#and ended up getting inquisition on a whim

[wolfxe]

i made an impulse purchase and now im going to be very sleep deprived for at least the next week

[clairdelunelove]

sunset boulevard

itadori yuuji x f!reader

genre: fluff! (blind date! one shot)

warnings: none, 2.6k words

synopsis: you don't do blind dates; too much risk with little reward. but your friends assure you that this time it'll be different. and when the epitome of 'the boy next door' starts talking to you at the amusement park– you think they're right.

a.n. haha, not my brainrot about itadori being so bad that I had to write this. and nu, I've never been on a blind date before but imma write about it :3

-

-

-

you created it on a whim. encouraged by your friends’ prodding and teasing about your love life- or lack thereof- so your fingers clicked on the newly downloaded app. meant to be just for fun. a silly topic for your girls’ night. “just for the plot,” you told them with a knowing shake of your head when they all impishly giggled. a generic dating app where most people on there had an ulterior motive and would do anything to achieve it. but you weren’t willing to accept that, promising yourself to keep boundaries. the limit that you’re willing to bargain on is a public date. emphasis on the ‘public’ part because your friends are already scheming. whispers about a netflix and chill type of date. but you sign into the app, choosing a couple pictures of yourself that are adequate enough to catch some attention, and write a creative bio. it’s impressionable. modest. wholesome. definitely not the route that your friends desired for you to engage in. “done,” you state matter-of-factly. a beat of silence passes. the realization that you’re actually agreeing to this sets in. much to your chagrin, your friends end up snatching your phone from your hands and adding their own spin to your profile. editing your pictures to the ones that they have on their phones. “we’ll set you up with someone good for you,” your friend reassures with a good-natured pat on your back. “real good,” your other friend slyly drawls and bursts out laughing with the others. you don’t know whether your stomach twists from nervousness or anticipation from their ruse. 

-

ten minutes until your date is deemed late. twisting your wrist, you glance at your watch again just to confirm your suspicion and huff. you’d arrived half an hour earlier than the time your friends texted you. your motto was that it was better to be incredibly early than late, especially since you had no idea what your date looked like. but the fear of being deserted causes you to shift on your feet as you sidestep out of the way for a group of teenagers to pass. wouldn’t be the first time you’d get stood up. glancing upward, you double-check that you’re standing underneath the carnival’s main attraction– the ferris wheel. its bright, illuminated colors jump out at you, almost mockingly, as if to highlight the gloomy frown plastered on your face.

“waiting for someone too?”

the voice snaps you out of your daze and you’re left peering up at the person that seemingly appeared out of thin air. he’s attractive– the kind of appeal that leaves you breathless from his inquisitive eyes and easy grin. a slender hand is carded in his hair as he patiently awaits for your response.

“yeah,” you croak before hastily clearing your throat, “I am.”

it shocks you that he’s even conversing with you. clad in a yellow hoodie and denim jeans, he’s the epitome of 'the boy next door.' could probably win the role for starring in the newest coming of age movie that’s bound to gain revenue just from his visage. he’s adorned in vibrant colors that contrast your pastel-toned clothes and you self-consciously pull at your shirt. 

“wanna check out that game right there? promise it’ll be quick!” 

from the corner of your eye, you recognize that he’s angled towards you as the question leaves his lips. gosh, is he talking to you? almost like he’s inviting you to spend some time with him in the meantime.

dumbfounded, your mouth drops open as you point to yourself, “me? you’re talking to me?” 

“of course!” he replies enthusiastically like it’s second nature for him to hang out with strangers, “might as well take advantage of the time, right?” 

he adjusts his backpack by slinging the dark strap over his shoulder and turns to walk in the direction of the nearby carnival booths that have games lined up for customers. you note that he attempts to blend in with the crowd but his upbeat attitude is too perceivable. has a glimmer in his eyes that attracts the ogling of bystanders. luminescent signs light up the path to the section dedicated to the midway. wooden signs promising ‘fun’ and ‘a winner every time’ written in bubbly font. it’s enticing. it’s fun– an experience that you’ve lacked recently. and before you can argue that you’re waiting for someone, the blushy haired male ushers you to follow with a wave of his hand. 

“c’mon!” 

you’re lightly jogging after him, short strides compared to his long ones, and manage to catch up to him with an exasperated breath. he’s fit; not the type where his physique screams ‘gym rat’ but rather that he’s the epitome of good health.

catching sight of you beside him, he gleefully chuckles, “knew you’d be up for some fun! I’m–”

he breaks off to gawk at a booth that grabs his attention and instantly treads through the crowd to line up for it. the game has the typical objective of knocking over a pyramid of milk bottles. you stare at it expectantly, knowing that this midway game is usually fixed; bottles stacked on the bottom are filled with sand or lead that weigh in a couple extra pounds and the given ball is unusually light. he’s buzzing with excitement, though. hastily patting his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and whips out enough money to buy a turn. 

“I’m itadori yuuji, by the way,” he finally continues his belated introduction while pushing the money into the midway worker’s hands. 

“yuuji,” you repeat and savor the name on your lips, “these games are usually rigged, ya know.” 

"are they?”

he doesn’t seem bothered by the carnival’s dirty tactic, however. merely chirps a word of gratitude when the worker tosses him the singular ball and deftly explains the rules of the game. the customary one chance to knock over all three milk bottles and you knowingly press your lips together. 

yet, your eyes comically widen as he begins to strip his hoodie off and hands it to you, “can you hold this for a second? thanks!” 

straight away, the movement coaxes onlookers to turn their attention to the both of you. steely gazes focused on the cuts of muscle on yuuji’s arm as he rolled his shoulder to stretch. you’re no exception. in fact, you take back what you earlier assumed about his physique. baffled by how his baggy clothes managed to cover his impressive build, you hurriedly turn your chin to hide the warmth that spreads across your cheeks and neatly tuck his hoodie under your arm. his physique is essentially out of a magazine— broad, beefy shoulders that taper off into a small waist.

your lips move before you can stop them. “you got this!” 

an expression of shock paints his face due to your encouragement before he flashes you a lopsided grin; boyish before he concentrates. there’s a gleam in his eyes as he retracts his arm like he’s winding up to pitch in a baseball game. then, he lobs— no, hurls— it straight at the tower of milk bottles. the ball whizzes through the air and the targets come crashing down from the sheer power of his throw. it’s startling. dazed, you’re left wondering if the stranger you just met is secretly superhuman. 

“we have a winner!” the midway worker roars to the enthusiastic crowd.

“yes!” 

yuuji pumps his fist in the air as the worker and a couple people in the crowd come to congratulate him. he’s all smiles now. there’s a big, toothy grin plastered on his face when the worker hands him his prize; a large teddy bear that has a red bow on its chest and the sheer size of it has him grasping onto it with both hands. 

“look!” he exclaims and gently shakes the stuffed toy in his grasp, “do you like it?” 

you can’t help but giggle at the exhilaration behind his gaze, “it’s cute!”

he’s clearly pleased by your reaction, swiping a finger over his nose before bursting out into laughter and your heart fills. his habits are so endearing and wholesome that it’s heartwarming. abruptly, the teddy bear is pushed into your chest and yuuji's knuckles brush against yours from the maneuver. the stuffed bear’s big, beady eyes stare at you as yuuji deliberately turns to shrug on his hoodie again. 

“it’s for you!” 

his confession is a little muffled as he extends his arms through his sleeves and it occurs to you that he’s whirled away from you for a reason. a dust of pink washes over his cheeks and he runs a sheepish hand through his tousled hair. 

“I won it for you,” he reiterates, almost bashful, “I mean, you did come and spend some time with me when you were probably busy but–” 

it’s a stark contrast from the confident and affable guise that he’s shown you. a peek into his personality that you’ve yet to appreciate. he kicks at a stray pebble on the pavement while his hands are shoved into his pockets. the way his blushy hair is a similar shade to the tips of his ears causes you to inwardly melt.

your thoughts go haywire but a demure smile stretches across your glossy lips, “thank you, yuuji. I love it.” 

he clears his throat, murmurs a comment about how it’s not a huge deal, and faces you. yuuji blinks— once, twice, and his gaze softens. then, he utters a compliment that goes straight to your heart. 

“you look cute like that.” 

it’s straightforward, candid but you still ask, “like what?”

“happy.” 

you let him tug you to the next midway booth. 

-

“aw, come on!” 

yuuji’s droning is followed by the teasing nudge he gives you. the touch draws out a yelp from you and the sound immediately reduces him into a laughing fit. for now, the both of you agreed to do a little sightseeing before the amusement park closed for the day. it was already evening; the sky was a cascade of apricot and vermilion. a beautiful vision to match the day. spending time with yuuji was like being in a trance. time seemed to slip quicker when he was with you. 

naturally, your fingers reach to pinch his cheek due to his antics. 

“ow!” he cries and childishly rubs at the inflicted area, “not my fault I’m good at every game here.” 

although the blushy haired male is telling the truth, you can’t help but pout at his words because yes– he was basically a professional at every game in the midway. you’ve tried your hand at a couple booths. yuuji insisted on paying for anything you touched and fondly watched. however, he was soon tagged in whenever you were unsuccessful and he managed to turn the game’s odds around. evident in the countless plushies that’s tucked in his strong arms. all of them were for you, of course. he just plucked them out of your grasp when you briefly mentioned how your arms were getting tired from carrying them around. 

“you’re in denial!” he singsongs and grins wider when he hears you huff in exasperation. 

“I am not in denial!” 

“you are!” 

“well, you’ve spent a lot on these games,” you pause to lower your voice, “and on me. you haven’t even known me for that long.” 

unsurprisingly, he recognizes the concern laced on your words and stops walking. his brows furrowed. the teasing grin is wiped from his face and is replaced with a tender gaze. forever wise and dependable. he leans down, hooks a finger under your chin, and murmurs his reasoning. 

“honestly,” his voice trails off in remembrance, “I barely have any time to do fun stuff like this so I'm taking advantage of it.” 

the sentiment is supposed to be understandable, one that many individuals’ share in life. yet, you can’t help but assume that his words weigh heavier than the average person’s. it stabs at your heart to know that such a kind soul is no stranger to heartache.

“besides,” he interrupts your train of thought and gleefully grins, “I get to win a pretty girl some prizes. sounds like a win to me.”  

with an affectionate compliment, yuuji cleverly brings back the light-hearted mood from earlier. he’s skilled at this– redirecting your focus through an optimistic point of view. one of his traits that you’re smitten with. fondly patting your head, he takes a step back and rises to his full height. he’s still gauging your expression, though. his eyes are like liquid honey from this proximity and you’re in awe. truth be told, you might never meet another person quite like him.

you can’t help but poke fun, “are you saying that you usually pick up girls at the amusement park, yuuji?” 

“me? nah,” then he murmurs, a tinge of guilt coating his words, “I was actually supposed to go on a blind date here.”

the remark leaves his lips in a single, rushed breath like it’s been bothering him the entire time. he’s quiet. his arms tighten around the stuffed animals in his grasp and he tilts his head in contemplation. he’s internally battling himself. why did he have to open his mouth? is he ruining this and digging his own grave? frown deepening, he vaguely wonders if he should’ve brought it up in the first place. perhaps you would think of him differently and then– 

from this angle you get a glimpse of his throat bobbing before he quickly adds, “but I liked this better.” 

what the blushy haired male isn’t expecting, though, is how your face breaks into astonishment, “wait. a blind date? I’m supposed to be on a blind date too!” 

you couldn’t believe your luck.

“you’re (y/n)?” 

willingly nodding at his inquiry, yuuji sputters in disbelief and shifts the prizes under one arm so he can put a hand on your shoulder, “this is crazy! like, crazy in a good way but still– crazy! who would’ve thought, right?” 

long arms blindly reaching for you, he wraps you into a hug that has your face squished into the hard expanse of his chest. he’s laughing wildly– a genuine sound that brings an emotion that knocks the wind out of you because he’s truly thrilled that you are his blind date. your fingers grip the back of his hoodie, allowing yourself to be engulfed in his warmth. 

“and here I was dreading the blind date that kugisaki and fushiguro set up for me,” he thoughtlessly mumbles in your hair while retelling his own version of how his friends forced encouraged him to go.

pulling away, albeit unhurriedly, the both of you exchanged phone numbers and promises of keeping in touch were whispered into the evening air. 

“you can text me whenever you want,” yuuji tucks his phone back into his pocket while sheepishly grinning, “even if you don’t have a reason to.” 

cheekily texting him a greeting, for the fun of it, you grin when his phone dings at the notification, “I will.” 

puffs of warm air swirl and intermingle into one. his eyes twinkled in the streetlights’ rays of light. it was romantic– sickeningly so that you wondered if you were dreaming.

-

yuuji ended up lending you his hoodie, chuckling when the bright, oversized garment swaddled you. he even walked you back to your place and waited in the chill until he heard the door’s lock click into place. there’s a bounce in your step when you waltz into your bedroom. 

with all the stuffed animals neatly lined up on your bed, you instantly snap a picture of you and yuuji’s winnings. your fingers swiftly dropped the photo in your friends’ group chat before sending it to yuuji. and your lips curl into a smile when his text bubbles immediately appear on the screen. memorabilia of your first– successful– blind date with someone that was too good to be true. 

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Knowing he was being manipulated the whole time doesn’t actually stop Tommy from wanting his abuser back. He isn’t entirely sure how that works. His head knows better, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest. 

Life is weird. Philza gives him compliments here and there, and Tommy holds his breath, waiting for the but. Or Techno gives him armor, and Tommy is left wondering when he’s supposed to dig a pit. Having things makes him uneasy, even if Techno is gung-ho about preparations and Philza encourages him to put things he likes in their nest. 

Philza’s nest. Tommy doesn’t like sleeping in it, even if he has to. The ripped-up pillows and banners make it a step up from the previous pile of hay he slept on, but the Philza sharing it makes it awkward even if his wings are soft and warm. Really, Tommy doesn’t even like looking at the roost Philza made. He doesn’t know what to think about it. The blatant flaunting of the same avian impulses that ensnared him is unnerving. A near stranger’s invasively familial instincts are the only reason he escaped his abuser, even when his own were the reason he was trapped. Or, so they tell him. Techno and Philza are weirdly careful with him, trying to help by explaining what was wrong with what was done to him. 

And yet they’re trying to manipulate him in the exact same way. 

Tommy holds still as Philza preens him, wings flared out in the proper position. He’s silent, knowing the relaxing tranquility settling over him is only meant to subdue him. But Tommy is scared, not knowing yet what they’ll do to him if he resists. There haven’t been punishments yet. That’s almost worse, somehow; with his abuser he knew what to expect, but the dread of the other shoe dropping is unbearable. 

Tommy hates grooming sessions. His abuser would always murmur horrible things, but all Tommy could do was contentedly agree or risk revoking the wonderful feeling of soft hands in his feathers. Molded into a demure child, pliant and docile to his every whim. 

And now Philza does the exact same thing, and Tommy relents, terrified of what happens if he says no. He clings to the tension in his shoulders. It’s the only silent recalcitrance he can muster, even if the resistance crumbles with the tender touches smoothing out his wings. Tommy’s shoulders raise about his ears as Philza pauses, tensely waiting for his feathers to be yanked. But all Philza does is coo. Then again, and again, insistent and almost inquisitive. 

Hesitantly, Tommy coos back, trailing up at the end like a question. The responding coo is warm as Philza resumes, or does until he doesn’t get a response from Tommy, training him to respond, the pair echoing coos back at one another. 

They vibrate in his chest, easing the anxiety in his chest that he needs to protect himself. With each one Philza coaxes out of his throat, Tommy falls a little deeper into a blissful trance no matter how revolted he should be at the obvious exploitation of his instincts. But just for a moment Tommy feels loved, and he’s loath to break the illusion. 

Philza tousles his hair as he rises. Tommy remains sitting, feeling small and ashamed as the false affection drains. He wants to hate Philza for acting just like his abuser, but Tommy is mostly furious with himself for falling for the trick even when he knows it’s one. 

A large dark wing wraps around his back, a hand guiding him up and pressing him to Philza. Tommy buries his head in the avian’s side so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Philza told him exactly how his need for love was twisted and exploited, and even knowing what that manipulation looks like still Tommy finds his heart in the talons of another and can’t bear to wrench it away. A warm coo rumbles in Philza’s throat. Tommy dutifully echoes it. He hates this. 

“Tommy, can I have your feathers?” Tommy feels nauseous, but he knows what the wrong answer is, and he doesn’t want to ruin everything. So he silently hands them to Philza, and almost manages a ghost of the broad beam the avian breaks into. Tommy dutifully returns the embrace he’s given, but inside his stomach is plummeting, because all he can think about is how his abuser used this against him. He knows he’s falling into the exact same trap but can’t seem to stop it. 

Tommy stares at the black crow feather Philza gives him. He looks up to the man's adoring expression. Tommy’s russet feathers fan out behind Philza’s ear. It makes happiness bubble up in Tommy’s stomach, so he drops his gaze. In avian culture, it’s supposed to be a promise that Philza will support him as surely as his own wings. Yeah right. 

The feather snaps in Tommy’s hands. “Actually, I’m done with you manipulating me.” 

Next>

[goldberrg]

death at the end

summery : — What are you dreaming about? — Billy asks the question again and, despite the rather calm tone, there is not even a shadow of a smile on his face.

Billy has nightmares. Hargrove wakes up every night in a cold sweat and can't come to his senses and get rid of the feeling that everything happened through his fault. Sometimes it seemed to him that if he did not sleep at all, he would not be disturbed by this presence of the ghosts of his own clouded mind, but all in vain. These futile attempts only lead to pain.

Billy is afraid to fall asleep. Hargrove is afraid that he will not be able to wake up simply because he will not find his way back to his world. A world where the sun still shines, a world where night invariably replaces day, and a world where everyone looks at him as a leper. A world where there is no hiding from the curious gazes of ordinary people who have not been touched by the rotten hand of the Torturer of Reason. Billy doesn't want to go outside, doesn't want to catch those stares. He just wants to rewind time, change reality, not to make this fatal mistake, not to obey. Come to think of it, could he?

Billy can no longer distinguish whether he is asleep or awake. The boundaries of both worlds have long been erased for Hargrove's gray eyes, like a storm – clouded sky, and all he can do is hope that he will be saved one day. They will stretch out a warm palm, pull you out of this abyss of delusions. And he will stop seeing a faceless girl suffering in the dark every night.

Of course, Billy is too proud, too swaggering. Hargrove will never admit to anyone that he screams into his pillow late at night when everyone is asleep. He screams, tearing his throat, knocking all the nonsense out of himself. He screams the way wanderers scream, forever lost in the red forest, reeking of blood through and through – Billy always hears the smell of blood now. He never admits how much it hurts him every second.

Billy doesn't like you. He considers you too bitchy, too narcissistic and harsh. He had never met a girl who, instead of giving herself completely into his strong arms, would look at him like that. And you are watching. With such disgust, as if you hate him all your life, even though you transferred to this school only this year. Your look is saturated with apple cider, loose earth and contempt. That's how people look at nasty garbage rats or drunks on the side of the road. This is how you look at your too frivolous classmate, at the dogs without a muzzle and at Billy Hargrove. When he sees. Or he doesn't see it. But you really don't care: you didn't notice his attacks of endless aggression, and he thought he was going crazy under the gaze of those honey eyes. Billy would have ripped them out if he could and shoved them down your throat. Not because of his selfish whim, but because it is necessary, so necessary, otherwise it is impossible to do. And he would watch you choke on your own eyes, your own organs and blood. Look what you've done! It seem to you that Billy is an ordinary narcissistic graduate from a parallel class. You have seen them often. You often caught him looking at you, full of misunderstanding and hatred, as if you were the source of all his problems. And he, in turn, tried not to think about the new girl who was so firmly stuck in his head.

— God, just disappear! — honestly, Billy was no longer enough for anything, so he just grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you aside, continuing to walk in his direction. More precisely, he would have gone if your tenacious little hand hadn't grabbed his elbow.

— Have you completely lost the coast, Hargrove? Blind? — and looks the way only you look. With reproach, disgust and a little bit of hatred. And Billy pays attention to the deep shadows under your eyes — So go to the doctor, you fucking idiot!

— You're not sleeping, are you? — Hargrove suddenly asks, instantly changing his face. He looks at you inquisitively, not at all hoping for the answer he needs. Yoi look at him with an uncomprehending look, take two steps back and freeze, as if you want to say something, but can't. You shook your head sharply and, turning sharply on low heels, rushes headlong down the corridor, almost bumping into passers-by.

You have nightmares. You lie on the bed every night, trying to forget the dream that comes to you again and again every time you forget. One has only to close your eyes for a second, as the same person without a face appears before your eyes, burning in your own memories. The brown-eyed one reaches out to him every time, tries to find out everything and help, but every time nothing happens except pain. This pain is so real, it's like you aren't even sleeping. You don't want to sleep at all, so you showed all the ingenuity you were capable of: you left the house for the night, poured liters of coffee into yourself, listened to the radio loudly and drank coffee again, but everything was in vain. It was worth blinking, as the head obediently lay down on the seemingly incredibly soft pillow, and then – such a familiar pain, in which a heart-rending scream drowns.

You open the toilet stall door on the run, sit on the toilet lid and cover your sweating face with palms.

— Damn, damn, damn! — you whisper fervently, choking on rapidly approaching tears, and then knocks on the wall with force, immediately breaking off. A worthless fool, unable to solve a worthless problem in your worthless life.

You cover your mouth with hands, trying not to break even more, and slowly slides down the wall, inhaling convulsively.

Billy was uneasy after that meeting in the school hallway, and he decided that it would be better to go home and forget himself with a bottle of good whiskey. Just like that, drop everything and have a strong drink, maybe it will take a ride, and his inner demons will decide not to bother Hargrove today. He could not even dream that they would leave forever, because he knew that they would come back anyway. They always come back, even if they haven't been heard from for a couple of days. The gray-eyed man jumps into the driver's seat of his car and rummages in the glove compartment for a long time in search of a lighter, holding a cigar in his mouth. For a second, his attention is attracted by a tired voice that came from somewhere to the left. Turning his head, Billy came across you cursing who were standing next to your car and, apparently, could not find the keys in a small purse. You laid out an already crumpled notebook on the hood, two wine-colored lipsticks, and God knows what else, but there was no bunch of keys anywhere.

— Are you that out of the world that you can't find the damn keys? — Billy asks loudly, which makes you jump on the spot and drop everything on the ground.

— Hargrove, first you bump into me, and now you here with your stupid... — you stop for a second to catch your breath and bites your lower lip. — ..Stupid questions, and now you want to drive me to the grave, you son of a bitch?

— Let's say so. But you didn't answer this... "stupid" question. — showing quotes with one hand, and at the same time taking a drag, the guy said, not at all jokingly staring straight into your unexpectedly reddened eyes. — Are you not sleeping?

— I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. — getting up from your knees, you mint with a haughty grin and still find the cherished bundle. Before you get into the car, Hargrove is surprised to notice a keychain in the form of a teddy bear. And after all, he didn't even have time to make a caustic comment, and only for the reason that you pressed the gas pedal to the floor before Billy had time to formulate an idea.

— Fucking bitch.

In between bouts of uncontrolled aggression, the blue-eyed man tried to catch you for a conversation, but only this devil is terribly elusive. Every time he noticed your dark shirt in the crowd, but you were immediately lost in dozens of the same. Or the situation developed in a more unpleasant way: you simply hung out with three of your friends, which made the incredibly proud Hargrove literally lose his temper. It got to the point that he left a strong dent on the door of his own locker, and almost went to the infirmary, and then to the director. Finally, the brown-haired man still managed to catch you near the cafeteria, and he unceremoniously grabbed your elbow, dragging you to the side. You stared at him expectantly, and in your head there was clearly a war between two demons (Billy thinks there is simply no angel in you) for the right to splash your incredibly hot coffee on incredibly hot – that's what you are ashamed of – Hargrove.

— Billy, god damn fucking, Hargrove! Either you tell me right now why the fuck you've been following me around the school for God knows how long, or this boiling water will end up on your fucker! — you puff, shaking the cup significantly. The guy is not afraid at all, but still decides to take a half step back

— Damn it, listen, you stupid bitch! – Hargrove's tone is no kinder. And you perfectly see every swollen wreath, every burst vessel, and yes, you see those damn bruises under his eyes. You have the same ones myself. — I've been having nightmares for a fucking eternity, and if you say now that you have a wonderful dream, then you, bitch, will fall asleep forever, I guarantee it to you.

— I have wonderful dreams. — you deliberately smile nastily and, without hesitating for a second, in full view of all the assembled onlookers, pour the contents of the cup on the guy and with an imperturbable expression on his face, turn abruptly and walk away, turning into the depths of the corridor. The ringing bell echoes in his exhausted mind, and Billy has no choice but to lean his forehead against the cold wall in impotence. But when will it end?

The party on the occasion of obtaining a driver's license at the Martells' house was originally supposed to be something harmless: just sitting by the fireplace with punch. Until, instead of the invited nine people, thirty came, and until someone from this lucky thirty thought of bringing a few cases of beer. And the next thing you saw Tommy, he was dancing on the table. To be honest, you weren't going to come at all, but you hoped in vain that a strong drink would help to relax and finally forget. So, glass by glass, you said goodbye to common sense and, throwing aside all prejudices, climbed into the bathroom on the second floor, sitting down with a barely started bottle of beer at the bottom of the bathroom and throwing your legs on a shelf so conveniently located. Well, damn him. It's so nice when the gaze is constantly unfocused, one dim light bulb turns into four, and the monotonously dripping water from the tap lulls so well.

Billy Hargrove was a special guest on the show, from which all the attention, as usual, went to the brown-haired man. No sleepless nights will take away his sweet triumph from him, and that's why today the guy decided to have a good time. So much so that wandering through the dark corridors together with another passion for one night in search of a bedroom, he accidentally stumbled against the half-closed bathroom door with his back and safely fell to the floor, hitting either his hip or his knee. The tile is so cool, refreshing. Wandering eyes stumble upon a sneaker sticking out over his head, and then he notices you sprawled in the bathroom.

— What a coincidence. — Hargrove screams in his usual manner, waving away the stunned you who remained standing in the doorway. However, you left after a couple of seconds, being incredibly offended by such behavior, as it turned out, the love of his life.

— Hargrove, don't be like that, you bastard... — you wanted to say something else, but suddenly I was distracted by a fly flying by. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Unlike Billy, you drank only three glasses of punch, and washed it down with warm beer, but you were slow to think. Not at all because of the degree of alcohol, but because of the fatigue that suddenly rolled over. The effect of the coffee you have drunk a couple of hours ago had long passed, and now you wanted to fall asleep sweetly, but as soon as you closed your eyes, everything would repeat itself. How long have you been awake? A day, two? Over the past week, you have slept a maximum of six hours, and then suffering every time the body's need got the better of the you.

The blue-eyed one does not listen to you, and just jumps into your bathroom, sticking his long legs overboard. He looks into his eyes, which are red with fatigue – or maybe tears – and he again feels this surge of uncontrollable energy, which he receives only when he is next to you.

— What are you dreaming about? — Billy asks the question again and, despite the rather calm tone, there is not even a shadow of a smile on his face.

As expected, you are silent, scrolling the neck of the bottle with your fingers. You don't even look at Hargrove, but just stare somewhere over his shoulder, incoherently biting your lower lip. Realizing that he would not achieve anything from this half-wit, and it is unlikely that his insanely strange theory was justified at all. Well, he never knew, you are not sleeping. Maybe you were doing your homework late, or fucking someone. There can be a lot of reasons, and hardly one of them is a creature from the other side, tormenting the minds of hundreds of citizens. Exhaling wearily, the guy pulled himself up to get out of the bathroom and go looking for a girl with an impressive body.

— In the beginning... in the beginning it's very cold. — you suddenly gives out hoarsely. There was an insulting indifference in your voice to everything, which made Billy even doubt what was happening. But after looking at you more closely, the blue-eyed man realizes that you are just on the verge of hysteria. Thin shoulders shudder every now and then, trying to drop the bottle from his hands, but only you are not up to that now. He's still biting his already tortured lips, and it seems to Hargrove that at any moment, such a bitchy bitch as you will sob, and a tear will slash across his cheek. You would crouch in a corner, whine, hug your shoulders and squeeze your knees under you, as Billy often did. But none of this is happening. You were still sitting in the same position, twirling the bottle in your hands and looking around the room. You gather your thoughts.

— And then?

— And then... then it hurts. — you shrug, taking a large sip. The warming liquid settles inside with a pleasant warmth, and yoh fidget, because yoir side has already begun to go numb. You look expectantly, as if waiting for a frank confession in return, and Billy gives in.

— After that – death.

— Yeah.. and death at the end. — you calmly agree and shrug again, looking straight into Hargrove's gray eyes. — I... Billy, I'm so tired. To death.

And the blonde-haired man barely touches the shoulder of yours with the tip of his finger, lowering his gaze somewhere down.

— Me too, sweetheart.

[ell-vellan]

I've been replaying Inquisition to prepare for Veilguard and god, the way I feel actually homesick walking around Skyhold, knowing it's for the last time. Knowing what we know now about what becomes of this place.

Our safe haven after Haven. Beautiful and peaceful and safe. Perched above the whole world, looking down on both Orlais and Ferelden. Our own castle, our pennants and throne, a room of our own with the fireplace and desk and balconies to see miles of the Frostbacks. It was our refuge! Skyhold kept us safe and protected us from the storm when we were at our lowest. We came to it broken and abandoned, we rebuilt it and made it ours. We played pranks with Sera and hung out in the library with Dorian and planted herbs in the garden and watched Cullen lose Wicked Grace (and his clothes) in the grand hall. Some of us fell in love in that castle, that tavern named after us, in that loft above the stables. We found little hidden nooks and secret shortcuts and collected bottles of alcohol from all over Thedas, for some reason. We inspired hope, we raised an army, we played political games, we saved the world.

Solas painted our deeds in his rotunda, and all the while we never knew it was his sanctum, first.

So much warmth and beauty after the fear, disorganization, defeat. No more hasty tents pitched in snow and mud at Haven, you have your own room.

Walking around, I've been taking in the way the light shines through the trees with leaves red and gold, surviving by some trick of magic at the top of a mountain. Dust motes floating on shafts of light, through stained glass, your banners flapping gently in the wind. It feels like you can breathe easy for the first time since you wake up disoriented and in chains with a glowing left hand.

And knowing what happens to Skyhold after... left empty with only a few quiet caretakers and scholars, then conquered, at last, by Regret.

Reclaimed not by us or our closest allies, but by a plucky band of mercenaries led by a man we met in passing and promoted at a whim in our role as Inquisitor, and probably forgot about soon after. A minor character, an insignificant War Table mission quest line in a game full of world-altering decisions. But it was the little guys, the regular people - your quartermaster, your arcanist, your lead scout - who risked their lives one more time to return to a place they also once called home.

In the end, Sutherland's company that you had a hand in creating, were the ones trusted and called on to reclaim Skyhold for us. Because it was their home for a time, too. The place where they found refuge from the storm, found each other, banded together. A little company of adventurers, of friends and heroes who loved each other just like the heroes we had once been before. Not famous, not yet, maybe not ever. Just regular people trying to do good. Harding and a few characters we barely knew, even though we played a pivotal role in their lives.

We were their boss, that's all, and when we left they were the ones who came back to Skyhold when the Inquisitor couldn't. It wasn't only our home - it was a symbol. Skyhold meant something to them, too.

Walking around Skyhold knowing it will never be ours again after this is over, and we won't ever get to return? Maybe I'm just being sentimental, but..it hurts 🥺

Anyway, I love Skyhold and you should read the short story Callback from Tevinter Nights, if you haven't already.

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

chapter twelve - sleepover

chapter eleven | chapter thirteen

Sumire, why are you in Konoha?" I asked, my head resting on her lap as she played with my hair.

Her fingers froze for a moment, then slowly resumed, smoothing out my strands. She traced my cheek softly before giving it a playful pinch. "Why else?" she replied, "I'm here for you."

"That's not what I meant," I said as I raised my head to meet her gaze, "How are you physically here? How did you leave the Hidden Rivers Village? Why did you leave?"

"My, that was a lot of questions, little one," she chuckled softly, "Let's make this more fun—how about a game? A question for a question, and I promise I'll tell you everything."

Her playful smile marked a thin veil disguising unreadable memories that have hardened with time.

"Okay, I'll ask first," Sumire said point-blank, her tone suddenly sombre.

Her gaze locked onto mine, unwavering, as the playful air between us dissolved, "Two years ago after mother's death, where did you go?"

The silence between us was palpable, as each tick of the clock heightened the dense tension between us.

Telling her the truth will be too much for her to handle. Telling her the truth will only cause her to worry. Telling her the truth could shatter the delicate, fragile peace that we have now.

"I was doing missions in Kirigakure, I was still technically a chunin of the Hidden Mist Village so one of my old teachers took me back," I said, lying through my teeth.

I stare down at my palms, swallowing the truth of my lie. I'm disgusting. These hands and blood of mine have killed—relentlessly, brutally, and violently. Shinobi, civilians, criminals. But at the end of the day, they were all human. Each life, a soul lost because of me. I've been reaping lives on the orders of others as if life itself had no value, no meaning.

And on a selfish whim, I don't want Sumire to see me as a cold-hearted murderer. I don't want her to look at me and see a monster where her little sister used to be—the same sister who once dreamed of simpler times in our cramped attic, making up stories of a brighter future.

"So that Lady who was there the day mom died was a teacher of yours?" she asked.

"Hey! It's my turn to ask a question," I remarked, "So how did you, a person whose legs don't work, end up in Konoha, many, many miles away from the Hidden Rivers Village?"

"Ah," Sumire said faintly, her fingers stilling in my hair, "It wasn't easy, but when you're determined, the distance becomes irrelevant."

"Sumire, I'm being serious. Stop avoiding my question," I said, my tone firm as I sat up to face her directly.

She sighed, the glint in her eyes fading. "You're too inquisitive for your own good, little one. After mother's death, father wasn't very kind to me... In a way, we lost both you and mother when you left." She glanced away, placing her hands in her lap.

"He started drinking more... It was a nightmare," she continued, her voice trembling. "He turned the house upside down, searching for more money to drink away. And one day, he decided that I was too much of a burden for him to look after. After all, I'm disabled and unable to work. I bring nothing to the family but trouble," she sniffled, wiping away her tears.

"It wasn't long before he kicked me out of the house. Thankfully, some of the clan members took me in but I just couldn't bring myself to accept their help," she continued, her voice heavy with pain.

"I just couldn't bring myself to burden them... it would have been far too cruel. So, I just left, but I didn't get very far because well I'm disabled," she laughed dryly, "A shinobi found me and helped me get away from father, from the clan and he let me stay here... he said that I'll be safe here and did some sort of jutsu and said that traces of chakra energy will be hidden from other shinobi."

My eyes start to sting as I listen to her story. The pain and the loneliness she endured flooded over me like a wave.

"I'm so sorry Sumire," I cried, "I didn't know that leaving you caused you this much pain. I'm so so sorry."

"It's not your fault, little one. You had a duty to do," Sumire said, her voice softening. "I'm sure at some point, father would have kicked me out anyway. He never truly cared for either of us."

The tears wash over me, and I can't help but pull Sumire into a hug. Her frame is fragile against mine, and I hold her tightly, hoping to offer some comfort.

But wait.

I pull back slightly, my confusion and panic evident in my expression as my thoughts scramble to piece together the details of her story. Something doesn't add up. Why would a shinobi house a fugitive and conceal her trace?

"What do you mean that a shinobi helped you escape? A shinobi led you to this dingy shack and said that you could stay here?" I asked.

"Little one, you're terrible at this game—it's my turn to ask a question," Sumire chuckled, wiping away the last of her tears. "So, why did you cut your hair so short?"

I stared at her, frustration mounting. "Here you are, worrying about my hair when a so-called 'shinobi' takes you to this cabin, installs you in here erasing all traces of your chakra. Sumire, who is this man?"

"Nuh uh, answer me first."

"Fine, when I was doing my missions, my long hair stuck out like a sore thumb. It's just so bright and red. It didn't take much for enemy shinobi to recognise me as an Uzumaki. So, I cut it," I said, "Tell me, who is this man?"

"I... I can't seem to remember his name; he said that if I followed him, I'd meet up with you. So, without thinking twice I went with him."

"You're telling me you followed some random stranger, who for Kami knows why, knew who I am, and promised you could meet me?" I snapped, my voice rising in disbelief. The last threads of my composure had finally given way.

Sumire's eyes widened slightly, her fingers fidgeting nervously in her lap. "I didn't think it was dangerous," she whispered. "I was desperate to see you again."

The panic inside me bubbled over. "But that's just it, Sumire. You don't know who this man is or what his intentions are! What if he's already watching us? What if we've been played this whole time? What if he's related to someone I've killed in a mission and has installed you here to take vengeance by hurting you?" I stood up, pacing, my mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario, "If we try to leave Konoha, Kami knows if he will follow us..."

"I didn't think it would be like that," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just... I thought I was doing the right thing by coming here. I didn't mean to put you in danger, Y/N, I swear."

She lowered her head, guilt etching itself into every line of her expression. "I'm sorry... I just wanted us to be together again, away from all the danger."

I stopped pacing across the room as my thoughts tried to piece together who this 'shinobi' was.

"Sumire... what did this person look like?"

"I couldn't really see what he looked like, he wore a mask and he had a really deep voice."

Sumire's words sent a chill down my spine. "A mask and a deep voice?" I echoed, my mind flashing to the masked man who followed me from The Byakuya to the Hidden Rivers Village.

"Yeah... He always kept his face hidden. He said it was for my protection," Sumire continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Actually... I don't think he ever told me his name either, but he seemed to know everything about me—and about you."

Shit, shit, shit. It must be him. It must be the same masked man who burned down the village. The same masked man who wants me to spy on Kushina.

My heart pounded in my chest like a drum as my breathing became erratic and shallow as the realisation sank in. Shit, the masked man had gotten to Sumire long before he hunted me down. He must have been watching us from the shadows for who knows how long, always lurking just out of sight. He must have been. My chest tightened as every worst-case scenario ran through my mind.

"Y/N are you okay? Is there somet-"

"This man, we can't trust him," I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. Without waiting for a response, I rushed to the shelves, pulling open each drawer and shelf. My hands trembled as they fumbled through the scattered paper and clutter, desperately searching for an empty scroll.

"Y/N... are you in trouble?"

My mind doesn't register the question Sumire asked as it hangs in the air. I tear open the empty scroll with trembling hands, biting down on my finger until blood wells up. The urgency gnawed at me. I need to do something, anything to save Sumire.

"Y/N... what are you doing?" Sumire's voice wavers behind me, but my focus stays locked. I can't afford to lose control now as I draw out a jutsu on the scroll before inscribing the last few symbols.

"Sumire, this scroll contains a sealing jutsu," I explained, my voice trembling slightly as I rolled up the scroll. "It's a specific type of sealing jutsu... when you open the scroll, it will release my chakra, a signal that only I can feel. If that same masked man or someone who works with him shows up here, open the scroll and I'll know and I'll come to you."

Sumire's eyes widened as she watched me, her hands holding the scroll tensely.

"But... why do I need something like this?"

I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze, "I don't know... I'm sorry. But we can't trust this masked man. We need to be prepared."

After handing her the scroll, I say my goodbye to her before making my way out of the dingy cabin and through the densely packed forest.

He must have anticipated my departure from The Byakuya long before I even made my decision. Had he been watching from the shadows all this time, pulling the strings without me knowing? It was the only explanation. It must be.

My thoughts were soon interrupted by a grappling vine emerging from the earth as it wrapped around my leg, stopping me in my tracks as I stumbled to gain my balance.

Kami, why does the floor love me so much?

"Long time no see Kunoichi Thirteen!" a voice chirped from above me.

"Oh, it's you, Zetsu," I said, anxiety coiling around my chest.

"Leader-sama wants updates on the Nine tails Jinchuriki," Zetsu said, as his tree branch wrapped around my leg tightened.

"What about her?"

"Cmon Princess, you know better than to play dumb with me."

"I have nothing to report about Kushina Uzumaki," I said, my voice unwavering as I refused to give up information about Kushina sensei.

Zetsu's grip on my leg loosens as he steps towards me, kunai in hand. His eyes glint with and a sinister smirk painted across his face.

"Dear Y/N, you're making me angry," Zetsu chuckles. Without skipping a beat, he drives a kunai through my arm, dragging the sharp blade down my arm. The metal rips through my deltoid muscle, relentlessly tearing away at my flesh as he twists the kunai over and over again.

I bite down hard on my tongue, trying to stifle the scream that threatens to leave my throat. If I scream now, the shinobi guarding the village gates will hear and will undoubtedly find out about Sumire and then my identity.

Besides, I can't give Zetsu the satisfaction of hearing my pain.

"Don't cross me again. The next time we meet I expect a full report on Kushina Uzumaki," Zetsu spat, as he pulled the kunai out of my arm. "Bye bye Y/N!" he cheered before seeping back into the earth.

My knees give in to the pain, causing me to collapse to the floor. I clutch my bleeding arm, teeth clenched tightly to suppress any sound. My mind races with fear and dread—how long will it be before Zetsu finds me again and demands answers about Kushina Sensei? What if he goes after Sumire?

My grip on my arm tightens as I try to stop the bleeding. Blood Manipulation: Blood bind. The blood which poured out slowly came to a halt as a thick mesh formed over the wound. The intense pain started to subside, replaced by a thick clot over the surface of my skin. The barrier of blood continued to pulse faintly, a constant reminder that this was my life now.

The thought of betraying Kushina sensei to the masked man at the cost of Sumire's life. Both their lives hung in the balance, suspended by a thread of my own making. The pressure of the situation, the looming threat of Zetsu and the masked man and the constant fear for both of their safety created a churning storm within me.

But for now, all I can do is play the role of the orphaned Y/N Uzumaki who has been taken in by the Leaf Village. I pick myself up from the ground, and after having scouted my surroundings, I make my way to the village towards Rin's house.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Making my way through the village at this hour has become clockwork. I slip through quiet side streets that are hardly occupied by civilians, much less by shinobi. The narrow alleys and corners provide me with respite from the ever-present watchful eye of any shinobi tailing me. Each step is methodical, each turn a familiar path in my nightly routine. The dim streetlamps cast long shadows, and the occasional rustle of the night breeze is the only sound that accompanies my careful movements.

I stand in front of Rin's door, contemplating knocking on her door as uncertainty shakes through me. Rin somehow convinced me that a sleepover is just what I need to assimilate into Konoha better and to make new friends. But my run-in with Zetsu shook me to my core, reminding me of why I am even here in the first place.

My very existence in Konoha is temporary, with Kushina sensei's life hung in the balance as well as the hope of a future with Sumire.

There's no point in turning back now, Rin is a shinobi I'm sure she has picked up on my chakra outside her door.

I lift my hand and knock gently, each tap quiet but deliberate. Moments later, I hear a hurried shuffle of footsteps approaching from within. The door creaks open, and Rin's face emerges, her eyes widening as they meet mine.

"You made it!" she cheered as she held my hands, ushering me inside her home, "For a second, I thought you wouldn't come."

She takes me into her quaint living room, decorated with soft, warm fairy lights which twinkled on the walls. Knitted quilts and blankets were scattered across the floor in front of the TV, as a movie mindlessly played. Rin gestured me to sit down as she handed me a warm cup of green tea.

"Y/N, I want you to meet my friend Kurenai," Rin said, introducing me to her friend with long dark hair that falls straight down her back and deep crimson eyes.

"It's nice to meet you Y/N! Rin's said so much about you," she chirped as Kurenai took a seat next to me.

"Thank you for letting me join your sleepover," I chuckled. "I've never really done this before. I'm not too sure what I'm meant to do. Was I supposed to bring something?" I said nervously before darting my gaze between the two girls.

"You've never been to a sleepover?!" Rin shouted in shock, "The pressure is high Kurenai, we need to make her first a good one!"

"You're gonna love it Y/N!," Kurenai chuckled, "Except, we're missing just one other person."

"I wonder if she'll ever show, you never know with Anko," Rin sighed as the two girls settled next to me on the couch as we sat and watched the movie that played on the TV.

"Were you guys in the same class back in the Academy?" I asked inquisitively.

"Yeah, all of us in our class are pretty close," Rin answered, "There's a whole bunch of us. Even though we're on separate teams we still meet up from time to time."

"What about you? Are you close with anyone from the Academy?" Kurenai asked as her soft crimson eyes glanced towards me.

"I wasn't in the Academy for long, but I get on well with my teammates," I replied, tucking my hair behind my ear reminiscing the times I've spent with my teammates so far. Kushina... Shisui... and Akira hold a dear place in my heart. It's something I never planned to happen in all my time here.

"Kurenai, did you know Y/N is on the same team as Shisui?" Rin exclaimed

"Really?! Tell me, what's it like being on the same team as Shisui of the body flicker?"

"I mean he's a really formidable shinobi, I even knew of him when I was in Kirigakure and he cares a lot for our team, always looking out for us and sensei."

"Yeah, we knew he's strong, but what I mean is that don't you find his friendly nature charming? That and the fact that he's a skilled shinobi." Kurenai continued, her tone light and teasing.

"W-what do you mean?" I stuttered as a blush painted my cheeks.

Kurenai's teasing smile widened as she noticed my reaction. "Oh, nothing much! But I think that reaction says a lot, Y/N"

"You should have seen Y/N and Shisui at the picnic a few days ago," Rin chuckled, adding fuel to the fire. "They were stealing glances, whispering to each other, and giggling nonstop!"

"W-what?!" I stammer. "No, we aren't like that! I mean he's a huge dork and he can be funny at times... But there's no way we are like that, right?!"

I remembered how he always had a way of making me feel seen and heard, even when I tried to hide what was really bothering me. The way he'd look at me with those warm, understanding eyes, like he could see right through the facade I put up. And the way he smiled—Kami, that smile—so genuine, so infectious. It made the weight of the world seem a little lighter, even if just for a moment.

My cheeks grew warmer as I recalled the way he'd ruffle my hair or flick my forehead when I was lost in thought, his touch lingering longer than it needed to. How sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, his gaze would linger on me, soft and thoughtful, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in my head.

Wait, was I... was I really thinking about him like this?

Rin's laughter pulled me out of my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing I had been silent for too long. "See? She's already off in delulu land thinking about him," she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

"N-no, I was just... I mean, we're just teammates!" I tried to protest, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.

Kurenai leaned in, her smile gentle now. "It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend with us. It's obvious you care about him, maybe more than just as a teammate."

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. Could they be right? I'd always admired Shisui as a shinobi, as a friend, but was it more than that? Did I... like him?

A small, tentative smile tugged at my lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was something there. Something that went beyond the battlefield, beyond our roles as shinobi. And as terrifying as that thought was, it was also strangely comforting. Because if there was anyone who could make me feel this way, who could make me believe in something more, it would be him.

"We're only playing with you Y/N," Kurenai reassured, "Well, it's good to see you settling in we..."

"Bitches, today we become women!" a voice screams, interrupting Kurenai. The sound of the front door being kicked open echoed through Rin's house as a kunoichi dressed in a mesh scanty top and shorts walked in.

"Anko, you know you could have just rung the bell, and I would have opened the door for you," Rin sighed as she welcomed Anko in.

"You know I like to make a flashy entrance Rin," Anko said as she made her way to the couch. She marked her territory on the couch, manspreading between me and Kurenai.

Anko's enthusiastic approach caught me off guard. "You must be the gorgeous, new Uzumaki girl," she exclaimed, her hands gripping mine firmly. In one swift motion, she pulled me closer and tilted my chin up so I had no choice but to meet her gaze. "Are you single by chance? And into women?"

If I wasn't as red as my hair before, I certainly was now. I quickly pulled my hands away from her grip, hiding my face between my palms, my brain short-circuiting from her unexpected comment.

"Anko don't assault her! Besides she's younger than us!" Kurenai sighed as she stood between me and Anko.

"Sorry no I'm not into women," I whispered, as words returned to my mind, "And yes I am single." [Author note: justice for the gays!]

"Better luck next time Anko," Rin laughed, as Anko's mood deflated as she slouched back onto the couch. "Anyways what's up with the 'Bitches we become women' comment?"

"Oh! Here," Anko said, jumping up from the couch as she pulled out a DVD from her pocket, "This movie will teach us everything we need to know about being women. About using our bodies to get what we want!"

"You're gonna make us watch porn?!" Kurenai asked horrified as she watched Anko dance around the living room.

"No... technically no," Anko argued as she watched Kurenai and Rin roll their eyes, "Hear me out! Imagine this... we are sent out on an espionage mission and our only weapon on our hands are our best ass'n'tits."

"Our what?" I questioned.

"Our assets," Anko coughed out. "Cmon, it'll be fun and maybe you two could take some notes. Maybe you'll be left inspired... Rin might even grow some balls to ask out Kakashi! And you Kurenai, maybe you'll stop running away from Asuma each time he comes to talk to you," Anko argued, calling out each of her friends before her gaze settled on me.

"And you, Y/N I'm sure that this movie will teach you just how to seduce... guys help me out here, who is she into?" Anko muttered as she looked at Kurenai and Rin.

"Shisui." The pair of them replied without sparing a second.

"What, oh Kami help me," I whispered as I realised I was playing a losing game.

"That's it. Our very own Y/N will be the one to seduce Shisui Uchiha!" Anko exclaimed as a light bulb went off in her mind, "And I can sit back and watch as you make me proud!"

"So should we just kick Anko out right now?" Kurenai asked deadpanned as all three of us held up our hands in agreement.

"You guys! You're so mean! What if this is a dream of mine?"

"You should dream bigger, Anko," I giggled, as we watched Anko collapse on the couch giving us all the silent treatment.

"It's okay she'll get over it soon," Kurenai reassured me as she took a seat next to me.

"Okay let's just watch a movie. I'll go put some rice in the cooker for us to eat," Rin said as she walked off into the kitchen.

"My movie?" Anko muttered, giving me and Kurenai a pair of shit-eating puppy dog eyes.

"No!" we said simultaneously, as Anko stuffed her head between pillows, refusing to make eye contact.

All four of us settled on the couch as we watched the movie. It wasn't long before soft snores filled the air as we watched Anko drool away on her pillow. Kurenai and Rin gently draped a blanket over her sleeping figure as I adjusted her pillows.

"I'm so happy you came today," Rin whispered to me, "I know that Konoha could never replace your family and your real home."

"We want you to one day call us your family," Kurenai added as they snuggled up to me.

My heart clenched. How could they, these people I barely knew, offer me something so precious when I am only here to betray their very trust.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Y/N has been providing for Sumire for years now, after their deadbeat father drank away his money. Not very slay of him. The masked man still has his monopoly over Y/N as the clock continues to tick, Y/N's time is slowly running out

But you guys this chapter was so fun to write! That little spark in Y/Ns head which burns for Shisui has spread like wildfire, no thanks to Kurenai, Rin and Anko. 

I love writing these 4 characters together (there is another chapter later where you will find yourself in the company of these three girls PS it might be my favourite chapter so far hehe) 

Also, I'm going away in a few days so I probably won't update until November-ish. I will be sat at the beach sipping away at cocktails, living life stress free until I come back (and realise I'm drowning in deadlines again). 

Loving you always, 

Suri

[browniejeane]

WIP Wednesday - Another Outtake of the Fic that won't quit.

Knocked TF out by a migraine today; which is hard to take care of when the littlest spawn is full of piss and vinegar. Here's another outtake in lieu of a bit of the latest chapter, which is still being written/edited.

Returning to where the Lavellan Clan had settled before sending her off to the Temple, where they had been massacred, only felt right. That she had done it alone and on a whim while actively being hunted down by red Templars and the Venatori and an evil abomination of a man who would be a god…probably not the best idea. But she couldn’t not come say goodbye. And she hadn’t meant to come alone. Originally, she had intended to ask Cullen to come with her, visions of being alone for the first time since their stolen first kiss on the battlements outside his office. But those thoughts dissipated like the melting snow in the courtyard after they’d had a spat. It had started with how she was taking unnecessary risks while out in the Emerald Graves to get the cooperation of the Dalish clan there-which she disagreed with and held firm that she was just doing what needed to be done-and ended with him basically kicking her out of his office saying that they obviously needed a few days apart and recommending that she head off to her next location. Keyanna had only taken his advice. She left for her next location. And yes, her friends would have come along, no questions asked. However, they were needed at Skyhold. Blackwell and Leliana were combing over the latest Warden finds; Varric and Hawke were catching up and plotting their next moves; Cassandra was keeping an eye on Cullen for her in regards to the lyrium addiction recovery; Bull and Dorian had made…plans; Solas was spending all his free time talking to Alexius about the time magic; Sera had stepped out for a few days to deal with Red Jenny business; Vivienne was researching her own spell and conferring with Josie about getting the harder to come by components from some of the nobles in Orlais, and had waved Keyanna away with an uninterested glance before the Inquisitor had even opened her mouth. Which was just as well. The only person she had wanted to come with her was Cullen. Heart aching, she waded into the river just upstream from the ruins of her clan. She didn’t feel strong enough to face the remains of her home just yet. Maybe she should have dragged somebody along with her. Varric would have dropped everything at the very least. But it was too late now, and she could only hope that they weren’t too mad at her when she returned. And maybe Cullen had been on to something and there was a kernel of truth in his argument with her trying too hard to get the Dalish to their cause. The clan in the Emerald Graves wasn’t going to replace the clan she lost, but if she could save one more elf from the Venatori, she was going to do whatever she had to do to ensure that they lived. She sank neck deep in the cold, fast moving water, closing her eyes as she ducked under the surface and stayed there for several moments, letting the current wash away her worries and pull her downstream just a touch before she planted her feet deep in the silt and pushed her head back up above the surface of the water. She wondered what everyone was doing back at home. Strange, how Skyhold was more of a home now than the Free Marches were these days. She’d grown up in these lands, but she felt like a stranger or an intruder in this valley that now held the last of her family. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head, wondering if she had made a mistake in coming out here. But she wanted to say goodbye to her family. She figured that even the leader of the Inquisition deserved that much. Scrubbing roughly at her scalp with some of the soap she had packed from Skyhold, she watched fluffy clouds drift lazily across the sky. Staring up at the sky, a thought filtered through her head, flitting about like a butterfly. If she hadn’t gone to the Temple, would she be dead with her family? Or would they have all been ignored

“Keyanna!” A familiar, worried voice rang out, tearing her from her thoughts. It carried a sharpness it didn’t normally have when he said her name. Her dark brows drew together as her head swiveled about, looking for Cullen. He burst through the underbrush not far from where she’d entered the water, her clothes folded just out of his sight behind a large rock. And to his left, her horse stamped its hooves and snorted, its barrel chest heaving as though it had been running alongside him from where she had tied it up. He was too far away for her to make out the details of his face, but she saw the moment he spotted her floating in the water because his whole body sagged in relief. Then, much to her surprise, he shrugged off his mantle, and armor before he waded into the river in just his linen shirt and breeches, face alternating between stormy and relieved until he stood before her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair as he clung to her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, clutching his sodden shirt and letting her eyes fall closed, even though she knew she was in for the scolding of her life.

“When I said for you to go, I didn’t mean alone,” Cullen began roughly, voice shaking as his hands slid over her wet skin and pulled her impossibly close. “I am so very angry with you,” he said, sounding not a bit angry in the least. He moved his head slightly and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss before he pulled back slightly and gave her a quick once over as if inspecting her for injuries, hands sliding up to her shoulders where he gripped her hard enough that she would be sporting two hand shaped bruises for a few days. His face slowly became nearly thunderous as he realized she was fine and, okay yes, there was the anger. Keyanna clung to the wet fabric around his hips and met his gaze stubbornly, full lips pursing as she fought not to shrink under his radiating anger and disappointment.

“I needed to see for myself,” she whispered into his chest, eyes on his throat because she couldn’t look him in the eye and watch as his rage morphed into pity. “And I didn’t intend to come out here by myself. Honest.” Her hands slid up to his chest, and she plucked at an invisible piece of lint with one hand as his calloused fingers squeezed her shoulders, then dropped down to her hips as he sighed and pressed his face into her head once more.

“If it hadn’t been for Cole, nobody would have known where you went,” he mumbled into her skin, scruff scraping along the sensitive tip of her ear. “Leliana scattered her scouts as soon as we realized nobody knew where you were and Josie was reaching out to all her nobles to see if anybody had seen you go by.” His throat clicked when he swallowed hard and pulled away slightly in order to try and catch her eye, but Keyanna kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on her fingers. “I was going out of my mind. For days.” Keyanna finally looked him in the eye and saw the exhaustion that sat on his shoulders like his mantle, dark circles set deep under his eyes and the new lines around his mouth that she wanted to wipe away with her fingers. “But Cole-” she began before being cut off by Cullen’s lips. Sighing into the kiss, her eyes slid closed and she swayed further into him, arms sliding up to wrap around his neck and her chest press close to his, wet linen plastering itself to her soaked skin as his hands wrapped around her back.

“He speaks in riddles and it took far to long to understand just what he meant,” he snarled before leaning back in and giving her a series of small pecks on her full lips that felt wonderfully kiss bruised. She pulled back, ready to ask more questions about just how he knew where to find her when Cullen pulled her in closer, holding her tighter. “I don’t want to talk about Cole,” he growled against her lips before diving back in, rougher this time.

[luckyjak]

Veilguard SPOILER REVIEW

spoilers under the cut!

the good:

I love the factions and their backgrounds! While I wish they were playable origins, I do feel like this was a good compromise, especially compared to Inquisition where your background is barely relevant

I played a Lord of Fortune Purple Rogue Rook, and my god, she was such a delightful character! BRIMMING with personality! I had the Erika Ishii voice, too, and it was so much fun.

Reviews were not joking about the jump in quality from Act 1 to Acts 2 and 3, were they?

generally I liked the combat, although I did miss having three companions with me at a time.

I like the companions! They are all very good-aligned, but I enjoyed them. Some stand out faves were Bellara (I thought she would be annoying, but instead she was a delight!), Emmrich, and Davrin.

Story felt sufficiently dragon age-y.

I got my happy solavellan ending, although I do have roughly 8 million questions now.

I liked that combat made it so that I could basically swap companions in and out on a whim and not really miss out on anything.

Some of the fights and quests are just *chef's kiss*.

I absolutely adored some of the NPCs that you meet and I was cheering them on in the Endgame.

I love my skeleton son Manfred, and I like that the game acknowledged he is my skeleton son.

the bad:

the AI in combat is STUPID I need my allies to AUTOMATICALLY HEAL ME IN BATTLE BIOWARE I AM BAD AT VIDEO GAMES

I need fucking Davrin to fucking tank automatically. He only tanks if I pause and tell him to and I can't be bothered, I got people to stab

THE ARMORS ARE MOSTLY ALL UGLY. I dressed like a crow for a lot of the game because otherwise I was running around in some of the ugliest shit you've ever seen.

pacing is all over the fucking place. It takes too long to get most of your companions. Ghilan'nain should have died sooner. Because of the Act 1 big decision happening when it did, I got scared to go to the Lighthouse, but going to the Lighthouse was how I got more quests, and so it just ended up making things a drag at times.

example: I did a ton of quests in Treviso, then got the the Lighthouse only to get a letter asking me to go back to Treviso...bitch I was *just* there could you have not asked for my help then???

having to do so much for each faction started to feel like busy work towards the end. I did fuck all for the Shadow Dragons because I just could not be bothered.

There was NO fancy dress up party option even though there were two quests that could have been fancy party options! Missed opportunity!!!

again issues with pacing: what the fuck was the Gloom Howler doing with those griffons for months while I fucked around Thedas? don't get me wrong I don't want a timed quest, but like...feels weird that she didn't blight those griffons considering how much time was in between the quests

I miss non-cutscene convos with my buddies!!! I want to know more about you my friends!!

too easy to get everyone's approval to max. honestly Neve should hate my rook but she doesn't just because I did her quest lol. Fenris would have stabbed me at the end of the game while Neve didn't.

I'm going to make a second post for the ending.

[frozenambiguity]

inardescere asked:

Don't tease him too much, even if it's out of character. He just happened to be out on a little stroll, so when he comes home, the young master walks up to Kaeya, who he assumes had just woken up, and holds out four calla lilies tied with a ribbon he had on hand. "For you." Even though it's not... the prettiest bouquet he could have given. Maybe he should have gotten him proper flowers from Flora, but when he saw them at the river, they reminded Diluc of him. Calming flowers. "Good morning."

There are moments when one can act outside the norm. Deviate from one's usual behavioral pattern. Not because it is out of character, but because one's emotions have evolved, to the point where giving into the whims of one's heart no longer invokes resistance, but a certain desirability. Such is human nature — ever-flowing, ever-changing.

Kaeya had noticed his absence. Perhaps a little later than usual, he will admit. If they had been sleeping in the same bed, as they had multiple times before, then maybe he would have sensed Diluc the moment he departed.

Maybe his hand would have patted the soft sheets, searching, longing for him. For his warmth. Maybe a soft voice, still husky from sleep, would have called his name. Begged him to stay a little bit longer. The world would not end if they were missing from it for just a few minutes. And if it did, Kaeya could not think of a better way to go. With him. Together.

A scene for another day.

For now, this — the knight had always been a light sleeper and an early riser. A combination that made sneaking out without being noticed a task more arduous for others than ever intended. He had paid the stillness and the silence no mind, rationalizing Diluc's absence instead.

Sometimes, they had affairs to tend to. Business that they did not inform each other about, for there was no need to talk about such dull, mundane things. Kaeya had merely focused on getting up, preparing for the day, and descending the staircase to reach the main entrance.

There, he sees him. Skin pale. Even paler than his usual porcelain palette. Hm. Hair that could not tamed yet was no less beautiful because of it. Shawl over his shoulders. Thin. Comfortable clothes still in place. Feet—

... ... ...

— Barefeet...? An inquisitive brow rises at the sight. Just as Kaeya is about to protest, to ask why he has returned home in such a state, Diluc speaks. Holds out a handmade bouquet. "For you."

Kaeya's expression softens. Lips part, though no words escape. A moment that freezes in time, before clarity at once starts radiating, slowly melting the ice away. And as it melts, so does he. One small step, then another. Hands reach for that simple bouquet, bringing it closer. Calla Lilies. A choice on purpose...?

Only a soft, brief laugh is heard, the expression on his features tender, innocent, as he leans closer to the flowers, inhaling their scent. Freshly picked. Did Diluc...?

It is hard to contain his blush and the way his lips wish to curl upward. So he does not.

«Thank you. I...» For someone so well-versed with words, they sure seem to fail Kaeya. He does not care. Gaze focuses on the flowers some more, before shily sneaking a glance at the redhead. As quick as it is stolen, as quick it returns to the lilies.

«They're lovely». A well-crafted pause, dedicated to putting the bouquet on top of the nearest surface. For a moment, the thought that he may have to ask Adelinde for a small vase surfaces. It is soon replaced by the wish to acquire his own. A task he may ask Diluc to assist him with. To match the aesthetic of their future home.

Now that the appreciation has been given for the endearing gesture...

«Unlike your current state». A small yet no less powerful jab. For good measure. Now that Kaeya's maternal instincts kick in, his protest may begin.

«What were you thinking, going outside barefoot like this? And this shawl!» Hands grasp the fabric, bringing it closer to the redhead's body. «It is simply too thin for a day like this! Need I remind you that it is still winter, Master Diluc...» Who is the one becoming exasperated now? A rare sight, but the knight has trouble ignoring how little this fool has thought of himself, going into the cold without a care in the world, just to...!

... Just to bring him flowers.

An unnecessarily prolonged, deep sigh. «Come. Let's get you warm. I don't want you to catch a cold. You're already awfully pale...» A hint of suspicion as he tilts his head and hands rest on Diluc's shoulders, guiding him. Worry. There are other ways to greet Kaeya that are just as special. Diluc knows that. But Kaeya would lie if he said he did not appreciate the gesture, so he gives the redhead's shoulders a gentle squeeze. Good morning to you, too.

[msommers]

3, 11, 24, 28, and 42 for riya, ellana and meredith!

MUAH!! a smooch directly on the nose tyty // random dnd questions

3) How would your PC describe themselves?

RIYA — depends on the day. some days you'll get the “bewitching and stunningly bold, with a lovely dash of dazzling intelligence beneath the charm. and, dare i say, the most alluring and sultry mage the grey wardens have ever had the pleasure of recruiting” ego response that's incredibly hammed up for humor, and recently we’ve unlocked the chance to receive a vibe of “i am the most pathetic Clairmont to ever walk Thedas. let the fucking demons take me next time.” because she's at her wit’s end, dramatic as all hell, and incapable of finding an in-between. 

ELLANA — i’ve come to the conclusion she’s one of those ridiculously humble girlies. it’s ridiculous because you can look at a list of all the insane deeds she’s done with the inquisition and then she’ll say shit like “oh, i’m just a woman doing her best to encourage peace and unity along my given path.” and it’s like ok. shut your mouth and acknowledge the miracle-worthy things you’ve accomplished while still maintaining your gentle spirit or else i’ll slap you.

MEREDITH — during the origins era she’s the type to try and stick to the obvious basics and then derail into soapboxing just a little bit. you know, like state her name and titles > list her efforts and accomplishments > define her current goals > start spiraling into “and i have been vilified by the loathsome usurpers attempting to take control of our kingdom. they slaughtered their way into stealing my birthright and then treat the people of Ferelden like cattle to slaughter or trade on a whim, and i wILL NOT ALLOW TH-” [insert 10 minute righteous rant that maybe only half the people in the room wanted]. did she describe any part of her personality? nope, but you can sure as hell figure it out through that 15 minute speech.

11) How does your PC show affection?

RIYA — as brashly as she approaches everything else tbh, girly has no shame. a lot of it is through blatant flirtation because that often makes people feel good from the attention and compliments, which is usually her goal through expressing affection. after that it’s mostly physical touch, though it’s in her favored displays rather than asking/adjusting to what others like (she’ll change if they talk to her about it but the default is w/e she vibes with), ie: kisses to cheeks, linking arms while walking or standing beside someone, leaning into/against them while sat together, taking their hands and squeezing them (idly giving them a kiss to the back of the hand if they’re fairly close), etc etc. tbh she’s open to just giving a full-on kiss if the person she’s giving affection to is on the same wavelength as her with it not having to be a romantic thing lmao. also!!! gift giving. that’s a pretty prominent one from the rich girl.

ELLANA — her bread and butter is affection through physical touch. every way it can be done?? it’s on her roster. unlike the slut wizard above, Ellana pays close attention to how people want to receive the touch and adjusts accordingly. she’s also big on acts of service to show people how she cares deeply enough for them that she notes things she can do for them to bring them happiness or simply lighten their workload. gift giving but it’s flowers 90% of the time, hope you enjoy floral scents. if she has the time then she likes to bake for people 🥰

MEREDITH — casual and gentle touches, ie: touching their cheek or elbow, briefly clasping hands, hand to their lower back to guide them somewhere, etc etc. likes to give personalized gifts that vary in size and effort, but always display that she's thinking about the person and cares (her go-tos are arranging for their favorite dish(es) to be served in a personal meal, and gifting them whatever they'd last mentioned wanting/needing), they usually come with a little parchment card that has a message written in her hand. with those she's closest to, giving hugs is a favorite. 

24) If your PC found a book that detailed their whole life, from birth to whatever death they’ll have, would they read it and why?

RIYA — she could probably get out a joke or two about reading the book if it had sections dedicated to her sexual endeavors or favorite social events she’s attended, but she'd be far too scared to actually open the thing. the thought of seeing what else she's gonna have to go through in the blight and then how she'll die is terrifying enough, but there's also the potential she reads that she dies like a week later and she'd simply rather not know that, thanks. she's going to fry the book with a lighting bolt now actually. 

ELLANA — torn on this one, but i'm leaning towards yes. she develops a bit of an irrational obsession with the idea that she'll be in historical accounts and spirals thinking about the details that they'll forget or likely erase, so i think she'd probably be drawn towards looking at anything that claims to detail her actions. i also think Ellana would have the opposite instinct of Riya and would want to know of her death so that she'd be aware of how much time she has left to do her work. 

MEREDITH — she'd overthink the pros and cons of it for so long that whatever friend she has nearby will just take the thing and toss it into the nearest fireplace to end her suffering lmao

28) When your PCs want comfort, what do they seek out?

it's the way you've made me realize that i haven't truly considered what Ellana OR Meredith find comfort in. i'm a failure of an oc mother. for them all i'm gonna rule out just going to partners because that's a given. 

RIYA — it was Bastian for several years due to how close they always were, and she still finds herself searching for him on first instinct tbh. she had a specific person for so long that she now defaults to seeking out people for comfort, usually the nearest friendly face(s) that she believes can bring her support or a well-needed distraction. if the platonic solutions fail, she's just gonna go find somebody to fuck and pray that works 🤷‍♀️

ELLANA — i’m thinking that she tries to search for the familiar, which in her case would be things related to the dalish. wrapping a blanket made by her mother around her shoulders, reciting proverbs from her keeper and hahren, baking/cooking herself something they'd always have during travels, etc etc. helps to reconnect her to the roots that she constantly worries she's being torn too far away from. she also seeks out the company of loved ones and friends, sometimes that's enough to help. 

MEREDITH — the ideal would be a nice fire to sit by with a cozy blanket, her mabari, and one of her embroidery projects. it all helps tremendously to calm her and the time spent on something that requires her attention to do properly aids in resetting her focus, the comfort found in relaxing her mind and body. i think comfort from others isn't something she instinctively searches for, but she's fortunately filled her circle with many folk who do the engaging for her and they provide comfort through their support and care. 

42) Who is your PC’s favorite NPC(s) and why?

RIYA — setting my own bias aside and not counting her family members bc that's too easy,,,,probably Lucin. she loves that he matches her energy without hesitation, shares and indulges her finding comfort in material things, and that he shows so much respect for boss lady Satine (smth smth reminds her of the men she's been surrounded by her whole life, feels familiar having that respects-women-wholeheartedly vibe around). top reason he's the fave tho comes from their conversation way back in session 4 where Lucin confirmed that he genuinely believes in the heroism of the wardens and that there's good to be found in them, because that's the exact kind of influence Riya needs in these early warden days as she's struggling with every aspect of her new life. she's losing it with each day that he's not there to influence her but that's probably fine, whatevs. (honorary mentions: leroux, babette. i miss you babes i'm incredibly biased in my love for you idgaf) 

ELLANA — banning inner circle options bc too easy: Briala! Ellana’s a little obsessed with her tbh. the woman is so brave and remarkably intelligent, and Ellana greatly appreciates how direct she can be amongst the droves of people who hide their intentions behind deception or an excessive amount of honeyed words. they also share the familiarity with bearing the weight of countless people relying on them and could have some helpful chats about it. it goes without saying that Ellana’s admiration and respect for Briala’s efforts to aiding the elves is boundless and she swears herself as an ally, promising her aid in whatever capacity is allowed.

MEREDITH — it’s been too long since i did a fully playthrough of the game but i think i recall Teagan being up there on her list of faves. he was outspoken against Loghain which immediately made him bestie material, he’s practical and brave, and dedicated his all to protecting redcliffe during its hour of need which is something that little miss “this kingdom is in my blood and i was born to protect it” admired greatly. there’s also smth to the idea that she’d probably already know him from attending landsmeets and other nobility gatherings, but clearly meeting in the middle of a civil war and growing blight did a lot more for their bonding lmao. i remember thinking that she’d likely turn to him rather than his brother as an aide after taking the throne, so i’ll just trust that old vibe check. maybe i’ll actually return to my replay soon but who knows (honorary mentions: nathaniel, sigrun. i did not expect how much she'd admire the two of them while replaying the dlc last month, they really snuck up on my ass)

[uldren-sov]

2, 6, 9 (hehe), 15, 24 for miss aresia mcsnipergun!!!

TYTYYY!! (no art....YET just gotta comm someone) also nice.

Ask meme here!

Aresia McSniperGun was the name she had before she adopted the name "Von Valancius"

2. What is their Origin? Who were they before they became a Rogue Trader?

So this will show off my lack of knowledge into the W40k lore and just how I didn't open up a page into the Calixian Sector. Also not looking more into Fortress worlds but, ignoring how all of that is subject to change....

She's a Crime Lord, shrewd enough to control a whole system - not that it's impressive now. She ruled from a space station the size of a small moon orbiting a star. Part of how she did it was turning the enemies and the Inquisition that was inflicted on her to usurp her competition. (Beyond just being the smarter and more ruthless kingpin.)

6. What is their Conviction? How adherent are they to it? Does it change at all over the course of the game?

Kind of mentioned here.

She's Iconoclast or otherwise neutral when the options arise. When she's up against the wall though, she'll opt to kiss babies if the other options are sing a hymm to the God-Emperor or dig into the guts of some refugees.

Though her faith slowly does get restored through the course of the game but, to some degree it can't even be called faith when most of the time she uses it as a tool. She's seen the practical uses of piety to the God-Emperor, or at least invoking his name and power, when it is against the powers of Chaos. That is simply a fact. Seeing that power (and finding some comfort in her broken faith with SOMEONE who may also be struggling with his faith cough cough) allows her to begin to restore that religious trauma.

9. What was their Darkest Hour? How does it affect them today?

Her darkest hour was that she was tortured.

I was initially between something like: a partner betrays her to her competition and that gang tortures her, or she makes a wrong step and she's tortured in jail, or a partner betrays her to put the Inquisition on her trail who torture her.

In the end I decided on the last one, where the Inquisition was in the sector hunting bigger (at the time) fish and she was an easy source of information that they could use on their path to their goal. They tortured her, got what they needed out of her, and left her to waste away. She has the scar with the symbol of the inquisition as a reminder/show of their involvement with her. (im thinking a burn scar from something hot :) )

The other two questions are under the cut!

15. How do they feel towards Theodora? Had they met before? Were they close?

She feels nothing towards Theodora besides maybe some latent respect after she's dead. Aresia made plans and backup plans assuming the gambit of becoming the Rogue Trader heir didn't pan out. She was giving up an entire network of smugglers, cold traders, mobsters, and pirates for a whole system after all - for the chance to be a Rogue Trader? She wouldn't gamble what she made on the whims of, essentially, a unicorn of the Imperium's power structure.

Theodora was a meal ticket and an opportunity. She had no loyalty to her beyond what would be needed to establish herself as the heir. No love, no affection, this was a business transaction and certainly someone who already knew how to run multiple planets and hundreds of people from experience would be better than some noble who learned how to negotiate through a book.

But once she is Rogue Trader she realizes though how much more difficult the job is and how much bigger this job really is. It's only at that point that she can respect how Theodora managed to pull it off for so long.

24. Do they place value in how their protectorate sees them? Does this sway their decisions at all?

She doesn't place much value in her image but she knows that there are politics in place that she cannot ignore when it comes to successfully running an empire of her own across the fringes of space. When she has to rely on her people, rather than the Imperium, when it comes to establishing the success of her territory, she has to play politics and has to concede to some people's power.

So while she doesn't care about how people see her, she understands that she cannot just go off the deep end if she wants to gain power and establish her territory. Besides, eventual war and taking over territory of others means that her house needs to be in order to take advantage of how other rogue traders or civilizations are exploitable.

[korereapers]

Title: Surprisingly

Rating: M, not very explicit but. EH.

Fandom: Dragon Age (Inquisition)

Pairing: adoribull, Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull

Tags: FLUFF, FLUFF, TRAUMA TALKING

AO3

For Dorian, surprises like this are usually a sight to behold.

The Maker be damned, he is a mage. He has been experimenting with the arcane since he was young, under many mentors that he always managed to surprise. Alexius is just the most recent one, the one that, against all odds, ended up making Dorian wonder if his search for something bigger, something new, was just another whim of his people. Just another person he thought safe enough, reduced to their most basic desires, unsafe for Dorian's ideas.

Dorian Pavus knows the other side of the coin of such surprises, of such amazement. It usually comes with bitter disappointment, a venom on the back of his tongue that reminds him of how damned he is. Proud, witty, but ultimately powerless, condemned to a life of never truly belonging, of trusting a little, but never too much.

He just takes what he thinks he can take. Trying not to want too much, too deeply.

He promised himself to never allow anyone to get this close, not only out of fear of betrayal, but because he knows it’s in his nature, his mere essence, to deal the cards he gets, and never expect anything else.

A part of his heart, hardened with time and self discipline, breaks when the Iron Bull caresses his face with big fingers, his only healthy eye lost in Dorian's features. It had all started as it usually does, with burning desire that ended up behind closed doors and curtains that would very soon be set on fire. Can you blame him, though? That man is dexterous enough to make him lose his concentration. Which is scary.

"What's going on that cute head of yours?" Dorian asks, and Bull, older and scarred, far from what would be considered cute, chuckles bashfully.

There are many misconceptions about Bull, and Dorian has to admit that he was, in fact, the one with the most prejudices. Oil and water, he tries to remind himself when he feels himself getting soft. Not bound to last, or to anything good. The Bull has to know that, and yet his gaze is yearning, vulnerable.

"I'm scared," he admits, and Dorian knows there is more, that that smart, behemoth of a qunari is plagued with thoughts and unspeakable fears that Dorian may never get to understand. "I think… I think you know what I am afraid of.”

“You have never been one to be insecure about what he does or says.”

The Bull’s eye glints with something akin to fondness, and Dorian feels something, something that's best unsaid, something that does make him afraid, like a child about to be reprimanded because of something he doesn't fully understand, his masters always knowing how brilliant he was, but annoyed at his brightness. Too much, too indecent.

He hates the fear that paralyzes him, but it feels oddly familiar. Almost like home.

"You'd be surprised," Bull mutters. "But you're right. I prefer to be honest… which I guess it's kind of ironic, isn't it?"

Dorian braces for it. For the conversation that he is dreading, but anticipating at the same time. Bull's thumb is on his upper lip, almost as if sensing his breath. Dorian wonders if he can hear his heart, drumming desperately against his chest.

"You know I like you, don't you?"

Dorian lets out a sardonic laugh. That's safe enough. He has been liked before. It's nothing he cannot handle.

"I would hope so, given how you were-"

"Dorian."

It's strange to hear his name like that. Usually, Bull would follow along. Sex is fun. Sex, when it's with Bull, is mind-blowing. But sex is just sex, it's comfortable enough for them not to have to tiptoe around. Even in public, for Bull, boasting about it. About him.

It made him both embarrassed and… proud.

Dorian knows that Bull is wary of magic. He still sees amazement in his good eye when Dorian barely contains the magic inside of him, vibrating inside his fingertips when he holds him, almost desperately, because Bull just did something amazing and everything that makes him himself is about to break.

"I'm afraid," Bull continues, deep voice slow and clear. "Because what I feel about you feels natural, and yet…"

Dorian feels the words burning in his throat, and words escape him without thinking, his own fear manifesting in a way that makes him feel pathetic.

"I thought qunari didn't really have… romantic partners."

Bull's smile is sad, and Dorian wants to kiss it, but he keeps his feelings on a leash, not allowing himself to move.

"Tal-vashoth, remember?"

His eye is shining a little bit too much, and this time, Dorian moves. He doesn't really think about it, beautiful fingers that are used to reading and casting spells tracing rough skin, feeling the Bull's stubble.

"I know… I know how hard it feels to feel that you don't belong to a place you love deeply."

Bull smiles, kissing his palm softly. Dorian can feel his insides combusting, glad that he doesn't blush easily, but he is sure that someone like Bull has realized.

"You're sweet."

Dorian has been called lots of things. Mostly insults of backhanded compliments, but still. Sweet is not one of them. He is not sweet, he is smart, he is confident, he is funny, but…

"You're good to me. And I want to be good to you. If you'll allow me."

Dorian gulps, the feeling about to overwhelm him.

"I'm afraid of losing control. Even more when I'm around you, because you challenge everything I have ever thought about many, many things… But I like you, Dorian. I am afraid because of how much I like you. And shit, I would fucking retire if misread your feelings, but I think-"

"No," Dorian almost hisses, his voice caught in his throat, terrified of speaking his truth, but doing it nevertheless. "You haven't misread anything. Believe me…"

And Bull looks at him, patiently, watching eloquent Dorian struggling to find the right words, for the right feelings.

"I like you too. A lot. And Maker, it terrifies me to no end."

Bull smiles slightly. Sweet, understanding. Something solid to hang onto until the storm inside of Dorian subsides.

"So, do you want to give it a try?"

A try? With him? A relationship? Not just fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, something to forget about when the heat of the moment is gone? With him?

"Yes," Dorian says, louder than he should have, and he hadn't realized how much he wanted it until he says it, almost desperately. Like everything he has ever wanted but he didn't think he could get.

"Good."

Bull looks calmer. Younger, almost. Excited, relieved. Dorian wonders if he looks anything similar to it.

"So, my good looks have won you over, huh? My personality, maybe?"

He is good at deflecting. When everything gets a little bit too personal, too mushy. It's an instinctive reflex, but Bull is incredibly good at seeing through his defenses.

"You're sweet," he repeats, more handsome than he should be allowed to be. "I fucking love your looks and your personality. But you're sweet to me. And that's what matters the most."

Dorian blinks, sighing deeply seconds after, hiding his face in Bull's scarred shoulder.

"I cannot win against you, can I?"

"Nope. But I think it's very fun when you try."

Dorian smiles, sweetly, because Bull cannot really see his face. He tries not to take that as a challenge, but fails miserably.

"We'll see."

Bull chuckles, and love be fucking damned, because it has rendered him a complete idiot, but Dorian thinks, surprisingly, that  it's the most beautiful sound in the world.

[francesbeau]

Caliban and the Witch: Silvia Federici

Harvard Referenced: Federici S (2004) ‘Caliban and the Witch. Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation.’ Penguin Modern Classics. Great Britain.  

- Honestly just picked this book up on a whim and it ended up being one of the best Feminist texts I’ve ever read. So versatile too - cited it in an article about French women in Cinema lol. I really hope I get to revisit this text academically. 

Introduction:

. ‘Since Marx, studying the genesis of capitalism has been an obligatory step for activists and scholars convinced that the first take on humanities agenda is the construction of an alternative to capitalists society.’ 

All the World Needs a Jolt:

. ‘The social struggles of the Middle Ages must also be remembered because they wrote a new chapter in the history of liberation.’ 

. Serfdom = state of being a feudal laborer 

. ‘As women gained more autonomy their presence in social life began to be recorded more frequently.’ (pp28)

. Heretic = practicing heresy. non conformity. unorthodox thinking. 

. Church: ‘Clergy recognized the power sexual desire gave women over men and persistently tried to exorcise it by identifying holiness with an avoidance of women an sex. / ‘An object of shame - all these were the means by which patriarchal caste tried to break the power of women and erotic attraction.’ 

The Accumulation of Labor and the Degradation of Women:

. ‘Turned into an instrument for the reproduction of labor and the expansion of the workforce, treated as a natural breeding-machine functioning according to rhythms outside of women's control.’ (pp101)

.’Combined with land dispossession, the loss of power with regard to wage employment lead to the massification of prostitutions.’ (pp.105)

. ‘Looking at these phenomena from the vantage point of the present, after four centuries of capitalist discipling of women, the answers may seem t impose themselves.’

. ‘From the beginning of capitalism, the immersion of the working class began with war and and land privatization. this was an international phenomenon.’ 

The Taming of Women and the Redefinition of Femininity and Masculinity 

. ‘It is not surprising then in view of this devaluation of women's labor and social status that the insubordination of women and the methods by which they could be tamed were among the main themes in the literature and social policy of the transition. Women could not have been totally devalued as workers and deprived of autonomy with respect to men without being subjected to an intense process of social degradation.’ (pp.115)

.Taming of the Shrew ; ‘was the manifesto of the age. the punishments of female insubordination to patriarchal authority was called for and celebrated in countless misogynous plays. (p.116)

. ‘Women's refusals of victimization also reshaped the sexual division of labor.’ (pp.132)

The Great Caliban 

.’One of the predictions for capitalist development was the process that Michel Foucault defined as the ‘discipling of the body.; which in my view consisted of an attempt by state and church to transform the individuals power into labor-power.’ (pp139) 

(So from my understanding Foucault talks about this body-power as a sort of political technology of the body. where the docile body is malleable and disciplinary force enforces its way on to.)

The Great Witch Hunt in Europe

.’The Roman Catholic church provided the metaphysical and ideological scaffold of the which hunt and instigated the persecution of witches as it had previously instigated the persecution of the heretics.’ (pp181)

. ‘Contrary to stereotype the witch hunt was not just a product of popish fanaticism or of the machinations of the Roman Inquisition.; (pp181)

Devil Beliefs and Changes in the Mode of Production

. ‘Witch hunting was also instrumental to the construction of a new patriarchal order where women’s bodies, their labor, their sexual and reproductive powers were placed under the control of the state and transformed into economic resources.’ (183)

. ‘’Witch hunters were less interested in the punishments of any specific transgressions than in the elimination of generalized forms of female behavior which they no longer tolerated an had to be made abominable in the eyes of the population.’ (pp.183) 

Witch Hunting and Male Supremacy: The Taming of Women

. ‘Witches were accused simultaneously of rendering men impotent and arousing an excessive sexual passion in them.’ (pp.211)

. ‘- Physical manifestation of the erosion of male authority over women.’  (pp.211)

. ‘A sexually active women was a public danger, a threat to the social order as she subverted a man’s sense of responsibility.’  (pp.211)

. ‘It was the sexual nature of her crimes and her lower-class status that distinguished the witch from the Renaissance Magician.’ (pp.220)

[symphorine]

The Dread Wolf's Eluvian Most of us have only traveled through the eluvians at the whims of those who called themselves our gods. We know them as mirrors that always go from one to another, a bonder pair linked no matter the distance. Solas has outsmarted the so-called gods. If we used normal eluvians, they could track us to our lair. Solas has improved upon June's work by creating a mirror whose singing stone can change its tune to take us to any aluvian and not just its bonded partner. Thus ,we can travel wherever this rebellion needs us, with no fear of pursuit. Travel is as safe as a normal eluvian. If you have questions, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will guide you. - Felassan

codex we find right in front of the lighthouse eluvian. interesting... mostly bc it doesn't. actually talk about the crossroads? what exactly are they? an in-between liminal space that Becomes when the eluvians are linked? and persists afterwards? maybe something to think on later when ive. actually gone into the crossroads and find some more codex entries. but ooh are the crossroads actually only an artifact of solas' improvements? if regular eluvians are a simple one to one, presumably there would be no need, and most importantly no possibility, for the crossroads. at best it would be a single passage in the fade. i think maybe that tracks! with the way the caretaker talks about solas, and the crossroads seem to be in general placed under his ownership (loosely).

ALSO this is clearly propaganda. yay wartime propaganda. also seems to imply travel was not entirely free ("at the whims")? or is it just bc obviously the location of eluvians was decided by the evanuris, since they were the ones creating them?

also interesting in terms of solas' skills. june is the god of craft and building (also irelin wears his vallaslin!), so clearly was like, not a small time player. i think solas refers to him later as like "our greatest buildings came from june". but solas was able to improve upon his work. was it just solas? did other elves work on this as well, but he ended up getting the credit as project manager to reinforce his image in the rebellion?

and more minor but felassan again being like. if you are lost or confused ask for me and i will help. nice dude. wish he was still alive and around. actually i would have LOVED to see him help rook & co and fight with solas omg. rip felassan

snippets of strife and irelin convo - not all

Strife: This is because of Fen'Harel's -- sorry, Solas's ritual, isn't it?

Strife: If those two [Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain] are back out in the world... it explains a lot.

Strife: Solas might be a bastard, but compared to the Evanuris?

Strife: Let's just say they weren't known for being kind rulers.

Irelin: There's a reason Solas led a rebellion against the Evanuris. And a reason he imprisoned them.

Strife: We've still got dozens of Veil Jumpers unaccounted for.

Rook: How can we help? Irelin: We need to find Bellara Lutare. She's the best there is at working with our ancient artifacts.

Irelin: She was off looking for another artifact before this ritual shook everything loose.

Irelin: If anyone can get a handle on all this wild magic -- and the artifacts it's setting off -- it'll be her.

irelin is so pretty. anyway. dozens of veiljumpers unaccounted for - ill try to do a headcount when i do get to the VJ camp, but this is useful to get numbers. more than a dozen less than a hundred, i'd say, which is a large window but still. idr if we get any more particulars on how the veil jumpers started? they seem to be a recent organization formally, but from tevinter nights we know strife and irelin, at least, were around already a few years ago, and presumably there have been dalish clans in arlathan forest for a while (there permanently? travelling and leaving? a mix of both? how much did they all try to explore the ruins? were they more or less accessible before this? what about inquisition time, when the veil was definitely weakened, even if arlathan forest was far away from the Breach? did some dalish stay there, separating from their clan, to explore the ruins more?)

also it's been pointed out before but. "[the evanuris] weren't known for being kind rulers." since when exactly? i dont mean this flippantly im literal. definitely not the wider view in inquisition. what's changed?

this is more speculation than canon for various reasons, but: iirc most of the elves we heard of starting to follow solas in trespasser were city elves (makes sense, especially with the mounting tension in Orlais since the masked empire's events - and dalish people presumably would absolutely not trust someone who fashions himself the dread wolf, whether or not he truly is). from what we know city elves have even less access to knowledge of elvhen history than the dalish, so maybe it was easier/ran less contrary to their deeply held beliefs to hear the evanuris were also terrible masters who enslaved their ancestors? definitely resonated with their own plight as city elves. so that's one thing - but the veil jumpers must have been (and still be) mostly composed of dalish members. strife iirc was not born dalish and joined later, but i think irelin is dalish, bellara definitely is. when and how did they find this information? they cant have just accepted what solas said. what did they find in the ruins? was it in areas/artifacts suddenly accessible and awoken by veil instabilities and the gods' presence? and how widespread is it? we basically only interact with or hear ambient convo from the veil jumpers' members in terms of dalish elves (besides dalish npcs we save and don't really talk to). is this knowledge that only the VJ have, and most of the rest of the dalish are carrying on as normal? how DO other dalish clans react when they inform them of this?

also a more personal gripe: the constant talk of artifacts to retrieve is... hm... feels like filler? like something for VJ to do. what artifacts? what do they do? how do you classify them? clearly there are very different types! i wanna know more! it's sort of acceptable for this first conversation bc we're meeting for the first time and there's no time ot go into details, but it happens again and again in later interactions. tell me more! where ARE your artifacts! what do they do! who else besides bellara is working on fixing them! i want to knowwwww

and ofc the eternal question: last time we were in thedas, eluvians were also not something commonly known; most of them were broken, and finding working ones was rare. in da2, Merrill spends all game trying to make one work, and sure she doesn't have a lot of resources, but it doesn't seem to be an easy task. at the very least, she needs Power that isn't readily available, which is why she uses blood magic (someone correct me if i'm rembering wrong). how come now there are 1) eluvians everywhere (we'll ignore the convenience of their location bc yes that's obviously dictated by game mechanics rather than lore) (altho i might go back to that later when ive unlocked more of the map and have ruminated more) and 2) so many eluvians in working order! did solas fix and transport them all to ease his travels? that would open interesting implications in terms of where he's been going and why in those last ten years.

[attractthecrows]

Fun facts about my bitches OCs while i wait for my ibuprofen to kick in

- Laure's childhood name was Laurel; she'd have grown up to be Lady Laurel Amell if not for her magic, probably married off to some noble in Starkhaven. The L at the end got dropped when she transferred to Kinloch during the same incident that turned her hair white (Jowan accidentally smashed a bottle of lyrium potion over her head before she'd managed to introduce herself. the templars that escorted her didn't care to learn her name and between the blood and the lyrium the label on her clothing was obscured so they- Greagoir, Irving, and Wynne- didn't know her name for sure, and guessed at "Laure". when she awoke with white hair she embraced the new name as part of a new start.)

- Laure went temporarily nonverbal from the trauma of being torn from her childhood home, and the apprentice's quarters were heavily overcrowded, so the enchanters at the Gallows in Kirkwall just passed her from enchanter to enchanter until room opened up somewhere or the first enchanter decided to do something else with her. Orsino, not yet first enchanter at the time, was the first to get her to talk and the one she warmed up to the most until her transfer to Kinloch.

- Laure always had a certain fondness for Cullen, but she resents Templars, and thus just outright never trusted him (or any who wear the uniform). She regards him as a well-meaning idiot with great capacity for harm. Like a pitbull. She also knows about his crush on her, and is not above using that to her advantage.

- Laure has a knack for picking up languages, but tends to have book-taught pronunciation issues until corrected. she is conversational in Dwarven, Tevene, and Ander, and was beginning to pick up Qunlat from Sten by the end of the Blight. Velanna has taught her some elvish, and she's learned quite a bit of Antivan from Zevran. (as a result, her personal notes and journals are almost indecipherable. rather than a code, she uses a mix of different language vocabularies and grammar rules, picking and choosing which to combine on a whim and even using different forms of shorthand.)

- Aiona and Revallen may or may not have another sibling they don't know about via the Arlathvhen orgies that I decided definitely happen. their father was very popular.

- part of why Revallen refuses to wear clothes is that, as a pyromancer, he naturally has a higher body temperature. another part is that his full-body vallaslin acts as a mana channeling system; as his mana runs hot, when it's amplified, it increases in temperature, meaning his vallaslin can burn his clothes if he's not careful (even as a keeper he didn't cover more than he had to. even for pyromancers too much heat can be unpleasant) (this does in fact mean he hasn't worn tight clothes or regular shirts since he was 16. up until inquisition forced him to)

- Revallen is a complete flirt but also somewhat oblivious as to how flirty he actually comes across; he's not trying to be deceptive, mind, he's just usually preoccupied with something else. He loved Ilithra deeply for years, and loved spending time with her; he was still stunned into comical silence when she finally broke the tension and kissed him. Same thing with Dorian; he loved the flirting and teasing but it didn't occur to him to expect more until Dorian finally had enough and they were making out in the library all of a sudden. In short, Revallen has a type, and that is "smart enough to realize that I'm too stupid to make the first move".

[kcwriter-blog]

Well said. I mean we don’t even know if Morrigan is still Morrigan. If she is part Flemeth, she isn’t going to care about her family life. As for Varric and Hawk? Did Varric tell the Inquisitor about the real Bianca? Not until she showed up at Skyhold. It hurt too much. So if Hawk is in the Fade it hurts and if they aren’t there is no reason to say anything unless Rook asks and why would Rook ask? Hawk was important to the South but not the North.

But no letters or codixes? Does the mailman come to the Crossroads? But the Wardens? I could be wrong but they looked a little too busy with Ghilan’nain to be discussing the HOF. But the Divine should have an impact? Why? Possibly to the Northern governments but Rook isn’t a noble and it doesn’t look like we will be hanging out in halls of power this time. And did you miss the Qunari invasion? The North has its own concerns.

But it’s all about Solavellan! No it isn’t. If you didn’t romance Solas none of that content will be in your game. But it’s the default state? How do you know? Based on one screen shot? Even if a female elf is the default, that doesn’t mean she romanced anyone. My first time playing DAI I had the default Hawk who didn’t romance anyone. When I played ME2. I was able to choose “the mission comes first” over the two romance options. I know she doesn’t have a valleslin. Neither I’m told does the default male elf. Maybe we have to choose that? I mean not all Solavellans chose to have their valleslin removed.

I get what the writers said sucked and I’m sure they are being raked over the coals by the marketing/PR department- as they should be - but people need to calm down and use their critical thinking skills. If the devs made that decision they had an actual reason. We don’t know what that reason was. We may never know. I doubt they just decided to do it on a whim or because they hate the fans or because some of them ship Solavellan. Do you know how I know? Because Trick Weekes wrote Iron Bull. Like most writers their characters are like their children and they still set it up so the Inquisitor might have to kill Iron Bull because that made the most sense story wise. Solavellan might not get a happy ending because that might not make sense.

Ten years isn’t that long, of course there would still be an impact. Really? The global pandemic was 5 years ago and everyone is pretty much acting like it’s business as usual. In game it only took two years for Orlais and Fereldan to want to neuter the Inquisition and the Inquisitor saved the world. People have short memories and the action has moved to a completely different part of the continent. Given that I know many, many Americans that can’t name the captiols of all 50 states, I have a hard time believing your average Rinvaini is going to know much about the South.

It’s a tempest in a teapot. Go ahead and grieve but also consider that it might be a good game even if you don’t get a codex about a 50 year old Fenris starting a refuge for escaped slaves.

I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.

The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.

Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.

Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.

Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive there things would look WILDLY different.

It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"

Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE. And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell.