series by reading her friends novel and stating that she doesn't like any of the main characters especially the protagonist best friend.

Yun-a is very much not like the other girls and kinda sexist type of character who immediately blames Rosaline for never breaking free of her mother abuse and for being too soft for her position.

I thought that there will be "From a Knight to a Lady" arc where the main character understands that there is diffrent ways of being strong and learns to appreciates other women. I was wrong.

But plain and boring characters is one thing, genuinely poor execution is completly another.

There is no feeling of consequences or even time in that story.

Yun-a resolves all Rosaline household problems in first 4 chapters and if not for the dress change I would think it happened in just one day.

Also in those first episodes Yun-a many times takes notice how her new body is much weaker, but also in 4th chapter she challanges a night to a duel using just a dagger and wins without a problem - no training to gain back her strenght needed.

She also suddenly wears pants and turtleneck?? Which is extremely modern outfit and so out of place but no one bats an eye when she shows up like that for the first time. I just can't understand why would she wear a turtleneck instead of plain white shirt like other knight characters. Also if she just prefered pants over dresses due to her modern experience I don't get why wouldn't she wear them more often - she wears pants on the training grounds and she wears pants during her walk through the city, but she wears dress when she's supposed to learn how to ride horses, which without propper saddle makes the whole lesson usseless

Manhwa also has a problem with stakes.

There were multiple scenes where there would be like a big build up only for the situation to be resolved in one panel, or even behind the scene so we can only watch the "effects" without any of the actual scenes.

Thers is also a problem with telling instead of showing.

There is that one scene where Yun-a and ML meet the guards and she immediately makes a scene to distract them from their interrogation. Later ML asks her how she knew he didn't want to share his name and she replies "Intuition". There is no close up on the faces to show what they might be thinking, no inner monolog explaining why she did what she did

There is no character chemistry, no stakes, no consequences - just one big nothing.

[manhwa-horses]

[choujinx]

DAEWINIM! IBEON JEONJAENGTEONEUN IGOSINGAYO? (2022-?) by bitterber

[toontalks]

Day 4 of recommending webtoons with pretty art<3

[beloveds-embrace]

(dukedom au, but you are gone for a week cue four men yearning)

The estate feels terribly empty without you.

At first, John tells himself it is only because the house is large and his duties are many. It is a fine excuse- an easy one. He can pretend, for a little while, that his mood is not soured by the absence of your voice at breakfast, by the fact that your perfume no longer lingers in the halls, by the cold, empty side of the bed where you normally sleep.

A week. A mere week, and yet John feels as though you have been gone an eternity.

The others are no better.

Johnny, usually so full of mirth, lingers in the kitchen longer than necessary, creating dish after dish that no one eats. He sets out a plate for you at every meal, stares at it as if willing you to appear. Sometimes, in a fit of frustration, he abandons the dining table entirely and takes his meals in the kitchen, where the staff quietly shuffle around him, their own hearts aching for the absence of their beloved duchess.

Kyle keeps himself busy, burying himself in the estate’s affairs. He goes over reports he has already read twice over, polishes the silverware himself when he thinks no one is looking. John finds him in your sitting room one evening, carefully dusting the spines of your books, though that is hardly his duty.

And Simon, ever so composed, ever so unreadable, is perhaps the worst of them all. He disappears for hours at a time, taking long, aimless rides through the countryside, returning only when the moon has risen high in the sky. He never says where he goes, and no one dares ask, but John knows it is longing that chases him from the estate. When he is not riding, he is haunting your parlor, sitting in your chair by the fire, fingers tracing over the embroidery of the cushion you had so painstakingly stitched by hand.

John had thought himself a patient man. He had been patient when you were wed, when you were shy and uncertain in his home. He had been patient when you discovered his lovers, when you had laughed instead of recoiled, when you had slowly, slowly, let yourself be drawn into their warmth.

But this- this absence of you-

John is not patient now.

He receives your letters, of course. Short, sweet things, penned in your careful hand. You speak of your relative’s health, of the weather, of how you miss the estate and the men who reside in it. You ask if Simon is eating properly, if Kyle is getting enough sleep, if Johnny is not overworking himself. And John- you ask of him too.

I dream of you, my love. I think of you often. Of all of you. Do you think of me?

John exhales, rubbing a hand over his beard as he stares at the parchment. He is sitting at his desk, the candlelight flickering, casting long shadows over the room.

Do you even need to ask?

He folds the letter carefully, setting it atop the others in his drawer. The mere thought of you dreaming of him makes his body ache in ways he cannot put to words, even as he pens a reply for you. He does not mention how empty and lifeless the the estate is without you- you must be worried already by your relative’s health and tired still from the long journey. He can’t put more on your plate.

Though, he hates how the days pass slowly.

By nightfall, John sits alone in the drawing room, a fire crackling low in the hearth, but the seat beside him is empty. Your embroidery frame remains untouched. He glances at it, at the last piece you had been working on- a delicate bloom of violets, only half-finished- and finds himself running a finger over the fine thread.

“Ridiculous.” He mutters under his breath. And yet, he does not move from his place, staring into the fire as if waiting for the sound of your footsteps.

In the kitchen, Johnny kneads dough with more force than necessary, his arms sore from the effort. He does not complain, but his movements are sharp, restless.

Johnny knew he would miss you. He had expected it, had braced for it when he kissed your cheek in parting and told you to travel safely. But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.

The kitchen is too still. He finds himself setting out two teacups in the morning instead of one, expecting to hear your soft voice asking what was for breakfast. He catches himself reaching for the honey you like, only to stop halfway and set it back down with a sigh.

He spends more time than usual baking, filling the kitchen with scents of warm bread, sweet pastries, things you love. The staff enjoy it, of course, but they aren’t you. They don’t smile at him with that particular look in their eyes, don’t sneak tastes of jam off the spoon when they think he isn’t looking.

On the fourth evening without you, Johnny sits at the long dining table, his hands folded in front of him as he stared at the empty chair where you usually sat.

“I should’ve gone with her.” He mutters, drumming his fingers against the polished wood.

“You wouldn’t have been allowed,” Kyle replies, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “She wouldn’t let you drop everything just to follow her like a lost pup.”

Johnny huffs, but he doesn’t argue.

Kyle, ever dutiful, remains composed, but there is an air of unease about him. The routine of the estate is well-kept, yet something is missing. Someone is missing. He finds himself checking the front gates more often than usual, as if expecting your carriage to appear earlier than usual.

Kyle keeps himself busy. He always did, and this week is no exception. The house still needs running, duties still need tending. But even as he works, he feels the weight of your absence like a missing piece of a puzzle.

He notices it in the small things. The way the household staff move, more subdued, missing the warmth you carried into every room. The way the evening routine feels… off. You had a habit of lingering in the hallways after supper, speaking softly with the maids, the footmen, offering a kind word or a knowing glance when someone needed it.

Without you, the house feels colder.

Kyle does not sigh or linger by windows, does not wallow the way Johnny or John do. But on the fifth day, when he enters the library to set fresh candles, he pauses by your reading chair. One of your books lays open, a silk ribbon marking your place. He reaches for it, smoothing a hand over the page before exhaling slowly and setting it back down.

That night, he locked the doors a little later than usual, waiting- just a little longer- for the sound of your return.

Simon, meanwhile, says nothing. He does not pine aloud, nor does he linger like the others. And yet, there is no denying that your absence gnawed at him.

He had been the last to fall for you, the last to let you into his heart. He thought himself made of colder things, of old scars and solitude, yet you had settled into his life as if you had always belonged.

And now, you were gone.

Simon finds himself drawn to your rooms, not stepping inside, but lingering just outside the threshold. He will not enter without you there. But he stands in the hallway sometimes, late at night when even the candles had burned low, and simply… listens.

There is no sound beyond the distant hoot of an owl. No soft breathing, no rustle of your gown as you move through the rooms.

He closes his eyes.

“Come home soon, Duchess.” He murmurs, voice lost to the empty halls.

The estate is not whole without you.

By the seventh day, they are restless.

John stands at the front of the house, hands clasped behind his back as he stares down the road. Johnny hovers in the entrance hall, pacing. Kyle has ensured everything is perfectly arranged for your return. Simon has taken to standing in the courtyard, watching the horizon.

And then- at last- the distant rumble of carriage wheels.

They do not rush, do not appear desperate, but the moment your carriage comes into view, relief ripples through them.

The door opens. You step out, your gaze sweeping over them- soft, surprised at the intensity of their presence. And then you smile, and it is as if the week of longing melts away in an instant.

John steps forward first, taking your gloved hand and kissing it, but his grip lingers. Johnny barely restrains himself from pulling you into an embrace. Kyle exhales, tension easing from his shoulders. Simon says nothing, but the way he looks at you speaks volumes.

“You’re home, Duchess.” John murmurs.

Your smile widens. “I am.”

And at last, the house is warm again.

Dukedom au masterlist

[archeo-starwars]

You wouldn't happen to have an extensive layout dissection of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant? Or even a list of all notable and obscure sections of the Jedi Temple? OR or even labelled areas that are public and reserved for only temple residents. Both from canon and legends, please and thank you!!!

The best I managed to find comes from Star Wars Complete Locations - you may check out the whole archived version here. The “zoom in” option is pretty good for reading details. Below the pages (I suppose the best is to open them in new tab for better reading):

As for the list of locations, I recommend wookiepedia's list. Plenty of data, both for Legends and New Canon.

Additional sources worth to check out:

Jedi Temple Locations & Jedi Temple History - both published as official material on star wars.com in regard to prequels and New Canon sources. Pictures and references to various places inside Temple.

Star Wars.com's The Clone Wars episode guide + videoclips from the series, like

A) Jedi Archives Tour (the entrance to one of the most restricted areas of the temple: The Holocron Vault).

B) Layout of Jedi Temple Library (source)

C) Jedi Temple funeral room + environment illustration by Tara Rueping (source)

Old Data Bank for Jedi Temple

HoloNews mentioning "a mob of 20 university students attempted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple" and "managing to get as far as the Second Atrium Lobby"

Star Wars Battlefront (2) game wiki provides some map and location description

and if you have time (and patience) you can watch gameplay from 501st Legion's mission in Jedi Temple for reference, like this one

The wookiepedia's articles should give enough good idea of the rooms, their location and functions, but I'm adding a few source pages:

STAR WARS: FACT FILES #36 provides a lot informations what and where was inside the Temple and some general data about visitors, security, Grand Balcony, Grand Corridor & Towers. Not all is super specific, but worth checking out for sure.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia mentions this:

and for Jedi Temple entry:

As for the named locations that are public or reserved for only temple residents, there is definitely a division like that, however I'm not sure if this issue was very well explained. The source gives us some ideas, like for example, Jedi Archives have data accessible only for Jedi with rank of Master or higher (thus most likely separated areas to study). At the same time, Fact Files #25 says that Jedi Archives offers an "excellent resources to researchers, including star-map hologram consoles", but also an access to entire scientific and historical knowledge of the Republic

so non-Jedi were allowed to use Jedi Library/Archives for their own research and work-related needs. We also must remember that the Jedi Order had various scientific branches, including archaeology, exploring unknown regions, and medicine, so logically thinking Jedi worked with other, non-Jedi specialists of many fields.

We also know from various sources, that politicians and important guests were invited for various occasions. We could see in Republic comics series that Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and senator Ask Aak were allowed to listen to Jedi reporting before High Council about his last battle

or attending Jedi Funeral like Duchess Satine and Padme Amidala did for the (fake) Obi-Wan's one or just visiting as a friend/comrade-in-arm

I would need to make more research about this issue as there is plenty tie-in material to Jedi Temple on Coruscant that would take a lot time to study, but at this moment, I think the best is assume how far a non-Jedi may walk into Temple will depend greatly who is that person and what is nature of their business with Jedi.

At the same time, Purge: Seconds to Die has this line "Clone Troopers? This deep in the Temple? Not permitted."

The Jedi was in Archives herself, so it is worth to take into account that clones could have more limited access to Temple than the average guest before war did. At the same time, clone troopers could make a report before Yoda and Mace Windu/High Council, as was presented by Star Wars Tales (Honor Bound):

so it is not like they were outright forbidden to enter the temple either.

Hope it will help!

[elvencantation]

HAREM HAREM HAREM

[callsign-rogueone]

this is me trying - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader when life gets to be too much, there will always be one person you can turn to. [request] 🎧: “Maybe I don’t quite know what to say, but I’m here in your doorway, I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying,” — this is me trying, Taylor Swift words: 584 🏷: no Iron Flame spoilers, just Bren taking care of his girl when she’s sad. slice of life. I left it kinda vague, so you can decide if it’s Duchess or not (reader is part of the revolution, but that’s it). this may be the fastest I’ve ever completed a request. life has also been a lot for me lately, and I gotta take care of my bbs when they’re sad!! plus, it’s Brennan, so 🥰

You knock on the doorframe gently, hesitant. 

Brennan sighs, looking up from the parchment, clearly exhausted. “Hi, love.”

“Hi,” you manage, immediately regretting the decision to come up here and interrupt his work; the unfinished incident reports strewn across his desk, the foot-tall stack of books unread, multiple letters from your allies across the continent that need to be replied to… 

He recognizes the look on your face, the crack in your voice as you try to hold it together; he knows you’re going to cry. “Whoa, hey,” he soothes, softening instantly. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head no, feeling silly — you aren’t hurt, just overwhelmed and tired. He has so much on his plate already, without you and your emotions distracting him from his duties. You should have sorted this out yourself, or found someone else to confide in. “It’s nothing, really. I should go, I’m sorry..."

He sees straight through your excuse, using that gentle but firm tone he takes with you when you get like this, the one that tells you he won’t take no for an answer. “It’s clearly something. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what it is. Life’s just been a lot lately,” you sniff, still trying to hold in your tears. You squeeze your hands together in an attempt to comfort yourself from where you still stand in the doorway of the office.

He feels a wash of guilt — he’s hardly seen you this week, too preoccupied with his responsibilities as an army Major to think of his responsibilities as a partner.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, setting down the paper and opening his arms.

You move to stand in front of his chair, letting him settle you across his lap, your knees draped over one of the armrests.

You’re so glad that you’d convinced him to replace that rickety wooden thing with something much more comfortable; a tall upholstered armchair that can support the weight of two people like this. You already feel better as you rest against the warm muscle of his chest, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

“M’sorry,” you whisper, “I know you were busy…”

He shushes you softly. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’ll never be too busy to hold my girl.”

A tear finally falls as you realize that you were wrong, that it wasn’t stupid to feel this way, that you’re not bothering him. He brushes it away with a gentle sweep of his thumb.

“You can always come to me when you feel like this, no matter what I’m doing. I love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he soothes, rubbing your back. “My brilliant, compassionate, sharp, kind, strong girl.”

“Half of those words mean the same thing,” you mumble into his shoulder, though you really do appreciate the affirmations, the reassurance that he’s here for you.

He laughs softly. “There she is. Now, why don’t we find ourselves some dinner?”

He feels your grip on his shirt tighten ever so slightly, your head nuzzling into his neck.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you ask quietly, not wanting to leave his arms.

“Of course, my love.”

He finally relaxes into the plush upholstery, sighing deeply. He’d needed this more than he realized, needed your softness and the gentle pressure of you leaning into him to drain the stress away.

The paperwork can wait until tomorrow — the revolution will survive another day without it being completed, and he has more important things to do right now.

[sussex-newswire]

"Let’s get it out of the way: Meghan is not a tradwife. Her show is not pushing an agenda for women to give up their ambitions to commit to motherhood. She’s not promoting a bastardized version of family life that fetishizes archaic demands of what a ‘real woman’ should be or endorsing politicians who are trying to make that horrific memory of our near-past our mandated future. If you watched her make cakes and talk to Roy Choi about MSG and thought, ‘this is tradwife stuff’, perhaps you should take up a new hobby or find a sense of proportion.

"It’s also just unfair and sexist to declare that any sort of pleasure one takes in domestic or hosting duties is the symbol of conservatism. As someone who really likes putting together dinner parties and gift bags for my friends, seeing such moments of kindness and open-heartedness viewed as propaganda for anti-feminist agendas is exhausting. Truly, we cannot win. Are we all feminazi shrews who have rejected family values or are we barefoot in the kitchen and letting the gender down?

...

"Of course, it’s also just hilarious to hear royalist reporters and the unofficial stenographers of the Windsor clan claim that they’re appalled by the idea of Meghan the tradwife. There is no more potent a tool of anti-feminist propaganda than the fairy-tale of marrying a prince, giving up your entire identity, and embracing a life where your only job is to have a bunch of kids and look good in expensive dresses. What, is it not tradwide sh*t because they pay a cleaner to do the dishes?

"And this is what baffles me most about the latest anti-Meghan cycle. The people mad at her were the ones who wanted her to be a silent spouse and baby machine. They were rooting for her to become the public face of an outdated ideal that rejected 21st-century womanhood in all its liberating variations. For all of their talk about ‘modernizing the monarchy’, their hatred of Meghan’s most basic of actions (closing her own car doors, giving her own speeches) revealed how much they wanted traditionalism to remain the status quo. It’s not just Meghan, obviously. Ask any woman who’s been shamed for not wanting to marry and have kids (hi, it’s me), or those of us who have been bombarded with Andrew Tate and Elon Musk quotes regarding our place in society. They don’t want us to have a choice in anything. That a millionaire duchess who is as radical as a pumpkin spice latte is too modern for them signals the smothering trap they want all women to be forced into."

[choujinx]

DAEWINIM! IBEON JEONJAENGTEONEUN IGOSINGAYO? (2022-?) by bitterber

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Polishing a Markled Turd 💩

"...the British Press Said that..." Puff Piece written by "Forbes" reporter who covers ENTERTAINMENT trends. Conor Murray was tasked to submit a puff piece using a "Forbes" byline: Markle’s ‘With Love, Meghan’ Renewed For Another Season—Despite Low Review Ranking

Meghan Markle and her Spare blame the United Kingdom their disastrous Netflix performance.

Mar 7, 2025 Meghan Markle’s new lifestyle Netflix series, “With Love, Meghan,” will return for a second season despite a dismal response from critics, as the series places in the top 10 of Netflix shows on the streaming platform Friday.

With Love, Meghan," a lifestyle series for Netflix, has been met with a negative critical reception. “With Love, Meghan” premiered Tuesday on Netflix, featuring eight episodes of the Duchess of Sussex inviting guests to her California home, where she cooks and engages with guests in homemaking projects. The series will return for a second season, both Netflix and Markle confirmed in Instagram posts on Friday. The renewal comes as Markle’s show has been roasted by critics, particularly in the United Kingdom, leaving it with just a 28% critics score on Rotten Tomatoes and an even worse 18% audience score (though the latter system is notoriously easy to game). “With Love, Meghan” ranks as Netflix’s No. 7 show in the United States on Friday, according to the streaming service’s daily charts.

Chief Critics: Markle’s show has been torched by critics since its debut, especially in England—where Markle remains a divisive figure after she decamped the country with her husband, Prince Harry, stepping away from their royal duties—with British newspapers:

The Guardian (1 of her Meghan Markle's favorite sources)

The Independent both giving the series a one-star rating. The Independent called the series “queasy and exhausting” and like a “millennial blog come to life.”

Variety (since when is Variety British) said Markle appears “unwilling to step outside the role of perpetual A student” and “lacks similar competence” to lifestyle gurus Martha Stewart and Ina Garten.

Key Background: On “With Love, Meghan,” Markle invites guests to her home that include actress-writer Mindy Kaling, her former “Suits” co-star Abigail Spencer and celebrity chefs Roy Choi and Alice Waters. The series is one of many media ventures she and her husband have undertaken since leaving their royal duties in 2020. Harry’s blockbuster memoir, “Spare,” became the fastest-selling nonfiction book ever. The couple signed a deal with Netflix (Megafestingly) reportedly worth $100 million, for which they have produced five shows, including the 2022 “Harry & Meghan” docuseries, which was a ratings hit but prompted a mixed response from critics. Markle also hosted a short-lived podcast for Spotify, “Archetypes,” which lasted for 12 episodes before she parted ways with the streaming platform. Spotify’s head of podcasts Bill Simmons slammed Harry and Markle after her podcast ended, calling them “grifters.” actually he called them "fu-ing GRIFTERS"

Further Reading: Meghan Markle’s ‘With Love, Meghan’ Roasted By Critics—The Royal Couple’s Latest Media Venture Struggle (Forbes)

Conor Murray is a reporter covering trends in entertainment and culture. He is based in Jersey City and joined Forbes in 2022. Murray has covered the messy rollout for Kanye West's latest album, the Stanley water bottle craze and right-wing backlash against companies deemed "woke." He previously covered billionaires with the Forbes wealth team and covered pop culture and TikTok trends for NBC News. He graduated with a degree in political science from the University of Pennsylvania in 2022. Follow Murray for continued coverage of social media trends, celebrity controversies and the movie and music industries. 

[rhaenyraqueenred]

The Untamed AU: Bridgerton Version.

Mister Whistledown reports:

"Ah, dear readers, it seems the unthinkable may be unfolding in the grand halls of our ton! Marquess Jiang Cheng, the heir to the powerful Yunmeng Jiang Clan, has been spotted in private company with none other than Lady Wen Qing.

Yes, that Lady Wen Qing, who hails from the infamous Wen family, known for their dark history and tainted reputation. Yet, it is said that the fiercely proud Marquess has not only been drawn to her beauty and skill, but also to her fierce independence—traits that mirror his own.

The whispers are growing louder: it is rumored that Marquess Cheng, perhaps out of a misguided sense of honor or love, has gifted Lady Wen a token of his affections—a fine comb, so rare and exquisite that even the Duchess of Lanling Jin, Lady Jiang Yanli, his own sister, was heard to exclaim her surprise. Is it an engagement gift? Or is this simply another one of Jiang Cheng’s many impulsive acts? Only time will tell, but sources close to the Marquess claim he may be considering an escape—a secret elopement to a place where their families’ disapproval would mean nothing.

But alas, the Marquess finds himself caught in a most troublesome dilemma. As the heir to the Jiang Clan, he is bound by duty, honor, and the expectations of his family. How can he continue his bloodline, preserve his family’s legacy, and still hold onto the woman he has come to adore? As for Lady Wen Qing, the ever-graceful healer, she too faces the weight of her own family’s reputation. It seems the road ahead for them will be a difficult one, but what would love be without its trials? Keep your eyes on this couple, dear readers, for the drama is only just beginning, and if rumors are to be believed, they may very well surprise us all!"

(Who is behind Mr. Whistledown. I bet is Huaisang).

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Conversation

Cullen

Trespasser Masterpost Cullen Masterpost

Married Cullen: There you are. I… I just realized I’m greeting my wife. I rather like this.

Romanced, not married Cullen: It’s good to see you. Cullen: Maker, you’re a lovely sight.

Cullen continued lyrium Cullen: This place never fails to give me a headache. Forgive me—I’m at your service, Inquisitor.

Cullen: Was there something you needed?

1 - Dialogue options:

General (Leliana Divine): Leliana’s back. [2]

General: Is there anything to report? [3]

General: Back at the Winter Palace… [4]

General: How is your family? [5]

General: We’ll talk later. [6]

2 - General: Leliana’s back. PC: Have you had a chance to speak with Leliana? Away from work, I mean. Cullen: Some, yes. Leliana has kept in contact—unofficially, of course—but it’s good to see her again. Arguing with her in person is far more satisfying.

3 - General: Is there anything to report? PC: Is there anything I should know?

Cullen quit lyrium Cullen: We were permitted soldiers here, but our every move is watched. Some things never change. [back to 1]

Cullen continued lyrium Cullen: Our every move is watched and evaluated, though that’s hardly news. There have been a few… “polite” restrictions. We were allowed soldiers, but requests for repairs, lyrium, access to certain places—it’s all highly scrutinized.

Dialogue options:

Special: So, lyrium rations… [7]

[Back to 1]

7 - Special: So, lyrium rations… PC: Do you… have everything you need? Cullen: I had hoped for a contact to—it’s an irritation, nothing more, Inquisitor. I’ve rations enough to fulfill my duties, assuming the talks are not prolonged. If that’s your concern. PC: To fulfill your duties? You do the work of ten people. Cullen: As it were. [back to 1]

4 - General: Back at the Winter Palace… PC: Do you remember the first time we came to the Winter Palace?

Cullen continued lyrium Cullen: The endless small talk—it’s all a blur now. Until that Duchess, ah… Gaspard’s sister… PC: Florianne? Cullen: I remember. (Sighs.) Given how many have tried to kill us, it’s a wonder I remember any of their names. [back to 1]

Cullen continued lyrium temporarily Cullen: The end seemed far away then. (Laughs ruefully.) In some ways, the following year felt longer.

Cullen quit lyrium Cullen: All too well. I’ve already answered a half-dozen questions about my personal life.

Cullen: The reason we’re here is because we made a difference. That’s worth enduring the political small talk. [back to 1]

Dialogue options:

Flirt: I’ll save you.

[Back to 1]

8 - Flirt: I’ll save you. PC: But you’re still glad I’m here to rescue you. Cullen: (Laughs.) Very much so. [back to 1]

5 - General: How is your family? PC: Is there any news from Ferelden? How is your family?

Choice dependent dialogue:

Cullen continued lyrium [9]

Cullen quit lyrium [10]

9 - Cullen continued lyrium Cullen: I’m sure they’re fine. I would be informed if it were otherwise.

Dialogue options:

General: You should visit them. [11]

General: I’m sorry. [12]

General: I miss the people back home. [15]

11 - General: You should visit them. PC: You should visit them when this is over. You’ve more than earned some time for yourself. Cullen: What would I say to them? I’m no longer the brother they remember. Why hurt them more? [back to 1]

12 - General: I’m sorry. PC: If you don’t want to talk about it… I shouldn’t have pried. Cullen: What would I say to them? I’m no longer the brother they remember. Why hurt them more? [back to 1]

10 - Cullen quit lyrium Cullen: My sister Mia keeps me informed. As I understand, she’s training my nephew to best me at chess.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m glad they’re well. [13]

General: Would you lose that game? [14]

General: I miss the people back home. [15]

13 - General: I’m glad they’re well. PC: All good news, then? Cullen: Not all. But most of it is, and that’s good enough.

Romanced Cullen: Mia is eager to see you again. When there’s time, of course. [back to 1]

14 - General: Would you lose that game? PC: I sense a threat to my commander’s chess superiority. I’m sure the defeat will be distressing. Cullen: I… he’s four! You could at least pretend I’d throw the game. PC: (Laughs.) [back to 1]

15 - General: I miss the people back home. PC: Sometimes I miss the people I knew before Haven. We get so busy… it’s easy for time to slip by.

Dalish PC, Clan Lavellan did not survive Cullen: The loss of Clan Lavellan… I’m sorry you carry that still. I fear at best the pain only fades. But you know that. [back to 1]

Cullen continued lyrium Cullen: If what we do means they don’t see the worst, they don’t see the cost… that’s all that matters. [back to 1]

Cullen quit lyrium Cullen: Perhaps. I’m not sure I regret that. I’ve still some time before these years balance those best forgotten. [back to 1]

6 - General: We’ll talk later. PC: I should go. Cullen: Inquisitor.

[b0ther]

i can still see it all (in my head)

lisa has always liked a challenge. this time, though, she just wants you to be easy.

pairing : lisa minci x reader (masculine pronouns. amab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : one-shot tags : royalty-sorta!au. age-gap age-gap age-gap (older man and younger woman), reader is a general and a divorcee AND a dad (he also has a big dick),description of the length of reader's hair, porn with feelings, semi-public sex, cowgirl position, mating press, breeding kink, lisa gets manhandled by reader, there is an emotional scene at the end word count : 2208

author's note : title from 'daylight' by taylor swift. in my head, lisa just looks so good with an older guy,,, also this is a chance for you all to be the dilf you've always aspired to be. also note that i don't know at all about military hierarchies 💀 i really do be writing whatever

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

Lisa doesn’t know what to think of the new scout assigned to the library.

After bringing home a glistening victory for the crown, there was a couple of months where he was not seen until he once again reemerged in a ball celebrating the Crown Prince’s 17th birthday. Lisa did not see him fresh off battle, but she heard stories. Of his shagged face, hair overgrown to his chest.

She did, however, see him on the ball. And he was full of glory: dukes and duchesses scramble to part the sea of royalty for a man to whom they owe their lavish life to. His hair was trimmed at the appropriate length—just above his ears—and his face clean shaven.

Lisa finds it odd, though, how after that day, he lounges around her library—a gift from his King, she heard, to be dismissed of all duties relating to waging wars and protecting the city. It would be inane for the King to award him with less than whatever he wanted after the almost-decade-long battle cost him his handsome face and his obnoxious wife. It’s good for the King that he didn’t want much. Just for a quiet life of defending the palace instead of the city.

Lisa personally thinks that he should have asked for more; tranquillity does not erase the profound scar down across his left eye, after all. Even if it added to his allure. Even if Lisa spends her day daydreaming about running her fingers along its length.

So, instead of being the ravenous, cruel war general that he is rumoured to be on the battlefield, he sits with his leg crossed on top of a knee and reads thick volumes of exhausting diction and verities between the shelves of her library,

The first few weeks, Lisa greets him with a warm smile as she would do to everyone. She does not indulge herself in calling him sugary-sweet pet names—he was far older, after all, and way above her ranks. Dear lord, what would he think of her?—and instead, calls him General, not even daring to mutter the sound of his surname following it.

He is helpful to her. With his swords clanking against the stony floor, he would walk after her and grab the mountaining pile of books from her arms. Wordless. He then would place them on the higher shelves, ones that she could not possibly reach without the help of some wooden steps. He looks like he has the filing of the books and reports memorised like the back of his own hand—Lisa thought that she knows this library most, but he looks like he melts right into the scenery, like he is a part of the breathing, living room.

Once, he came into the library just in time to catch her wobbling body from crashing against the cold ground. Her careless feet had misstepped, and Lisa is certain that if he wasn’t there to catch her falling body, she would have died. And maybe it was her racing heart, or maybe it was the way his wide palms grabbed her skin, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh and almost circling her waist, but on that day, Lisa decided that she must have him.

She knows what to call him, now, when it’s just the two of them. A series of provoking “General” or “Baby”—even his given name, when she gets bold enough or if the night gets dark enough.

She would ride his cock, never really getting used to his size, as she pressed her palms against his stomach, mouth hanging open, drool spilling free, and her knees bruising from the friction against the stone underneath them. He’d call her all sorts of pretty names, cooing at how good his little librarian is milking his dick dry, thumb grazing over her perky nipples, jugs glistening with sweat.

Just as he would shoot his thick seeds up her womb, filling her hot cunt with strings of white juice, he would push himself to press their lips against each other, cursing at god at how perfect her pussy is for him.

She knows that he likes being on top—folding her in half with her scarred knees pressed against her tits. She has seen the way he licks his lower lips, watching the way sweat sticks her champagne hair to her face and chest, drilling into her tight hole with his thick length. He loves the way she rolls her eyes back whenever he hits her spot just right—loves feeling her warm walls wrapping around his dick, seeing her clenched cunt stuffed with his cream.

But he is too nice. He knows she chases that feeling of control whenever she pushes him back against the chair—or the floor—and rolls her hips. He lets her take control at times, just sitting there with his thumb rubbing against her sensitive bud, watching her body shudder at every wave of orgasm she gets just by him toying her clit. This isn’t what he is used to, she supposes, but Lisa can tell that he also enjoys the view of seeing her tits bouncing at every squeeze of his cock.

Lisa thinks that she would make a fine wife.

She isn’t rowdy like his once-wife. She is quiet, sweet, charming. Her opinions are never uttered with such strength like the Marchioness, and she imagines that he would prefer keeping her close and showing her off.

But she is just a scholar, nothing more. She cannot give him the title that he must want, or the child that he already has.

The boy is a few years younger than the Crown Prince, and Lisa can see him in his son’s eyes. They are civil with each other, just as a father and a child of royalty would be. There are habits and quirks that she observes in his son when she tutors him—little patterns that are never engraved to someone like her.

If the Marchioness had been patient and not divorced the General, he would not have been holding Lisa the way he does now. And no matter how many times Lisa has ended the night with his cum up in her cunt, there are just some skeletons that she cannot resolve.

Lisa often dreams about his tongue on her nipples. Her hard, hard nipples.

Just the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing, tugging, sucking on her teats. His low growl, his hungry looks. Just the thought of him catching her in his mouth is enough to make her cum most times. She starves for him, for his touch.

And she knows that he loves reaching over to knead on her tits, fascinated with her nipples as his cock is buried deep inside of her.

In his chamber, he would let her sit herself down his length, with her back pressed against his chest. He would rest his chin on her shoulder, and she would bury her nose amongst his greying hair, moaning at how he tugs at her nipples, rolling them between his calloused and thick fingers. His other hand would begin with caressing her other tit before making his way down to her belly, pressing down against her flesh. Then continuously trailing down, pressing his palm flat against her sopping pussy lips.

The friction of his palm against her clit would make her jolt. Lisa would claw at his big arms, silently begging for him to let her ride him, but he was too strong. She can’t fight his strength when he is holding her down.

“I’m getting older, Baby,” he mutters in her ear—his voice almost enough to send Lisa yipping through another orgasm. He sighs, pressing his nose and lips against her neck. “I’m tired. Be a good girl for me and sit still.”

And Lisa whimpers. Because she wants to be a good girl for him. She wants to be the best.

Lisa doesn’t mind getting dicked down in her library. As long as it was his cock puncturing her little hole.

Though she complained that the library is the least comfortable place where they can fuck, it seems that he is interested in the notion of pounding mercilessly into her tiny cunt against her work desk, watching their cum mix and spill against the expensive mahogany.

“I’m gonna fuck a kid into you, Lisa,” he mutters, pressing his nails down her hips to the point where it hurts. Lisa whines, hands busy trying to grab the edge of her desk as her core pulsates even more with his threat. “Fill you up— shit,” he breathes as she clenches around his cock. He lifts her ass up, positioning her so that it’s easier to fuck into her hole. “Stuff you up with my hot cum. You’d like that won’t you?”

“Yes,” Lisa gasps in between her moans, her cries, her heaves. “Yesyesyes, please—”

Her cunt burns at his words, squeezing as he drags his length out, then piercing down her walls yet again. She can feel every girth, every veins of his cock. She can feel him opening her up, urging her to accommodate every single inch of him.

“Oh, Baby,” he grabs one of her arms, forcing her off her hands and against his chest. “You’re making me feel so good,” his voice trails the same time his hand goes to take hold of one of her tits.

Her throat dries. She lays her head on his shoulder as he kneads her ample jug, blabbering on and on about how she loves him and his big, big cock.

Lisa thinks that she would make a fine mother.

She is smart, and her mother used to say that being smart is the one quality that is most important in a woman when she bears a child.

When she gets dressed, Lisa would more often than not hum before her mirror, rubbing her belly as though one of these days, he would really impregnate her with his seeds. She dreams of swinging, little baby feet; she dreams of propping her child on her chest with their chin against her shoulder. She would teach them how to read and write and count, and how to chart the countless stars in the night sky.

But her reverie would dissolve like smoke from her hot morning coffee, and she is dragged back into the world where in the eyes of everyone else, they are nothing more than colleagues.

He isn’t mean. Lisa understands absolutely where he is coming from.

Even when he kisses her knuckles, lays with his head on her stomach, twirls her strands of hair around his fingers—she understands him. She absolutely does.

If she were in his position—in his mid 40s, tired from a long battle, is the father of a son he can barely see anymore—she would also feel his amount of shame in indulging in a younger woman. It’s not her—it is absolutely him. She senses that he wants to break free of his self-imposed chain and peck her cheeks in the royal garden instead of the strange, unseen nook of the castles, but an unseen rope tugs him back over and over again to his shame any moment he deems adequate to leave.

“Lisa,” he mutters one night when they are laying together, his head on her lap. She has a book on one hand as the other gently caresses his strands.

Lisa sets the book down, “Hmm?”

He has been staring at the ceiling, and Lisa waits until he feels as if he is ready to crank his neck. Their eyes meet—she marvels silently at the way moonlight reflects on his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

She titters, pretending to be dumb. “For what?”

He smiles at her laughter, his fingers escaping each other on his stomach before reaching out to find hers. He kisses the back of her hand. “I don’t know.”

Lisa shakes her head and feels the heat returning to her chest, throat, and ears. “You’re being silly again, General.”

“I am,” he sighs, shutting his eyes. “I’m getting old, aren’t I?”

“So am I.”

Lisa sits straight and looks down at him, fingers finding their way in between the spaces of his. She brings his hand closer to her lips to kiss. “You’re overthinking.”

“I am.” He pensively agrees, as though embarrassed.

“Everything is fine,” she tries soothing him with her head tilted. “Or am I not enough?” She gently teases.

“No,” he chuckles almost immediately. “You’re perfectly enough. You are more than enough. I am content with us, just like this.”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa nods. “Then why worry about something that is not even real?”

“I don’t know,” he turns to bury his face on her stomach, nuzzling his nose against her flesh. “Sorry.”

Lisa breathes in hard—a gust of wind from the open window suddenly reveals the perfect atmosphere for her to start crying. But she doesn’t. “It’s fine.”

He remains quiet with their hands tangled with each other. Lisa bites her lips, her other hand reaching to stroke his hair. She glances outside the window—the moon shines bright that night.

She will get through this. She breathes in deeply yet again, bending to press her lips to the side of his head. She has to.

[impossibleprincess35]

Asphodel | ch 56

[Excerpt:]

“If Republic forces come to your aid, it will break treaties that are nearly 100 years old and we will effectively be drawn into yet another war,” Obi-Wan countered sternly as he considered the matter.

Audaciously, Bo-Katan shrugged and smirked at him as she remarked, just like a Mandalorian, “What’s one more?”

Obi-Wan turned from the holo-table and took a deep breath, steadying the frustration that was growing within him as she made light of conflict as though it was a game and not a matter of life and death.

Anakin remarked in a snide tone of voice, “Well, we’re not finished with our first one yet. Asking us to commit to another conflict? It’s not up to us. We can’t make that call.”

Across the holo-table’s glowing screens, Ahsoka made a face and both Obi-Wan and Anakin witnessed it. It was snide and disapproving, and it was clear that the padawan they both knew was long gone; and in her place was a young adult, riddled with resentment and distrust.

The tension was building and by the way Bo-Katan shifted her weight between her feet nervously, Obi-Wan could tell that the situation was reaching a boiling point. He looked at her and calmly stated, “Anakin is right. I am one of twelve voices and I do not have the authority to speak for the Jedi Council, but I will advise them of this development, and it will be up to them to pursue the Republic for their approval.”

Bo-Katan watched as Obi-Wan turned to walk away, and desperation took over as she exclaimed, “There’s no time!”

He turned to stare at her, silent and stoic, and she wondered what her sister could have ever seen in him.

“Maul’s influence on Mandalore is destroying my people!” Bo shouted. “He tried to murder their ruler, my sister! You were there! You witnessed it! I watched you carry her body from the palace, panicking that you would lose her! Doesn’t she mean anything to you?!”

There had been no formal reports submitted to the Jedi Council as Obi-Wan’s mission to save Satine in Sundari had been a willful dereliction of duty, and as such, Anakin and Ahsoka only knew what he had disclosed to them. In careful phrases and minimal words, Obi-Wan had explained the situation as briefly as possible, and he had purposefully left out the horror of what had explicitly happened in the Grand Salon.

It was bad enough that Obi-Wan and Satine had survived it, but to relive it in conversation was something he could not take.

In their minds, both Anakin and Ahsoka pictured their master and grandmaster in a state they had never witnessed. Instead of calm and level-headed, perhaps cheeky and sarcastic, they could only imagine him in a hysterical state, frantic and hopeless, with the Duchess of Mandalore dying in his grasp, and they were silenced by the gravity of such an image.

But in the training room, in light of Bo-Katan’s outburst, Obi-Wan would not give her the satisfaction of a vengeful response as he looked at her and said calmly, “She did, and still does, but I cannot allow my feelings to cloud my judgment. The Council will decide what our course of action will be.”

Throwing her helmet to the ground in anger, Bo-Katan raged, “And how did the Council decide when my sister’s life was on the line? Did the Council decide right then, or did you have to take matters into your own hands?!”

Ahsoka reached out to touch Bo-Katan’s forearm as a means to anchor her in reality with rational thought.

Bo rejected her attempt, shaking off her grasp, and as she stared at Obi-Wan, she yelled in a state of hopelessness, “If you hesitate, you will be letting an outsider ruin all that my sister worked for!”

Obi-Wan wanted to judge her harshly, but she was desperate for help, and he surmised that she was incapable of asking for it with diplomacy and humility. He inhaled deeply, so deeply that his ribcage stung from the usual aches and pains that accompanied battle, and he said slowly, “The way you speak of your sister, one might forget that you put her in the position of seeking help from an outsider like me in the first place.”

--

Chapter 56 is up.