#and making sure my character consistency was kept in check

[dunedragon]

Me: Finally picking up Legacy Collection again.

Mega: Whoa! Just where have you been? >:(

Me: WRITING ANGSTY FANFICTION

[arolesbianism]

One thing that makes my life oh so hard is that I don't actually care for most of the popular dupes that much. I don't Not like them to be clear, I do like them, I just also feel like I'm staring at a color blind test whenever I see ppl talk abt their favorite dupes and everyone involved is obsessed with the same like 3 dupes that I just sort of like well enough and nothing more. Sorry women I don't actually care abt Bubbles that much 😔

[perfectlovevn]

Haiii!!! I love your game so much, your work is genuinely impressive! I was wondering if you could give some tips on game development. I am new to all that and I don't know many things myself and since I am kind of looking up to you I was curious if you could help!! ^_^

Man I love talking about game development. It’s so much fun!

I have a couple things tagged under #Milo resources to check out. I would highly recommend Catskets guides, however, it seems like it’s kinda dead right now, so I’ll just recap some stuff from it.

So first off, always start small. This is true for a lot of things that you start out with like comics, making music, etc, but for game development this is especially true. It’s better to make a bunch of small things rather than making something huge as a first project. 90% of the time if you make something huge as your first project, you’ll never finish it, and even if you are the 10% that are able to finish it, you’ll have to likely spend years working on it pretty much non stop. Despite the game not being relatively long compared to other longer games in the genre, I still kinda fell into the trap of making a kinda long game, which still took me about a year to make.

In terms of deciding how to make your game, follow the KISS rule, which is just keep it simple, stupid. However long you think your game will take, double that time. I thought I could finish my game in six months and it ended up being a year and that was working on it almost every day. I purposefully took a lot of shortcuts like using free music, kept everything black and white to prevent coloring and used stock images for background.

Have a solid idea for your game and write an outline. Personally I always write everything first because for me I feel like once I have everything down, I can figure out the sprites and things I need without having to waste time messing around. Be able to describe your game in one sentence and really focus on whatever your games purpose/core ideas are. My game can very easily be described as a diy yandere game and my core ideas are having an evil mc that’s able to manipulate someone who doesn’t deserve it into being a yandere. If you find that you can find the things that people will like about your game. Focus on your strengths and what you like. If you’re a good artist and really like bright neon colors, put that into your game. If you’re not that great of an artist but are a good writer and like comedy, put that into your game. If you’re gonna work on your game for months or even years, make it something you enjoy making.

Research whatever you’re trying to make. If you’re making an rpg horror game, play a lot of horror rpg games. If you’re making a comedy game, play a lot of comedy games. Find out what you like and what annoys you. Find out what you think is missing from the genre that you wish they had. For Perfect Love, I didn’t particularly like how most of the main characters were relatively normal and didn’t have much personality in yandere vns and I really wanted to see one that was actually more threatening/dangerous than the yandere itself so I wanted to make that a core aspect in the game. I tend to play a lot of Yandere vns because I run a blog about it, so I know what I believe makes a good Yandere game in my eyes and what doesn’t.

Have diligence when making your game. This is the genuinely hardest part of making a game because you often will have a lot of things you need to juggle and often for a pretty long time, especially if you’re working by yourself. It’s very easy to stop working on the game because you don’t feel like it, but if you want to have it exist you have to work on it. I’m not saying you do nothing but work on the game or never take breaks- that’s a sure fire way to get burn out- but you do need to consistently work on it, even if it’s just an hour a day. This includes doing things as making deadlines and figuring out what you’re going to work on. Deadlines, whether you make it or move it, are very helpful in making sure that your game comes out, even a soft deadline is important. To be honest, if a game doesn’t even have a soft deadline, then I generally assume it won’t be finished because there’s no urgency to it. I’ve had multiple deadlines that I pushed back constantly but my mentality is that I would work on the game for at max a year because I didn’t want to stall it any longer than that. I also feel that having devlogs, even if it’s just a picture of something you drew once a month, is really helpful in showing that you are working on something and makes it more likely to be more consistent in your work.

Try not make an ask blog before you have like 90% of your game done. This is sort of rough especially if you’re trying to make money on the game or try to get it recognized, but remember than an ask blog is just another one in line of things you’re doing to make the game, which means another responsibility you have to pay attention to. A lot of game blogs will end up spending too much time on asks rather than working on the game itself, which is fine, it’s really fun to interact with an audience, but that does mean less time into working on your game itself. I only made a blog after the majority of my game was finished with only one major scene and sounds being the last couple of things I needed to work on because the bruntload of my work is done. If you do make a blog before then, just be careful not to slip into just being an ask blog and work on your game.

Finally, you gotta let go of perfection, man. This is perhaps ironic coming from a game dev who made a game called perfect love, but I had to do this a lot. Part of the reason I chose the style that I did was so I could get away with making mistakes more easily, since everything already as a less polished style. It’s very easy to fall into the trap of I have to make this perfect, but the reality is that most people will probably not notice the things you find imperfect and if they do, they might not care. There’s a difference between doing your best to make game and trying to make everything perfect. Your game, especially your first game is, probably not going to be that good and that’s okay. Your second game will be better than your first and your third is better than your second, this is just what it’s like learning and getting good at making things. The best thing to do is just to make it and take notes about what mistakes you can fix afterwards. There’s a phrase of don’t let perfect get in the way of being good. Sometimes there are just things that need to be good enough when making your game.

That’s all the general stuff for organization, let’s get onto the actual making of the game. I’ll be mostly taking about Renpy since that’s what I used for this game, but a lot of this can also apply to other game engines as well.

Honestly, Renpy compared to some other game engines doesn’t require a lot of coding and isn’t that hard to use, but there is still a learning curve to figuring out everything. The best thing I can say is follow a couple of basic tutorials and just google things when you can’t figure it out. Nine times out of ten you can find a solution to it and if you can’t you can always just cheese it. Hey, as long as it works. Ask questions or try to see what other games are doing the things you want and then just break into them. You can usually just open rpy files and you can even look up more compressed files if you can find it online. For Renpy, reddit, lensoft and even f95 are good places to find what you need. You can also just… steal code sometimes. No it’s not illegal, yes you can do it as long as you’re not like stealing an entire game. Steal and repurpose. That’s all you need sometimes. Indents will probably be your enemy for a while in the beginning though I will say. Sometimes you need to google different key words to find the what you want and sometimes you need to smash things together to get it to work. Comment out things you don’t need and keep backups. Comment to make it easier for you to find stuff or to figure out what you’re doing. Visual Novel Design and Zeil Learnings are really good for this and the Renpy cookbook is fun for adding in smaller things. If you know how to code with python you can do a ton of other crazy stuff with it. Keep your sprites and everything organized so it’s easier to direct your code to them, and you can split your script into different files if you want to. Renpy documentation is kinda messy but very helpful.

Screen and script are coded differently so be careful when doing that. Screen is coded more similarly to how css is coded (if that’s helpful) so know if what a vbox/hbox, style and buttons are made are very helpful. You can take apart my code if you want, though fair warning some parts of it feel more like it’s taped together with duct tape at times. Always play your game when making changes, and play it multiple times. Read it out loud if it helps you, and really nail parts you want to be more impactful. If something is boring to you while reading it, change it to make it more interesting.

Personally, the way I make games is something like ideas > writing > art > coding > music. Art and coding are generally worked on at the same time but I always write everything out first so I know what I need to draw. Perhaps the process might be different for you though, so do what feels right.

This is something I didn’t really do as much as I wanted to do in this game, but always play test your game with others. You’ve probably played your game like 1000+ times but it’s a different experience for others that have never played it. You can see what they liked and disliked, what things they’re confused by, what actions they take most, if your writing is giving the right emotion, if you missed something, if there’s any bugs etc. I did this mostly when I was basically almost finished, but honestly I should have gotten more feedback thought the entire process to really understand what people thought about it. It’s pretty daunting to the point where it makes me kinda cringe listening to people read it out loud, but it will help your game nonetheless. I probably should have know considering that’s literally what a UX designer like myself does all the time as a job but we live and learn.

That’s a butt ton of stuff to say and honestly there’s probably even more I could go into because I love game design a lot, so hopefully you’ll take some of the advice I’ve given and I hope that it was helpful! It’s honestly a bit overwhelming but honestly just jump in and start it, which if you literally follow nothing else I wrote just do that. Good luck! I wanna play your game so hand it over when you’re done.

[exaflux]

BTAS pre-production stuff/official designs and artstyle stuff

Don't mind the title, I'm a bit naff at titling things...

I'm sure people have made posts about it before, but just in case there's anyone that doesn't know, there's official documents on BTAS floating around the net. Things covering episode writing, bios, a bunch of art that animators would have used. Whole lot of stuff.

I've seen people ask questions/have discussion on things like imitating the style/character heights/other general things. These documents are all official and might be helpful so, hey, might as well share for those not in the know.

Gonna keep it short (I'll provide some links so you can check out for yourself as there's a lot I won't cover) but I'll outline some stuff that catches my eye (first bit is about pre-production and ideas they had, second bit is stuff about how they went about drawing/designing the characters)

Pre-production

In animation, it's standard to have a thing called a writer's bible, also called an animation bible. They include everything from plot synopsis, character/concept art, character bios, episode ideas, basically the whole nine yards. These are used mainly in the early stages to pitch ideas and get projects greenlit, but are also kept around as a handy shortform thing to summarise the whole project as much as possible.

As it turns out, the BTAS writer's bible has been extensively documented! There's a PDF of it actually! And if you don't want a PDF, there's a website that covers all the contents too.

As per writer's bibles, it has a ton of their ideas and direction they wanted to take with the show, from episode structure to joke writing right down to how much settings should be able to change per-episode. There's a whole lot of art too! Here's a snippet about some of the changes they wanted to make with the Dark Knight himself:

And just for fun let's also leave some info about how they approached writing Bruce Wayne:

Anyway! On a more interesting topic- some of the rogues. The bios of most of the rogues are included, as are some art of earlier designs. Riddler looks like a sleezy car salesman and Joker is kinda just missing his lips and has stripy pants is seems.

Also of note: in some alternative timeline somewhere we could have had Calendar Man and Gentleman Ghost in BTAS...

As for character heights... The height chart is sectioned into "head" height for Batman's head. The uppermost line is Batman's height, so Batman is 8 Batman heads tall. While it can be hard to make out some of the character heights due to the poses, it'd be safe to guess that you do take poses into account on the height chart. Two-Face is shorter on the chart than Harvey is for example but you'll notice that Two-Face's art shows his head tilted down slightly, so Two-Face isn't actually shorter it's just his pose.

You'll notice these characters are uncoloured. The colour palettes featured are an interesting point that deserve their own post. I'll touch on them another time.

Style Guides / Character Sheets

Style guides tell animators how to correctly draw characters. Can also be applied for things like backgrounds and props and the likes though, whatever feels needed to be noted to keep consistency even if other people are drawing the characters.

Character sheets are character sheets. 'Nuff said. These just show off a character looks from different angles. Expression sheets showing how character emote, art on full-body posing and sheets on hand poses are things that also tend to be covered in animated productions.

Can be found here and here. A lot of overlap in the art shown between the two links but they're absolutely full of character sheets and turn-arounds. There's definitely a lot more design documents I've seen about in other places, but alas, I can't track them down for the life of me.

Here's some highlights:

(When Twoface blinks only his good eye closes completely. His injured eye only partially closes)

("John Crane")

Some early character art:

~~~

If you made it this far then congrats here's some Batmen for your troubles

[awkward--at--parties]

I Don’t Like Either of Clinical Trial’s Endings

And maybe(???) that’s the point.

TW: Images of blood and wounds. Discussion of abuse, murder, stalking, rape.

Let’s look at the outcomes of both endings on paper:

Reject

Lee dies

Angel may be implicated in the murder (though I don’t really believe Lee’s assertion that Angel will be in trouble tbh and chalk it up to his protectiveness / a last ditch effort by him to manipulate Angel into staying with him. The shrine, the records that Angel was Lee’s patient, and the signal blocker are pretty damning evidence that Lee preyed on Angel).

Accept

Angel upends their own life to be with their predator.

I know we all love Lee and understand why he did the things he did, but his actions towards Angel were predatory. Angel in the reject ending is right. Someone who loves you does not disrespect your privacy through stalking, disrupt your life and scar you by involving you in a murder, decide for you what an appropriate punishment for your abuser is, steal one of your favorite items and defile it, and consistently lie by omission. And even if Lee did none of that stuff, even if he just was some nurse practioner who fell for his patient and started a relationship with them, that’s still starting a relationship on an extreme power imbalance. It’s not the actions of someone that would make a healthy partner.

You can say that, in the Accept ending, at least all that dirty laundry has been aired and Angel has consciously chosen to move on from it, but remember that, even in Accept when Angel demands Lee tell them if there are any other secrets being kept, Lee never tells Angel what he did to their jacket. Angel finding out about the jacket themself is only an optional interaction too, meaning Angel never finds out in endings where the washing machine isn’t checked. To me, that shows Lee is still not ready to be an honest partner.

Plus, despite his mic drop line about how Brandon would never be afforded the choice of no, Lee is not great at consent either. Sure, he talks about not wanting to pressure Angel into intimacy, but what about all the pressure he puts on Angel to stay at the house when they say they want to go home? How many times in the Reject ending did Angel have to say no to Lee’s plan for them to escape the police? How consensual was the jacket, the stalking, the signal jammer, the breaking patient boundaries? Lee is showing every red flag for being an extremely controlling partner. Yes, Angel wants someone to rely on, but there is a very big difference between healthy amount of taking care of a s.o. and controlling their life. That is what makes it impossible for me to believe they really spend the rest of their lives in a wholesome, equal relationship when Lee started off the relationship in the most manipulative way possible.

This is coming from someone who loves Lee as a character and also agrees with a lot of Angel’s analysis of him in the Accept ending. I can see exactly why he is who he is. But Angel deserves someone who is honest and allows them free will. I mean, they do all that for Lee after all. Why shouldn’t they expect the same in return? That’s one of the beautiful things about this game though— two things can be true. Lee was predatory towards Angel and the way Lee became so predatory towards them is understandable. So that makes neither ending perfectly satisfying for me.

In my perfect world, Angel and Lee don’t end up together, but both of them move on from the events of the game and find happiness apart. That can’t happen in Reject because Angel needs to report Lee asap to support their innocence, and, whether not being with Angel or the threat of jail pushes him to do it, Lee will end his own life. Maybe they could eventually healthily separate in Accept, but the epilogue from the devs shows the two stay together for at least awhile. Even if they do eventually split, Angel would have spent a chunk of their life with their predator and would probably struggle to ever truly connect with people knowing that Lee’s the only person they could ever confide in about the murder.

Lee puts Angel in a very extreme and shitty position. I think it is realistic that there are only two ways the game can end, even if I wish there was another. I hear it said in the fandom that the Accept ending is canon because it has more content from the devs than the Reject ending. That notion greatly concerns me. The beautiful part of both endings being the possible canon ending is that Angel is validated in either choice. To say Accept is canon is to invalidate the realism of Angel being able to reject Lee. Frankly, that prioritizes Lee’s feelings over accountability for his predatory actions and leaves Angel responsible for fixing Lee’s life when they haven’t even figured out their own life. (BTW- nothing wrong with Accept being the canon ending in your own interpretation of the game, I'm speaking about what the devs making this canon means). What never sat right with me about Accept is that, so much of the first two acts of the game are all about Angel’s perspective. The final act through the lens of Accept has Angel immersed in Lee’s perspective, so it really comes across as Angel affording the space in their mind dedicated to figuring out their own life to ensuring Lee’s security.

Though nothing from the devs confirms which ending is canon outright, I don't want there to be a dismissal of the validity of Reject. There’s a very good chance the devs also just enjoy the Lee and Angel relationship dynamic and are more interested in exploring that rather than trying to subtly confirm which ending is canon.

At least that’s what I need to believe. Because I really do think both endings are canon at the same time. Angel deserves to leave, Angel can understand Lee. Though there are only two choices in Clinical Trial, there are rarely dichotomies like this irl. You can walk away from people who’ve wronged you and simultaneously afford them empathy and compassion. You can be kind and accepting to those around you so things never get so dire that they end up in a basement with a drill and only one visible life path. Many, many choices went wrong in Angel and Lee’s lives before they ended up in that basement after all.

One last thing— I’ve heard it said that the big relationship fantasy fulfillment of the game is how it depicts two suspected neurodivergent individuals in a wholesome relationship before the final act’s dark reveals. I completely agree that a lot of the commentary of the game is about how difficult it is for neurodivergent people to thrive in a world built for the neurotypical. However, though I think stories of people in neurodivergent people in happy relationships are underrepresented in the media, I still think people deserve better in terms of healthy representation. I agree these two are an interesting pairing, but that does not equal healthy. Just saying— I think Angel and Lee’s relationship is far from goals and has so many dangerous undertones to it that consuming it as a relationship dynamic to strive for could lead to internalizing some unhealthy attitudes about acceptable relationship behavior. I think they are more a cautionary tale than an OTP.

[lgbtqwriting]

recently I had to get a major but non-urgent surgery done. here are some things I wouldn’t know - and as a result wouldn’t know to write about when working with a character in that position - unless I got to experience them firsthand

chances are you’ll have to get up early. like, really early. I had to leave the house by 5:30am so that I could be there by 6

most of the people in the waiting room with you will probably be older than you are, assuming you’re not in your 70s or 80s

surgery prep time (for you) will take at least half an hour. this mostly consists of you getting out of your clothes and into a hospital gown/pair of grippy socks as the nursing staff and surgical assistants periodically check in on you and get your information

depending on the length and intensity of your surgery, you may need to be intravenously hydrated. if this is the case, you’ll be asked to give a urine sample beforehand

from what I remember, hydrating IVs work a little differently than general anesthesia (for those of you who’ve had wisdom teeth removed or molars extracted while under anesthesia) — rather than wrapping a tourniquet around your arm and sticking the IV in your forearm near the inside of your elbow, they instead stick it in a vein on the back of your hand. for me, when the IV drip started to work, it felt like a cool buzzing sensation was thrumming through my hand and traveling up my arm; mildly unpleasant and hard to ignore, but bearable

if your doctors and specialists are nice, they’ll pay you a quick visit before the surgery to make sure you’re feeling okay. if they’re really nice, you’ll be given a sedative a few minutes before they take you into the operating room. for me, it felt like suddenly being submerged under water — I struggled to pay attention to what people were saying, and then it was lights out

a lot of hospital equipment is very mobile, from IVs to desks and computers. one of the few things that kept me distracted from my anxiety was how bewildered I felt at watching person after person roll up to my bed with an entire office setup, then roll away once they were content with the information I gave them

there are three well known reactions to anesthesia: you become loopy, emotional, or constantly fall asleep. but some people wake up from surgery fully lucid and in control of their faculties. after my dad’s colonoscopy, he felt so normal that he wanted to drive himself home. (I inherited that reaction, which is both a blessing and a curse)

and a little something extra for the hurt/comfort enjoyers —

when you finish the prep stage, you’re allowed to ask the nurses to invite one of the people you arrived with to sit with you and hold your hand until it’s time for surgery. this is typically the person they will give a bag of your things to hold onto during the procedure

that’s all I can really think of but I’m open to answering questions if anyone has them.

[murkycran]

Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

------

Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

OR

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

[sparklejumpropekitty]

Since it was announced James was involved in a future acting project in Mr Fanboy (as a villain, which he wanted to do for awhile now and DMD granted him that), I see many people spreading lies about him saying he quit acting which he never did. He has explained this MULTIPLE times for A YEAR and people still be twisting his words. This is just one quick compilation, there's more actually. There's also two quite recent interviews where he talked more in depth about the many factors that led him to withdraw from the series, and how the decision was a collective decision. This narrative has been consistent as Net also has said the same thing - they have talked for almost a year prior from the withdrawal announcement (James, Net, and their management). The two interviews are on YT - one with Poppy and the other one with Pondonnews. You can check out @xxjdesu translations for the interviews on her X account.

Summary of his interview, some factors that made him stepping back from Love Upon A Time:

1. He was struggling mentally while and after filming Bed Friend for awhile (he said it was more than a year). He often couldn't detach himself from the role of Uea (and as we know, Uea is such a depressing character), his family noticed this. (This makes so much sense of his demeanors during that time). He felt like he was losing himself.

2. He was miserable and found joy performing on stage - singing, dancing. He felt truly happy doing those more than acting at that time.

3. He also thought about how many more things he wants to do, while he is still able and young. Remember at this time, LUAT still has no progress to go into filming? No workshop, nothing. They only has shoot for the trailer (2022). That's all there was to that series at that point.

4. The company along with him and Net has had multiple discussions regarding their future with LUAT for almost a year. Then a decision was made and the announcement happened. I'm sure they're aware how miserable James was, but Net still wanted to continue the project, which he has every right to pursue, just like James has every right to withdraw. What they wanted for themselves at that time simply has divided, they no longer shared the same dream. IMO, the way DMD handled that announcement was what that makes people misunderstood and blame it all on James. He kinda was used as a scapegoat. It was a collective decision, but the announcement made it seemed like it was only James' decision and Net and the company just granted him that.

5. James read all the comments blaming him, right after the withdrawal announcement. He felt real bad and considered jumping off of his balcony. I remember him deactivating his X account and had bad feelings about it. I never would have guessed my bad feelings about it is actually horrid. He activated his account again the next day and I remembered him saying he's okay, he just fell asleep. Little did we know, he was thinking about ending it all. Remember he also injured his leg really badly. Just imagine how horrible he must felt. Luckily, his younger sister and her bf were there, taking care of him. If not, there would be no James anymore :'(

James revealed it has been two occasions where he has suicidal thoughts, one is what I wrote above and the other one after he was severely bullied for the Cover MV we all know of. And that one is also a fail from DMD. James took full responsibility on his own, saying it was his mistake not to do another version with proper mixing and post production. The sound they used for that MV was from Melt into You concert, it was only a backtrack. In the concert, James sang live on top of the backtrack, and with the stage production and dancing, of course people never noticed how the backtrack truly sound. So many were praising that performance. Of course, Idk what truly happened behind the scene, but DMD didn't do any quality checks before releasing that MV? The way all of them kept silent (still is until today) and left James being bullied alone truly baffles me. They didn't take down the MV or close the comment section, etc. They did nothing. Even My Chemical Romance, one of the legendary bands turns off their comment section when people stepped way over the boundary. When one of their controversial ex-band mate passed away, they turned off the comment section also. Why can't DMD do any of that? Just take down the TT videos and whatnot, that people still using to this day to mock him. And not one soul in DMD ever talked about that. It was only Neoul from MeMindy that said something multiple times to defend James (and also some people that supposed to be James band mates but that project is not happening anymore, so..)

What this man has been through are just so tough and challenging. I'm not even in his shoes but I cried multiple times because it hurts, knowing he's hurting so much. All he wants is to do his job and chase his dreams. Why people are so cruel to him to the point of spreading lies and accusing him of many things, when most of the time, those people don't even know him that well..

If you don't want to support him, that's fine. But don't lie and throw untrue accusations. That can tarnish his name and made him target for bullies (Which he has had to deal with multiple times throughout his lives, some since he was a kid.)

[variousqueerthings]

some things i like about ray and fraser that make them very different from dynamics that have similarish surface ideas

@pigtailedgirl this was the post i was working on (and then kept in my drafts for aaaages)

the fact that they became ride-or-die within a day of knowing one another. this especially on ray's side (i think pilot!fraser is mostly grieving and doesn't quite realise for a hot second how much ray would do for him, although it becomes apparent i think, latest when ray shows up in canada after having checked himself out of hospital post-got-exploded). this story gave us one scene of initial misunderstandings and then dropped all of that "unwilling allies" stuff that is staple to these kinds of stories and immediately changed gear into ray dropping everything for fraser -- his other cases, his family dinner, his hospital stay after getting literally blown up for him. and that baseline is only ever challenged once in the episode juliet is bleeding because ray is going through some seriously messed up stuff

burning down the house is a separate point i want to make, which relates to how openly affecting ray's leaving is to fraser. there's no trying to diminish that connection. there's also a lot of time given to the idea that ray hasn't simply "left" him, but is actively letting him know that he is thinking about him (that he promised to get in touch and then at the end he did). the emotional honesty of it without resorting to trying to diminish it for fear of seeming not manly enough. which, speaking of...

a lack of macho posturing. obviously fraser as a lead character not having this is very refreshing on its own, but there have been characters like that to an extent before -- the "oddball" to the "straight (literally) man." what's fun is that while ray is abrasive and at times challenged by fraser's worldview, he's never afraid of being emotionally open with him, touching him, taking care of him, letting him know how much he means to him. the show very rarely pays lip-service to more macho ideas about gruffness and not wanting to show too much emotion, and even then the actual dynamic is consistently the polar opposite of that, so much that it seems weird/indicative of something more going on when they do struggle to communicate

ray's caretaking -- speaking of all of the above, ray's core personality is based in many interesting seemingly conflicting ideas (he contains multitudes) and one of these is his intense caretaking of fraser both in body and soul. he tries to make sure that fraser doesn't physically hurt himself, while also teaching him to stand up for his emotional well-being. this starts way back in the pilot as well, when he helps fraser with his grief by offering a kind ear and making sure he isn't on his own (and is eating!) by making him come have dinner with his family. and he throws himself in front of a grenade for him. jeez. and then there's all the money he's spends on him.... and the riv (RIP. three times)

also. i like that they're playful with one another, again, from very early on. there's a sense of mutual respect in that playfulness, they're on the same wavelength practically immediately and it comes out in the ease with which they joke around with each other

i like when they argue, which happens rarely, but when it does, reads as duos (duets) arguing together rather than trying to tear each other down (handbooks for good relationships), that is, almost always (juliet is bleeding aside, but fraser knows this) when they argue, it's because of something that frustrates in relation to wanting to get closer to one another, rather than trying to hurt each other or feeling bitter/jealous/unkind about each other. the closeness is for example ray pointing out how fraser's tendency towards putting Duty first hurts both of them, or that he thinks fraser should acknowledge his less overtly positive emotions (feel his feelings) and in fraser it's pointing out that ray needs to be less self-conscious or societally bound at times where he's being prejudiced (at the bdsm club, about drag) and also in asking ray to trust his sleuthing (which ray pretty much always does especially as we move into s2, but he allows himself to ask for proof), which are both things that free ray from societal constraints and also allow him to get closer to fraser

in essence i like that the core concept of them is ray (tired, bitter, just getting on with the damn day after day after day) searching for something and that "something" is everything that fraser embodies, and ray's Mission almost from the moment they meet becomes to protect and preserve fraser's innermost needs, so that he can continue to be those things and that he learns from that and trusts that he is not so dissimilar to fraser in some ways (my man... got blown up.... and then went to canada... pilot episode..... he just needs to believe he has more value)

and that for fraser (emotionally closed off but simultaneously bad at setting any kinds of boundaries, too trusting but also doesn't allow himself to be vulnerable, not used to being put first including by himself) ray allows him to become more playful and open and not be afraid of being vulnerable for potentially the first time since he was a child, to let down his guard and not be constantly bound to his idea of Duty and Service, and yeah, to be a bit selfish

and they're never scared of being these things with each other. it's just very refreshingly poking holes in tropes

[haru-dipthong]

Ep 12 of my Utena fansub is out!

私たちも今までいろいろやってきた、疲れたわね

We've been so busy the last few episodes. I'm pooped.

A juicy little indulgence on my part here - the fourth wall break here by the shadow girls does not actually exist in the Japanese (explicitly). I’ll explain why I added it.

Here’s a very literal translation of the individual words above with no thought given to context or adjusting for grammar.

We (also) | until now | various different things | have done up to this point

I believe いろいろやってきた (lit. we’ve done various different things up to this point) is referring to their various performances in a sort of meta way. If we take each appearance of the shadow girls as a semi-in-universe mini stage play, this line is referencing the presence of previous plays within the current play. They’ve played pirates, plate spinners, cowboys, an educational program, and more! Acknowledging these things is tantamount to a performer acknowledging the fact that they’re an actor rather than a character while on stage, so the fourth wall break felt appropriate.

Anya was also happy with the fourth wall break and added that it emphasises the episode as a turning point and helps close out the arc, which I really agree with!

-----

また黙秘するわけね。今のウテナってかっこ悪いよ。何か取られた腑抜けみたい。なんだかわからないけど、取られたら取り返しなさいよ！

Are you clamming up again? You look pathetic right now. Like you let someone steal from you! I don’t know what it was, but if someone took something from you, take it back!

Couple of little things to discuss about this line:

かっこ悪い is often translated as “uncool” or “lame”. This can sometimes be accurate, since it’s the opposite of かっこいい (lit. cool), but in this circumstance those words don’t hit hard enough. This かっこ悪い is more barbed than usual, so I kept the barbs by choosing a different word: pathetic.

“Clamming up” was an off the cuff choice because I felt I’d used “be quiet”, “not talk”, etc too many times in the previous scene to reuse them here. I think it fits with Wakaba’s personality and the current situation pretty well! 黙秘 is defined by jisho.org as “remaining silent; keeping secret”.

腑抜け means “coward” or something similar. I tried phrasing this line a few times to get that word in somehow, but in the end the whole rant just read so much better without forcing it in. Also cps (characters per second) was a concern here.

-----

元気な友達がいるね。

Your friend has quite the personality.

元気 (genki). What a word! Often translated as “energetic”. So often in fact, that even before I checked, I knew that the ohtori.nu translation would have used it, and sure enough!

Your friend is very energetic. (from ohtori.nu)

Along with “eyesore” and “confession (of love)”, this might take the bronze medal for common Japanese words that consistently get translated into very uncommon English words.

Of course, 元気 can literally mean “having a lot of energy”, or simply “well” (as in the opposite of “unwell”). But “energetic” is just such a bad translation for it 90% of the time. I wish I could convey why in words, but in most contexts, the word 元気 and the word “energetic” just feel so different.

Anyway, 元気 has quite a positive nuance, which emphasises the passive aggressiveness of Touga’s comment. The intent with this line is that he’s giving a vague compliment to Wakaba, indirectly (talking about her as if she’s not there), and making it clear that he wishes she wasn’t around. Everything else about the line should be secondary, including the specific meanings of each word.

I think this is emblematic of my general approach to translation — to identify the author’s original intent of a line/scene/work and then write it in a different language with the same intent in mind. Every line, every scene, is trying to do something — I believe it’s the translator’s job to identify what each line and scene is supposed to be doing and preserve that, so media literacy is very important. Sometimes that line is doing exposition, in which case a literal translation of each word is often ideal. Sometimes that line is trying to evoke a feeling, establish a character, or make the audience remember similar experiences, in which case the individual words used matter much less. In this case, the line is attempting to invoke memories of similar experiences of passive aggressive, dismissive comments. And frankly, “Your friend is very energetic” does not do that, so I consider it a poor translation.

-----

Thanks as always to my ride or die @dontbe-lasanya for their awesome editing this episode (and every episode!)

Make sure to follow the blog for episodes as they're released. Go here for all previous episodes:

[goddessofroyalty]

Hey! I binge read all of your Work/Life Balance fic last night and loved it. The way you kept them in character was amazing. For Viktor, I could hear his lines in my head in his voice.

I saw you were still low-key taking prompts for it. An idea came to mind about Viktor's own reaction to finding out he was pregnant? Especially to be about 3 months when he found out?(If I mathed correctly lol) I know you alluded to his whole "testing multiple pregnancy tests" but I think it would be interesting to see his full reaction, coming to terms with it, and potentially his failed attempts to tell Jayce because it wasn't the perfect time?

Prompt Idea: Viktor's reaction to actually finding out he is pregnant and the failed attempts to tell Jayce that you mentioned in Work/Life Balance? Idk, just kinda think it would be cute

Glad you enjoyed the fic! I think I got all the parts of these two prompts.

In the version of the final scene in my head before I wrote it Jayce actually kept going out and getting a new pregnancy test after the previous ones positive. I feel like what I’ve gone with is possibly funnier (and a lot less repetitive to write/read).

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, thoughts/concerns about miscarriage

-------------

The nurse hands Viktor a pregnancy test with the same amount of enthusiasm as she had the paperwork.

It is the correct amount of enthusiasm given the circumstances.

Nobody actually thinks he is pregnant. The doctors having years ago had the conversation with him about how, with his health, he would very likely be unable to conceive. They had been so gentle with their words and moved the tissue box closer with them despite how little it had actually bothered him. Relationships and children barely worth a thought compared to his work.

Policy dictates that, as he is being sexually active, they must check to be sure before doing any scans that may harm a fetus if he was carrying one.

He’d just lie about it if it wasn’t for how Jayce’s habit of scenting him every opportunity he can means half the time the box is already ticked before he’s even handed the form.

So Viktor takes the cup and the paper-wrapped stick to the bathroom and waits the ten minutes it takes for the little negative sign to appear so the nurse can tick the box on the form that says, yes, they checked, and Viktor can return to his notepad while he waits his turn. His plans for what work he should be able to get done after his appointment is finished well-formed when the results finally show up.

Viktor grabs the piece of plastic and only pauses to look at the thing because it doesn’t seem to be the familiar negative he knows.

Probably just a different brand than they usually get.

He digs the instructions out of the bin just to be sure.

After unfolding and refolding the leaflet so just the bit with what the results mean is on the front he holds the instructions in one hand and test in the other. Comparing the results against which means what.

Pregnant.

The two lines in that exact position apparently mean he’s pregnant.

When they had first started making him take them Viktor had looked up the reliability of them hoping for some argument that they were a waste of everyone’s time. It hadn’t succeeded at his goal at the time but had left him with the knowledge that false positives were basically impossible.

He is, apparently, pregnant.

He returns to the front desk in the reception on autopilot. Standing before the bored-looking receptionist who expects him to tell her that the test was negative as expected and that she can finish checking him in for the scan.

Because he shouldn’t be pregnant.

He can’t be pregnant.

Yes, perhaps, maybe he and Jayce were not as diligent with protection as they could be. Sometimes they got caught up in their excitement of their latest breakthrough and getting the condoms the last thing on their minds. But nothing should have come from it because Viktor’s body had never been healthy enough to even give him a consistent heat schedule.

“I will have to cancel my appointment today,” Viktor says. Only realizing he had brought the test with him when he clenches the hand not holding his cane and feels the plastic dig into his skin.

The receptionist opens her mouth to no doubt ask why he would need to cancel when he’s already there for it. A flash of surprise crosses her face as she no-doubt remembers what she had had him do and the obvious conclusion of the two pieces of information she has before returning to professional friendliness.

“Of course. Let us know if you need to rebook.”

She doesn’t say congratulations or any of the other things you are apparently meant to when somebody informs you they are pregnant, which is good, because Viktor doesn’t know how would respond.

“Yes, of course,” he says with a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

The smile she gives is devoid of any excitement or judgement. The smile of a professional who has been taught that something like this can mean something very different to different patients.

Viktor shuffles out of the clinic, ignoring the bored stares of the others in the waiting room until he is out on the street. The pregnancy test still in hand.

He tosses it into the first bin he finds of course. It is very unhygienic to carry around something that has had his urine on it. Keeping it with him won’t change the situation. If he needs evidence when he tells Jayce he can always take another one.

How is he ever going to tell Jayce?

No.

No he needs to be realistic. False positives are impossible but it may be a case that an embryo was created and implanted before his body rejected it. A reminder that they should stop being lax about the condoms. There no point mentioning it to Jayce if that is the case.

No, first Viktor should book an appointment to test again under doctor’s supervision. By then if it was just a momentary thing the hormones will have cleared from his system and he can forget all about it.

There is no need to get Jayce involved yet.

-----------------

“When was your last heat?” the doctor asks after Viktor returns from peeing on another stick that does not return the expected negative despite it having been long enough since the scan appointment that had it been an immediate miscarriage any residual hormones should have left his system.

“A year ago.” His heats had never been regular so skipping three was hardly a cause for suspicion or concern.

The doctor’s brow furrows because a lack of an obvious heat makes it harder to figure out any kind of timeline of conception.

“Have you experienced any bleeding?”

“No.” Not that it really proved anything from the reading Viktor had done after the initial positive result. If his body had rejected the pregnancy early enough it is easy for even omegas to miss the resulting passing.

“Has there been a single incident of your contraception methods failing?” the doctor asks. “For example, did the condom break during-“

“Eh-“ Viktor grimaces because there wasn’t really a single incident of a condom breaking but rather a common enough occurrence of them forgoing using one entirely.

“Right,” the doctor says, thankfully saving Viktor from having to say it. “In that case I think it is best to arrange an ultrasound to confirm if there is any evidence of pregnancy, and, if there is, how far along.”

Viktor nods as he tries to figure out where to fit another appointment in with the new project. It would be far easier if Jayce was around more instead of being dragged around by councilors and investors in wherever their whims take them.

“I also wouldn’t suggest informing anyone about this,” the doctor continues. “You may be very early into a pregnancy, and, with your other health concerns-“

There is a good chance he still may miscarry. No reason to bring it up with Jayce until they are more certain.

“Of course.”

-------------

“Have you told your alpha yet?” the ultrasound technician asks as she smears gel over Viktor’s exposed stomach.

“No.” there is no point considering it would likely end in miscarriage.

“Well that’s hardly fair to keep all the excitement to yourself,” the technician says as she reaches over for the ultrasound, moving it around his stomach clearly searching for his uterus.

“It is still early. I will tell him once it is far enough along to not be likely to miscarry.”

“You shouldn’t think like that!” the technician says, glancing at him quickly before returning her attention to the screen.

“I am just being realistic.” A pregnancy does not necessarily mean you will end up with a baby. Especially not if one’s health is like Viktor’s.

“So you are just going to keep it to yourself until you’re 3 months along?” the technician asks, her movements less broad. Likely trying to find any evidence of a very early pregnancy.

“Yes.” Things are easier that way.

“In that case you’re gonna’ want to figure out how to tell him,” she says before spinning around the screen so he can see his uterus and the baby-shaped blog within in. “Because three months is about where’d I put you. Congratulations.”

Viktor likely wouldn’t have believed her if he couldn’t see it with his own eyes. Which is probably why she showed him the screen. But, sure enough, there it was. Not a full baby but also not a bundle of cells of a new implantation.

“I haven’t had any symptoms.” Nothing that made him think anything had changed other than his sickness.

“Some people get lucky like that,” the technician says with a shrug. She presses a button on the screen that causes it to pause on the images while she removes the ultrasound from his stomach and offers him a tissue to wipe the gel off. Her hand suddenly resting on his knee. “I’ll arrange for a printout for you at the front desk. Maybe that’ll help you with telling your alpha yeah?”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know if a print out of an ultrasound will actually help him tell Jayce but he supposes it is better to have it and not need it than not have it.

--------------

Viktor stands in front of the mirror in just his boxers staring at the reflection of his still completely flat stomach. His hands running along it feeling for any sign of a swell that could be the baby that was apparently in there and finding nothing.

It always takes longer for omega men to show, the ultrasound technician had said with a laugh like he was stupid for asking how he could possibly be 3 months along without a single outward sign. Your hips hold everything a bit further back. I wouldn’t worry through. Give it a couple weeks and you’ll have a bump for you and your alpha to fall in love with.

It still doesn’t feel real though. Not even with the print out of the scan that shows the very real fetus apparently resting in his uterus.

The door swings open but Jayce immediately turns around when he notices Viktor’s state of undress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realis you were changing,” Jayce says despite the fact they have both seen each other completely naked. The fact that they had managed to make a baby together, even if Jayce doesn’t know that piece of information yet.

“It is fine,” Viktor says, grabbing his shirt and quickly buttoning it up on himself. It’s ridiculous, if Viktor can’t see any evidence of pregnancy there is no way Jayce will. But the idea of Jayce finding out before Viktor has the chance when it is clear Viktor should know is unpleasant.

Viktor grabs his cane from where he had hung it over the edge of the desk. Shoving the scan printout under some notes as he does.

“You can look now,” Viktor says because Jayce clearly isn’t going to unless he’s told he can.

Jayce turns around immediately. Beaming at Viktor in his fond way.

“Does this mean you’ll be joining the dinner tonight?”

“What? No! I was just-“ trying to see if he could see their baby. Which, if he were to tell Jayce now, would not see the alpha attending the dinner either. And while Viktor does not actually care about stealing Piltover’s Golden Boy from his adoring fans, Jayce’s growing social requirements are an necessary evil for their progress. “It does not matter. I will not be attending.”

“Come on Vik, please, for me,” Jayce says, coming over to wrap his arms around Viktor. He easily slots his head onto Viktor’s shoulder, the pout on his face reflected back on them in the mirror. “You can’t force me to go to another one alone.”

“I think you will find I can,” Viktor says, but leans into the warmth of Jayce’s body. “Anyway, they do not want me there.”

“I want you there.” Jayce’s grip tightens as he nuzzles against Viktor’s neck more like a young pup than the proud alpha he is. “Please Viktor.”

“I-“ could cause a scandal if he really wanted to. Drop the news halfway through the party when the gaggle of over-interested omegas swarm Jayce in the hopes of winning his attention. Have all of Piltover talking by morning. “-have work to do.”

It is hard for Jayce to argue with that. Their work as important to him as it is Viktor.

“It’s unfair you know,” Jayce says as he draws away, fixing his coast in the mirror. He looks every bit the charismatic leader Piltover imagines him to be. “That you get to stay in our lab working while I have to keep listening to the same conversation about the weather all night.”

“That is the price you pay for being the face of progress.”

“Not funny Vik,” Jayce says, but leans down for a quick kiss all the same. “I’ll try and sneak out and join you after the first round of being introduced to everyone.”

“Do not do anything that would have Councilor Kirramman unhappy with you.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll get Cait to cover for me,” Jayce promises before slipping out to head to the event.

--------------

Strong arms wrap around Viktor as he stands in front of the blackboard in their lab. Jayce’s head coming to rest against the top of his as the warmth of the alpha’s body seeps through the back of Viktor’s clothes.

“I missed you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s hair. Nuzzling into it was if it is at all an effective way to pick up someone’s scent so far away from any of the actual scent-glands. “You smell good.”

Viktor tenses at that. Of course the pregnancy would be starting to affect his scent, making him even more appealing to his alpha in a biological attempt to keep their support there for the pregnancy and hopefully beyond. If he was as far along as he apparently was it’s surprising it hadn’t started to change already. And Jayce is not stupid. He will likely realize what could be causing it.

It might work in Viktor’s favor though. Let Jayce figure it out and claim ignorance.

All he has to do is act surprised. He can do that.

“Sorry,” Jayce says, drawing away. “I didn’t mean to break your focus.”

He didn’t think anything of the change in scent then.

“It is fine.” Nothing ground breaking had been happening. “Are you finished for the day?”

Viktor could just tell him about the pregnancy. It is not as if there is anything he cannot pause for the afternoon.

“I wish,” Jayce says with a whine. “I have another meeting in an hour. I just wanted to come check on- ah- our work!”

There will be no telling him today than.

“In that case there is something I wanted your opinion on,” Viktor says because he will take what he can get of Jayce’s mind before he has to hand him back to Piltover’s elites.

---------------

“Jayce do you have a minute?” Viktor asks on what is becoming a rare afternoon where Jayce can just stay in the lab without having to run off to some social engagement or investors meeting. Nothing that he need not be distracted for.

“Yeah, of course,” Jayce says, dropping what he is working on to come over. He leans over Viktor’s shoulders to examine what he is working on, expecting it to be about that. “What do you need?”

“What I need is to tell you something.” Viktor can feel how Jayce almost freezes at it. The alpha’s attention now fully on him.

Viktor wonders what Jayce thinks he’s going to tell him. Likely not that he is pregnant.

Before Viktor can find the words the door to the lab swings open and Mel hurries in with a hustle that is as close as Viktor thinks he’s ever seen her do to running.

“Oh good you’re here – I need you to talk to the new investor.”

“What? Why?” Jayce asks, craning his neck to look over to Mel but not moving from where he is leant over Viktor.

“He has concerns about the safety of the Hexgates and is threatening to pull funding as a result.”

“That is ridiculous. The Gates are perfectly safe!” Heimerdinger wouldn’t have let them go ahead if they weren’t.

“I know that! But he isn’t being convinced by me. I have him in a room and he’s agreed to discuss with you first, but, we do not have much time before he walks.”

“Go,” Viktor says before Jayce can think about refusing. “My news can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The pregnancy isn’t going anywhere but the investor apparently is.

---------------

“You deserve this more than I do,” Jayce says, holding out a drink to Viktor now they have both returned home from the investors meeting where they displayed their latest prototype. An identical glass in his other hand. “You did more of the work than I did.”

“You kept the investors happy.” Viktor would also rather Jayce in the lab with him but somebody has to be the face of their work and Jayce is far better suited for it than Viktor. “And, ah, none for me.”

Alcohol and pregnancy do not mix. Not that Jayce knows about that fact yet. The two barely getting to spend more than a moment together the last few weeks.

“You can take one night off to celebrate,” Jayce says still holding the glass out.

They do have the night off. The project finished and investors and council happy. Nothing that needs to be done that cannot wait until morning. Nothing he might be taking Jayce away from by telling him about the pregnancy.

“It is not that,” Viktor says, meeting Jayce’s eyes and the adorably puzzled expression. “I cannot drink at the moment on account of, eh, being pregnant.”

The surprise that overtakes Jayce’s face is exactly what Viktor expected all the times he thought about telling him.

“What?”

“I am pregnant,” Viktor confirms.

“Really?” Jayce asks, glancing down at Viktor’s stomach which remains completely flat.

“Yes. The doctors are quite sure.” Viktor wouldn’t be telling Jayce if they weren’t.

“The doctors?” Jayce asks before realization crosses his face, because he does actually know of Viktor’s frequent medical appointments – partners and all. “Right. Of course just-“

Jayce puts the two glasses back on the counter and runs a hand through his hair and this is exactly why Viktor hadn’t told him right before he had another obligation. It would be cruel to send him into a council meeting in the level of shock he is in.

“I-“ Jayce starts, before swallowing and nodding, having made up his mind about something. “Wait here.”

“Wait- what?” Viktor asks as Jayce grabs his coat and heads to the door. “Jayce where are you going?”

“I just need to get something. Don’t go anyway!” Jayce says before racing out the door leaving Viktor alone in the apartment.

“Don’t go anyway. Why would I go anywhere?” Viktor asks to nobody but himself. Sighing before making his way over to the couch to sit and wait for Jayce to return. Setting his cane down beside him.

He is sure Jayce will return and not just because it is his apartment Viktor currently is in. Yes, he’s heard stories of Piltover alphas seeming head over heels for an omega in Zaun only to vanish as soon as a pregnancy is in the picture, but Jayce isn’t like that. Their work, at least, is far too important for him to abandon.

“Can you not inherit his recklessness?” Viktor asks his still flat stomach as he leans back on the cushions and waits.

The door swings open at Jayce’s hast when he returns. The alpha not wasting time taking his coat off, instead rushing to where Viktor is and all-but slamming a handful pregnancy tests on the coffee-table.

“I know you said the doctors are sure,” Jayce rambles before Viktor gets the chance to say anything. “But please, for me?”

It makes sense with Jayce being who he is that he would want tangible proof of his own. And, really, it is not that arduous for Viktor to indulge him this.

“Can I have some water first?” Five tests will require a rather high amount of urine from him after all.

[sonkitty]

No?

This post was last updated 05/12/2025.

Long story short, I'm working on some questions.

Among those questions is, "Did Crowley know about Gabriel and Beelzebub?"

To elaborate, I mean, did he know before the events of S2E6 when everyone else, including seemingly him, had a reaction of seeming to realize it then?

If he did know, how far back does this knowledge go? When did he figure it out?

So, one of the lines I chose to study on this question is the following from Nina: "But then again, other people's love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own."

I went through every word, and I am not going to go over that here because it was a rather involved process, but one of the results was that the Metatron kept popping up as a character to get the last time some of these words were said (again, people, always, so, much, own).

So, I figured I should look at his dialogue to see if I could figure anything out, in more general terms for the story, and the first word he says is, "No."

Fine, who is the last character to say the exact word, "No"?

Aziraphale.

Alright, how many times can I find "no" in a search? 898.

Yikes.

I forget what led me to check the last time the Metatron said it, but I did, and he says "no" 5 times as the last time he says the word.

Now, you see, Crowley says "no" repeatedly after he talks to Beelzebub, and I had been putting off giving it a count because even if I did count it, what would the resulting number even tell me for if he knew?

I mean, I can already kind of see it because after the summon ends, the main physical action and touch he takes is to cover up his eyes. The word "eye" sounds like, "I," so it's like "I know," further supported by the word "know" being said twice in the previous sentence with "know" being the last word in that sentence. The space seems to have sent Crowley back from Hell to his car sooner than Crowley intended.

But, fine, fine. I could be wrong and reaching for things. I do that plenty in my play of Earthly Objects.

Counting the repeats would be easier than going over 898 instances where a lot of those are "no" being embedded into other words.

You know what I found out?

The official subtitles repeatedly lie about how many times "no," is said when a character repeats the word more than twice, especially when Crowley does it.

This issue is not consistent, but it does look calculated, as in deliberate, given what the lies themselves are.

I have checked these things the best I can, but as a reminder, I do make mistakes and have to make judgment calls for this type of thing.

Before I go over these things by the count and upward, let's review two of the lies for Crowley that greatly contributed to why I just kept checking the whole thing.

So, how many times does Crowley say "no" after his summon ended with Beelzebub? He said it 7 times. The subtitles say he said it 8. I repeatedly checked myself. See, one of the reasons this lie is notable and irritating is because the subtitles also lie about the repeated "blah" usage between Crowley and Muriel in S2E5. When I decided to check their "blah" words myself, I finally, finally got the proper answer for how they tricked the Heaven elevator.

So, now I have to check every repeat "no" usage?

If I want to play the game, yes.

And I want to play, so here I go.

Fine; I've got my number of interest: 7.

I know a few other places 7 catches my attention, but I'm not looking at those yet.

I'm filing away this information as I look to the other usage.

The next time "no" is repeatedly used is quite conveniently when Crowley talks to Gabriel, telling him to stay inside the bookshop.

How many times does he say "no"?

Quite possibly....14. That would be double the 7 from after talking to Beelzebub!

Am I sure? No, but I am as sure as I can capably get on my own because I checked that thing repeatedly. I know I'm biased. I know the I answer I want, and I know I have to be on guard for seeing what I want to see in this game.

Meanwhile, the subtitles say Crowley says "no" 10 times. He does not.

Additionally, it is between the seventh and the eighth "no," where these words are most clearly said. The eighth "no," is the clearest of the whole batch. That would be the start of the second half of fourteen, if I am correct. Close to the end of Crowley saying these words, they run close together, which makes the counting difficult.

That noted, let's move onto the truths and the lies the subtitles give us on the times "no," is said repeatedly.

Anytime a character says "no," twice in a row, the subtitles are telling the truth about how many times it was said.

Aziraphale: Although, ah, actually, no, no. If anyone asks, you're not Gabriel.

Aziraphale: No, no, uh. Short for James.

Aziraphale: No, no. Naturally not.

Aziraphale: No! No. [This is in response to Crowley saying, "Doesn't mean we're on the same side".]

Gabriel: No, no. They can arrive in any size.

Aziraphale: Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit.

Aziraphale: No. No, I suppose not. Um... You haven't actually been selling any of the books, have you?

Furfur: No, no, it's perfect. I've spent all morning processing 52 men called Otto.

Crowley: Oh, no, no, it's not-- it's not like that.

Uriel: No, no. That's Aziraphale himself, he likes books.

Now we move onto the times "no" is said 3 times in a row.

Here are the times the subtitles tell the truth:

Crawley: No, no no. Not Ennon, Job. Ennon's gone.

This one is highly questionable because the third "no" is extremely hard to hear if you take the time to check closely. I actually had it as a lie, and it might actually be in how the "o" isn't clear enough on the third "no."

Aziraphale: No, no, no. It's the right thing to do.

The two lies of this group:

Crowley: No, no, no alarm bells ringing in Heaven.

The subtitles list the "no," as happening only once. Crowley said it 3 times.

Aziraphale: No, no, no, it's alright. I've found my showstopper. How much is it?

The subtitles lied and say he only says "no" twice. He says it 3 times. This part is the one and only time the subtitles lie about Aziraphale using the word repeatedly. He has no other repeat uses that go over the 3.

Now we move onto the one time the word "no," is said 4 times in a row, and it is a lie:

Crowley: No, no. No. No. Get humans wet and staring into each other's eyes, vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.

The subtitles show the word "no" 5 times. Crowley says it fully 4 times, not 5. The first "no" is followed up with an "n" sound but never reaches the "o" part of the pronunciation.

Now we move onto the times the word "no," is said 5 times in a row.

A lie is first:

Shopkeeper: No, no, no, no, no. I'm afraid that's not for you, sir. What about this?

The subtitles lie and show the word "no" 3 times. The shopkeeper says it 5 times, not 3.

Here are the two truths:

Crowley: No, no, no, no, no war. Aziraphale, let's sort this out. Where's the cardboard box?

The Metatron: Oh, don't be silly! No, no, no, no, no. There's only one candidate who makes even the slightest bit of sense. And that's you.

Now we move onto the two times the word "no," is said 6 times in a row.

Back when I first made this post, I did my best to get these counts correct, but I found a mistake. I had Elspeth saying "no" 7 times, and as such, that 6 times in a row only happened once.

I have repeatedly checked with a slowed down video and listening to find that Elspeth actually says it 6 times in a row, not 7 as I thought.

Here is the lie from Elspeth instead of Crowley.

Elspeth: No! No! No, no, no, no, no! What did you do that for? You'll kill yourself!

The subtitles lie and show the "no" 5 times as "No! No, no, no, no, no!", so it cuts one of the more defined first two instances. Elspeth said the word "no" 6 times in a row, not 5.

The second example of saying the word "no" 6 times in a row is quite the alert when thinking about the 7 with Beelzebub. Please keep in mind that a part of this initial study was looking at this line said by Nina, "But then again, other people's love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own."

For further context, I am looking at this line because of a very hesitant and highly questionable idea that got into my head. I pondered if maybe possibly, quite unlikely, that Crowley's reaction isn't about himself; it's about Gabriel and maybe Beelzebub. If true, that still doesn't really fit since he said that "no" 7 times in S2E1, so I don't have the pieces fitting.

Still, the idea running in my head is, "Did Crowley know about them and if so, when?"

Here it is:

Crowley: Oh, yeah, yeah, no, no, no, no, no, no, I know. You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you wanted?

Did you see what happened there? Crowley, maybe, told us, "Yeah, I know." This scene takes place shortly after Nina said that particular "love lives" line.

The subtitles lie again. The subtitles actually say, "Oh, yeah, yeah, no, no, no, no, no. You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you wanted?" The subtitles give a "no" 5 times instead of 6 and cut the ending part that says, "I know," which has a seventh "no" embedded into the word "know," provided you focus on "know" having the same pronunciation as "no". The word "now" also has "no" embedded in it. Is he saying, "Yeah, I know now"? If he is, that doesn't fit with the other pieces I'm finding, but I've noted it in case I can ever make further sense of that.

This one is the chronologically last lie on the "no" count to further drive the point home.

We're not done. We still have more to go on this study.

Now we move onto the two times the word "no," is said 7 times in a row. One is a truth, and one is a lie.

We've already discussed the second lie, so I'll just remind you of it here first.

Crowley: I don't know anything about this, but I'll absolutely let you know. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Aziraphale, what have you done?

The subtitles list the "no" 8 times. Crowley said it 7 times. Additionally, the preceding sentence had the word "know" in it twice where Crowley is acting as if he does not know.

Here is the example where the subtitles show the true number of times Crowley said the word:

Crawley: Oh no, no, no, no, no. No, no jokes. These goats belong to Job, right?

The subtitles list the word "no," 7 times, and Crowley said it 7 times.

Remember, Beelzebub is the Lord of the Flies.

In this same scene where the "no," is said 7 times...and I'm really downplaying how amazing this clue is by placing it here in this post, but so be it....in this scene, Crawley got the goats he turned into crows to...FLY. Get it? The word "fly" is the singular form of the word "flies."

After that, we've stopped incrementing by one. We had at least one example for 3 through 7 and maybe a 2 was intended for "No, no no. Not Ennon, Job. Ennon's gone" because the third "no" might not have its "o" clear enough. There is nothing above 7 and below 14, provided I have the 14 correct on the part with Gabriel in the scene to hide him.

The first five episodes have at least one lie, if I'm correct, or correct enough, on my Crowley example for episode 2.

Crowley does not use the word "no" repeatedly in episode 3 or 4, so the subtitles lie for the 3 other characters.

The sixth episode has Crowley and the Metatron saying the word "no," repeatedly, and both times the subtitles show the true number of times it is said.

I haven't figured out how the Metatron himself connects to the whole thing, but he is shown to be part of it through the clues I'm finding.

There are actually plenty of other clues that Crowley knew about Gabriel and Beelzebub. I hope to go over them sometime, provided this silly game still keeps my interest.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Tell me, what did you think of ML when you first discovered it? I thought Chloe's arc in season 2 was decent for this type of show, even if it could have been better. I also never took Marinette's obsessive behavior over Adrien that seriously until it started getting really grating.

My first interaction with ML consisted of me looking for kids shows to watch in Spanish, finding Miraculous on Netflix, watching maybe three minutes of The Bubbler, and then turning the show off because it didn't seem very good. That's the episode that starts with Marinette freaking out about giving Adrien a birthday present and it gave me the impression that Miraculous was doing the classic female-protagonist-pines-for-the-male-protagonist-who-barely-even-knows-her-name trope, which is not a trope that I'm into. I'm way too ace for that shit. This is the scene in question as I looked it up to make sure I was remembering it correctly:

Marinette: Ah! (she stops right in front of Adrien.) Um, he-- Hey! (she gets nervous as she holds her gift behind her back.) Adrien:(surprised, shyly) Hey. Chloé:(as she watches what's happening outside) Wait! Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? Don't tell me it's Adrien's birthday?! Sabrina:(checks her tablet, gets surprised, and makes excusing noises while smiling sheepishly.) Chloé:(facepalms) Ugh, do I have to do everything myself? Seriously, what are you good for? (walks toward Adrien.) Marinette:(nervously) I, uh, I wanted to, umm, gift you a make-– I mean, gift you a give I made-- I mean... Chloé:(yawns while Marinette is talking and then shoves her away) Out of the way. (she acts sweet.) Happy birthday, Adrien! (throws herself onto him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.) Mwah! Adrien:(surprised) Yeah, thanks Chlo.

This backs up my vague memory that my initial assumption was that Adrien and Chloé were friends while Adrien didn't know who Marinette was because he was clearly much more comfortable with Chloé. Same goes for Nino who was talking to Adrien earlier in this scene.

I'm not sure when this first watch occurred, but I know it was at least a year before I revisited the show. I made a friend in another fandom and that friend was transitioning out of Miraculous, but they had a lot of really good Miraculous fanart and even some fanfic which got me curious as I couldn't understand why anyone would be into the show given my dismal initial impression.

On this friend's recommendation, my SO and I started watching Miraculous an episode or two at a time. I was pretty unimpressed with the actual show, but I started reading early fandom fanfic between our watching sessions and that kept me interested enough to keep watching. My initial impression of the show didn't really change until we watched Origins. That's the episode that really made me fall in love with the canon characters as it took everything about the show and elevated it. The crushes had depth! The Chloé/Adrien thing wasn't just the bitchy rich girl going after the popular boy! Gabriel was confirmed to be the big bad! Things were suddenly going places and that honestly wasn't surprising.

It's incredibly common for kids shows to have lackluster first seasons where they don't really commit to anything major re plot because they're just testing the waters to see if they'll be green lit for more seasons. Because of this, I was under the impression that Origins must have been when they got green lit and season two was going to do the standard kids show thing where they really get to dive into the plot and characters in a big way now that they're making money. This assumption was backed up by the addition of the new heroes to the show's intro.

For the first half of season two, I was invested as it seemed like we were finally getting seasonal arcs. Chloé seemed to be getting set up for some sort of character arc, which I was all for as I enjoy a good mean girl arc. We also had some tension brewing between our heroes with Fu favoring Marinette, a dynamic that felt more accidental than planned since it only happened because Marinette found the grimoire at the end of season one. I thought all of that was going to come to a head with Chloé's Queen Bee debut as things had seemingly been set up for Chloé to be Adrien's pick for a Miraculous.

Then Queen Bee actually happened and my excitement quickly faded. I still cannot think of a less interesting way for Chloé to get and use the bee. No one gives it to her and she outs herself on national television right away? Talk about wasting an idea. Clearly this had just been a one-off thing done so that the show could drive up hype for season two based on promo images of Chloé as a hero.

But it wasn't a one off thing. For some reason, they kept bringing Queen Bee back and that's when I knew we were in for a bad time because that should have never happened. It especially shouldn't have happened when Marinette was giving out the miraculous. I could maybe see a setup where Adrien gives Chloé a second chance, but Marinette trusting Chloé made no sense:

Marinette: I must choose someone who's not impressed by people in power. Who can help me trap Malediktator. Huh?! Of course! That's it. (reaches for the Miraculous of the Bee) Wait, what am I thinking? (facepalms)

Yeah, what are you thinking? Alya was your first choice for the bee, she isn't impressed by people in power, and she wasn't hit by Malediktator, so go grab her! Why would you pick Chloé?

Long story short, I kept watching because the show wasn't terrible, my SO enjoyed hearing me dunk on it as we watched it, and I was really enjoying the fan content, but I didn't have much faith in canon after the midpoint of season two and I continually lost faith as the seasons progressed. I never pictured it getting as bad as seasons five, but I only had hopes for Miraculous to be truly good for about 2 weeks as that's how long it took us to get from Origins to the Queen Bee mess. I was also disappointed by Alya and Nino's hero journeys. I expected them to be chosen for grander reasons. As is, it felt like they only got recruited because their loved ones were in danger.

Since you brought up Marinette's crush, I'll end by saying that I have never been a fan of that style of crush-based humor (once again, way too ace for that shit), but it didn't bother me in a serious way because it was very obviously meant to be humorous. I just suffered through the jokes when they happened and then moved on as there was no reason to dwell on them. It probably helped that I was reading a lot of fanfic and even the people who love the show generally agree that Marinette's crush should be played down in more serious stories.

The only time Marinette's crush bothered me was Derision as that episode straight up destroyed her character. It also made the writers look awful because they made Kim the bad guy for laughing at Marinette's behavior, but we'd just spent over four seasons being told Marinette's behavior was a joke, so what is the lesson here? Are we all supposed to feel guilty for laughing at a trauma response we didn't know was a trauma response? Are the writers saying that trauma is funny? How can you be so tone deaf?

[strawberrypinky]

fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part one [of tyranny and chaos]

Enver had rarely been wrong about people throughout his rise to power, yet Elodie Liardon was the gift that kept on giving. She was his equal in every way & he would go through to great lengths to ensure she'd be at his side when the world became his.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as easily convinced.

A/N: I think it goes without saying that I don't support or endorse anything Gortash does in this story. He's a terrible person & evil. That said, he's hot & this is also my first time writing a villain as the main character - I am not yet sure where this story is going to head in certain aspects. The warnings are subject to change, so make sure to check them out as this story progresses. This story may feature non con down the line. Also, I'm not an expert in DnD lore – a lot of this is based on my own research & interpretations & I'm taking a few creative liberties with this story, e.g. the Council of Four. Canonically, the Council of Four consist of Ulder Ravengard (Wyll's father), Dillard Portyr, Belynne Stelmane and Thalamra Vanthampur. For the sake of this story, Vanthampur is replaced with Thamior Liardon aka our heroine's father. The age difference between Elodie and Enver is fairly large. She is about Wyll's age when the canon events start (24), whereas I headcanon Enver to be around 40 years old. This chapter takes place about five years before the canon events, making Elodie 19 and Enver 35. You can also read this story on Archive of Our Own This chapter serves as an introduction to both Elodie and Enver. Shoutout to @gufu-vire for giving me some serious dialogue inspiration & supporting this messy project from the start 💕 And of course shoutout to my platonic soulmate @legacygirlingreen. I couldn't do any of this without you girl 💕 Word Count: 7k

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

Ordinarily, Enver enjoyed the splendour of the Upper City and the extravaganza of what the night brought. 

It wasn't that he particularly cared for exuberant soirees or merriment among the Patriars and Lords of Baldur's Gate, but because the ceaseless inebriation meant they all became cursory - revealing their Achilles Heel to Enver on a silver platter.

All that was left to do for him was shoot and observe as they crumpled beneath their fragmented invulnerability. 

He had long learned not to underestimate the value of thinly veiled threats and carefully curated negotiations. Enver's upbringing in Avernus had ensured at least that much. It had been a miserable existence at best, though the unyielding fists of Nubaldin and the narcissistic ornery of Raphael were better described as castigatory crucifixion, and for the longest time, he had been sure he'd succumb to it. The bloodied and blazing wastelands of Avernus were scarcely the sight any sane being would wish to wake up to, but for a near decade, Enver had been greeted by rivulets of lava and barren hills whenever he had opened his eyes to the unending torment of the House of Hope and while the lavish grandeur of Raphael's home would forever outshine most of the Patriars estates, it could never hide the insanity that transpired within its walls. An existence surrounded by infernal creatures was a fickle thing, rarely monotonous as the days had bled into one. Sleep had been a scarce rarity to come by as screams of tortured souls and beggars and the everlasting sonorousness of the Blood War penetrated even into the dungeons of the paradoxical House of Hope. It was madness incarnate, and Enver would nearly count himself as fortunate not to have gone mad.

Yet, in his most forlorn and reticent moments, there was a mocking voice in his head, a reminder that the abject terrors of Avernus had rendered him just as mad and just as hateful. His mother would have likely argued he had always been a hateful little wretch, having loathed his entire existence from the second he had taken his first breath after the agonising three-day labour he had "put her through".  Perhaps she had been right. He was so very full of it. 

Enver came to think of his hatred as his strength, his source of being and the flame that drove him forward - A testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City. 

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets.At the very least, it also provided a start to more extraordinary things. 

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him. 

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent —  hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

And through him, Enver Gortash would rise like a phoenix from the ashes until the world was his, and his subjects would tremble in fear of his God as they were destined to be.

With Bane, it had been almost frighteningly easy to oust the Zhentarim from the weapon market to take control over the entirety of the Chinonthar Valley black market, but his hatred demanded more with each passing second. No matter which ventures Enver took upon, he succeeded – his loathing endless and his greed all-consuming. 

Perhaps in another life, Enver would have felt fulfilled, escaping from the Hells.

Perhaps in another life, he would have been content with leading the weapons trade.

In this life, he knew he'd never be. Sated, perhaps, when all bowed before his glorious might. But certainly never satisfied. 

The gentility of Baldur's Gate understood him well enough, even if they buried it deep beneath false charity and fascicle philanthropy. Beneath the masks they had carefully curated, they were all as spiteful as him. They all craved control over one another to assert themselves as the leaders they had made themselves out to be. Extravagant soirees, glittering jewels and extortionate gossip defined their haughty measuring of dicks. It was an ecosystem in and of itself, one which was all too easy to mould once the first step had been taken. It had taken a few years of sweet-talking, of extorting and of fucking them, but Enver was nothing if not patient. He was one of them now, and hardly anything else mattered but the next step. It was why he attended these lavish parties in the first place, even when his mood had been sour for the better part of the day.

The bitch queen's waveservants had distracted his sailors, and while Enver knew they hadn't half of his wits, he had expected they could think with their smooth brains instead of their minuscule dicks. A mistake on his part, really. As a result of their inadequacy his cargo had been seized and half his posse incarcerated. Far from uncommon in his line of work, but it was troublesome just the same. 

After an entire day of  negotiating  for their (undeserved) freedom, Enver had half a mind to drown himself in Arabellan Dry. Unfortunately for him, it was the night of  The Breaking,  and his attendance was crucial.  The Rah of Baldur's Gate was rarely  ever  found in a gathering this grand,  and it provided ample opportunity for Enver to further his ambitions.  

The moment he stepped through the grand, gilded doors of High Hall, he was enveloped by a cacophony of drunken laughter and chattering. The glittering melody of an orchestra filled the halls, a sickeningly joyous melody commemorating the arrival of spring. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of expensive cologne and plum prosecco. Enver had wrinkled his nose in distaste. The awful concoction was a true scourge these days. He could only hope some Baldur's Grape was available, too. Otherwise, this would be an arduous night.

There was a faint and underlying mustiness to the halls, the gallery illuminated by twinkling chandeliers casting an ethereal glow over the old halls. The decor was befitting the occasion — elegant pieces of silver and sage adorn the room's tables, ceilings, and elaborate mouldings. The flower arrangements were fragrant and intricate, likely having cost a fortune. It was opulent, borderline garish – utterly characteristic of the Upper City and its residents.

It was within this opulence Enver first saw her.

He had spent the better part of the night speaking to associates and... investors in his business ventures – a dance or two with a lady of noble birth in between. Their coquettish smiles were charming, though their personalities were as bland as a slice of stale bread. Enver never understood how some could be that dull and daft when they had endless funds at their disposal. If he were a better person, he'd pity them. Alas, he drowned his exasperation instead. He was far from drunk, but at the very least, the endless yapping had become tolerable.

His eyes wandered over the crowds, most delightfully inebriated, as Sir Provoss chewed his ear off about some venture Enver was invested in. He hardly listened; the Provoss family was near destitute and of no value to him. Within the sea of people, he noticed a glimpse of something silvery and shimmering, a horde of young ladies not far as they looked in the same direction and gossiped animatedly. Their gazes were full of disdain and haughtiness. Enver knew that hatred well - he had been on the receiving end of it long enough himself. His insatiable curiosity propelled him forward as he observed the rare display of disdain from the young noblewomen. With a quick excuse, he approached to catch a glimpse of a young elven woman standing beside Duke Dillard Portyr. The older man appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation with her.

Enver's first thought was that she was magnificent. Beautiful. Alluring.

Silvery locks had been intricately swept up in an updo, with carefully coiled curls framing her delicate features as they gleamed in the light. Her face, petite and exquisitely angular, was adorned with elegantly high cheekbones that gracefully complemented her ivory skin. Shell-pink lips were curled into a pleasant smile, and her eyes were such a striking green that Enver was almost disarmed for a second as he glanced at them. She wasn't tall, but she held herself with a regality Enver had scarcely seen from the most noble houses of Baldur's Gate.

It was easy to see why she was regarded with such disdain. These noblewomen who regarded her with such disdain could only hope to mimic a fraction of her beauty and breathtaking allure.

A pearly gown draped elegantly against her small figure; the delicate and intricate stitching along the hem only further enhanced her beauty. A Debutante, Enver noted. Rich by the looks of it, too.

A sly grin placed itself on his face.

Young, naive and likely wealthy beyond measure – Exactly the kind of woman he could play for a fool before he played her family for funds. It was a game he had played often. For all their money and education, these noblewomen all succumbed to the lie of love far too quickly. Disgracing might have been cruel, but their families were all too keen to pay hush money, so at least they'd appear virginal.

"Duke Portyr," Enver spieled, his voice full of false enthusiasm.

The Duke and the young woman beside him turned their faces to him.

"Sir Gortash," Portyr greeted him equally enthusiastically. He was the one Duke on the Council Enver had always been able to wrap around his finger. The man was anything but a genius. Ravengard had always dismissed him and Stelmane... well, whenever she was coherent enough to conduct meaningful business, she seemed to tolerate Enver, though apparently her business interests were in conflict with his.

The last of them, Duke Liardon, Enver had met merely three times. The man was reclusive, though popular and reminded Enver of the worst times of his life.

Enver quickly shook the memory of their first meeting from his mind. He could not afford to falter now.

"Wonderful to see you tonight," Enver cleared his throat.

"Likewise, likewise, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

Enver internally rolled his eyes. He was not a boy. He was a Lord, an inventor, a trader - an instrument of tyranny. Yet he said, "Of course", with a smile on his face.

"Why, have you met Lady Elodie yet?" the demented Duke suddenly said, turning to the side as he pointed towards the true object of Enver's attention. The young woman looked at him intently, her gaze sharp and calculating. She was focused. Vigilant. Beneath her pleasant smile, she was assessing him as much as he had assessed her.

A surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

"I have not," Enver answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

The young woman held out her hand, as polite company would, and Enver placed a chaste kiss upon it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elodie."

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Gortash." Her voice was gentle and as delicate and airy as she appeared. A melodic lilt, carried like a breeze - warm and kind. And yet there was a measurement to her words, a precise calculation, each word enunciated as precise as they were rhythmic.

"You see, Elodie, Sir Gortash is an excellent man for business," Duke Portyr spoke. "Most excellent, in fact."

"I'm certain he is," Elodie spoke, her vigilant eyes not leaving Envers. "Weaponry, I'm guessing?"

Enver had to swallow his astonishment. Whoever she was, she was far more keen than he had expected.

"Among other things," Enver confirmed with a nod. He did not appreciate her control, but her intelligence? Perhaps that was even more intriguing than her beauty. He could respect it even, but control? He would always love that above all.

"May I have your next dance?" He asked. A young debutante should be easily swayed by flirtatious advances, no matter how intelligent.

"I would be delighted."

"Excellent."

As genteel as ever, Enver held out his arm for her to take, her nimble fingers settling in the crook of his arm as he led her to the grand dancefloor. A lively waltz was playing, the cadence of the song joyful as people danced the night away around the odd couple. Enver could see various men glancing his way, their eyes full of envy. It made him smile deviously. A blind eunuch would probably still get a boner with a woman like that – she was oh so ravishing. And he had gotten her first. Jealousy was, in Enver's humble opinion, second to only hatred. If they envied him and what he had, they would hate him too. And in hatred, they'd bow to him and his Lord.

"Are you new to Baldur's Gate, Lady Elodie?" Enver asked as the pair began to waltz among the rest. "Forgive me if I am being bold, but a woman with your beauty would have long caught my eye."

She laughed - an earnest but musical sound. A blush placed itself on her cheeks.

As expected, Enver thought. The noblewomen all fell to the same folly.

"I was born in the Gate, Sir Gortash. I was... fortunate enough to travel Toril for a while. I returned recently."

"Indeed?" A well-travelled woman - certainly explained why she seemed far more educated than the rest of the lot. "Have you been enjoying your return to the city then?"

"Just so," she smiled at him as they spun around. His hand was firmly placed on her waist as he led her, warmth seeping through to his fingers. So close to her, he could smell her, and it was as exquisite as the rest of her. Luxurious notes of bergamot, freesia and mandarin assaulted his senses, with something sweet simmering beneath. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever soap she used, it must have been expensive. Whoever her family was, they must have been at the top of the food chain.

"Though I hardly believe you asked me to dance to ask me about the Gate."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Just so," she grinned again, mischief flickering behind her eyes. "Or perhaps I have met your sort before."

Enver could not help the indignant snort that escaped him. No matter what she may have seen on her travels, he would bet his entire estate that she had never come across a soul like his.

"And what sort would that be, hm?" Enver teased. "I am but a partiar with a penchant for weaponry."

"Are you trying to insult your own intelligence or mine?" she quipped with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Your garments alone tell me you crave to be accepted as their own, and the shadows under your eyes are deep enough to let me know you hardly sleep. I don't suppose you call yourself an inventor too?"

Enver blinked in surprise, his mind failing him for a second as they continued to dance. This was a first. Never once before had he met a woman so stunningly beautiful and equally intelligent. A lethal combination if there ever was one. It was disarming.

"My garments?" he slowly spoke after a while. He wore something of equal luxury as she did - a bespoke suit, tailored to perfection of obsidian colour and embroidered with fine golden thread.

"You are compensating," she stated with a matter-of-fact voice. "It's a fine quality ensemble, but the embroidery is borderline garish. A man who grew up with abundant wealth would hardly wear this. You worked yourself to the wealth you have. I can only assume this means you are exceptionally smart as well."

If he hadn't been so impressed, Enver would have been livid. How dare you? He wanted to shout. He wasn't compensating. He had earned his right to wear finery, and he would be damned if he did not make full use of it. Instead, he only gave her a strained, near-mocking laugh. After all, she had correctly assumed he was smart.

"My my. You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Right then. Let me return the favour," Enver offered.

"By all means."

He resumed his assessment of her. The gears in his mind turned endlessly, solving endless puzzles as they presented themselves to him. She had surprised him tonight, a mistake he would not make again. Enver knew people - understood them and their wants before they understood themselves. An ability which had served him well. Her gaze, beneath the smile, remained calculating, a mask to conceal something deeper. She was a problem waiting to be solved, and Enver guessed no one ever had. His mind could fixate on problems like that — anything, really — and not let go. Controlling one element of the world meant a step closer to whole tyranny. It meant his certain keep from ruin. A bad habit, perhaps, that blinded him to other things that could harm him. A tendency towards obsession was hardwired into his brain and would have likely been his undoing if he hadn't learned to outsmart it.

"You crave to be known," Enver ventured to guess. Her breath hitched almost imperceivably, and Enver smirked. His gut had never failed him.

"You know you are beautiful. That men desire you. But you want to be known for who you are rather than your body. You crave for someone to uncover the deepest parts of your soul," his voice had reduced to a mere whisper now, blowing in her ear. "You want more, Elodie. Whether that someone is a challenge or an equal."

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing now. Enver was sure that if he had placed a hand on her chest, he could have felt her heart beating erratically. She might have him figured out, but two could play that game. They had created a strange tableau that night in the ballroom: nefarious man, enigmatic woman, lavishly grandiose ballroom. It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy or ruin, but Enver had always defied destiny. They could be good for each other.

"I can see why you are such a success," she chuckled, almost nervously.

"I simply exercise control in all things, Lady Elodie."

"Hm, one might think that's borderline tyrannical," she mused.

To a normal person, that might have been an insult, but to a man like Enver, who worshipped at the feet of Bane, it possibly was the best compliment he'd ever get.

"Perhaps," Enver chuckled. "But it serves me well."

"Careful, Sir Gortash," Elodie quipped. "You almost sound like a Banite."

Perceptive little thing, Enver wanted to laugh. He almost wished to inflict penance upon himself for having underestimated her so severely. She was beautiful, sure. But what worth held beauty in a woman if there were no brains to match? At best, she'd be a nice fuck, but never an equal or better yet - a wife. Enver would never dare to sully his line with offspring from a daft hussy - not that Bane would allow him to, either. His God demanded perfection; Elodie might just have been that. She was, quite frankly, up to his standards. Perhaps the woman in his arms wasn't vicious or hateful like him, but she was machiavellian and astute, qualities Enver knew Bane valued.

He tried to imagine her clad in obsidian silk or the deepest emerald wool money could buy, warped in Bane's embrace, and Enver decided he liked it. She suited his God, was possibly even worthy of his blessing if she could understand the tranquillity his tyranny would bring and follow in his name. Enver wagered she could, especially if someone could convince her of its worth and who better to convince her than him? Enver silently wondered how big of a challenge she would be, for her innate craving to be known was something he could give her better than any other man ever could, yet she did not appear as a woman who liked to be tamed. The longer Enver held her, the more he recognised that beneath the elegance and allure, there was something wild and untamable - something feral.

She could be his equal in tyranny - an invaluable asset.

"Bane is a God like any other, Lady Elodie. He rewards those willing to make sacrifices in the name of power. Sacrifices which not everyone will make." Enver mused. Her immediate face of contempt amused him. "You're not a fan, I take it?"

"Hardly," she pursed her lips. "I fail to see both the value and the right in tyranny."

"A strong word for what some might consider the natural order. The weak have always been ruled by the strong few."

"And yet nothing constitutes that right," Elodie countered, devotion in her eyes. "None have the right to decide another's fate or to enact punishment, no matter if by the hand of a God or the sheer circumstance of fortune. Nothing does."

Altruism - how much Enver detested it. He supposed it was a marker of her young age, for no matter how well-travelled she was, her brain would lack in experience and instead make up for it in idealism and heroism. He supposed he had thought like that himself once before Nubaldin and Raphael had beat it out of him until nothing but hate and the certainty that absolutism would always rule those too feeble for it. There would always be a power above them, ruling with an iron fist. Enver had long understood it was better to be that power, to wield it, instead of succumbing to it.

He was confident Elodie would learn that lesson, too.

"And how would you propose to rule chaos then, hm?"

"Chaos?" Her voice did not hide her incredulity.

"Chaos," Enver confirmed. "No control, no law, no gods, no government at all. Where do you go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if everyone is to live in peace? What social contract is needed so that everyone is taken care of?"

She mulled over it for a while, the gears in her head turning as the pair spun around the ballroom. She seemed to genuinely consider his question, though Enver did not know where her mind strayed. Would it come to the same conclusion he had long accepted? That in chaos, each mortal, with their own individual agenda, could only cause friction, conflict and war? Humanity was a flaw, and in the chaos of Avernus was the first time he saw it undressed. In turmoil, civilisation disappeared; every august manner and act was stripped away in the blink of an eye. Chaos would always reveal everything a person was - that humanity's greatest flaw was humanity itself. A peaceful existence could only exist if they bowed to a collective agenda - his agenda, preferably - and when finally they'd bow to him in fear, perhaps they might find a semblance of peace.

"You are a curious man, Sir Gortash," Elodie hummed after a while. "I don't think I have ever met an enigma such as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," Enver chuckled as he spun her around once again.

The melody of the song came to its grand finale, every couple spinning as they prepared for it to end. Glittering twirls and heaving breaths accompanied the soaring crescendo before, after long, the orchestra had quieted, and each couple bowed and curtsied in respect before either gathering themselves for another dance or leaving the floor altogether. Enver gently led Elodie away, hoping to perhaps continue their conversation over some wine. It was rare a person caught his interest beyond business - the last was a Bhaalspawn and he still wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust them. After all, their masters were not only at odds, but they had been created for nothing but slaughter, and Enver wasn't asinine enough to pretend he was the exception.

"It's getting rather late," Eloide mused.

"You've yet to answer my question," Enver mentioned with faux casualty, though internally, he was burning with curiosity.

"Delayed gratification is not denial, Sir Gortash," a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I shall bid you good night."

Gracefully, she spun around, shimmering in the glowing light before she disappeared into the crowds, leaving Enver Gortash speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.

The second time Enver saw Elodie, it had been in the same corridors of High Hall, though the decor had long been removed, and the orchestra was no longer enchanting Patriars. Parliament was supposed to be in session later that day, and Enver had been summoned by Duke Portyr to discuss further commerce strategies as the Tymanther-Unther War continued to disrupt the trade between the nations. It was a tiresome issue, and if someone would have asked him his opinion, Enver would have bombed the Tymanthan armies a long time ago. The old empire of Unther was far from his favourite places in Faerûn, but their gold and iron were unfortunately far too valuable to lose in the long run.

Alas, Duke Ravengard had outright rejected to provide any militia, which had upped the price of metals exponentially - much to Enver's ire.

Porytr was a dimwitted oaf he had always been able to control, but unfortunately, the Duke was simply that. A Duke. The commander of the Flaming Fist on his side would have been much preferable for Enver, but it was merely a matter of time before Ravengard perished, whether that be in battle or due to an uprising among the Gate's citizens. Gorion's Ward, the hero who had saved the realm from Bhaal once, had not been spared - a mere commander of the Flaming Fist was replaced within a breath. Enver had considered assassination more than once; the Bhaalspawn turned his personal assassin would have been more than up for it, possibly even knelt at his feet for allowing such carnage and chaos to be sown. However, Bhaal and Bane's truce was fragile enough - further straining their relationship by using Bhaal's greatest design would have been an insult to the deity Enver was not keen to make. He had made a great deal of enemies; he did not need to add the God of Murder to the list.

As Enver sashayed around the Ducal Palace piano tunes accompanied his steps. Curious, he thought. There was nary a day the pianos were used, unless the halls were used for lavish parties and as far as Enver knew, there were none held anytime soon. As his luck would have it the sound carried itself from somewhere near the ducal offices, thus Enver indulged his curiosity and followed the melody as it carried itself through the musty halls.

He was both bewildered and pleased when he saw Elodie again.

The young woman had hardly left his mind in the aftermath of the Breaking, and yet not a single person had spotted her since. Enver had half a mind to ask Porytr for the young maiden's full name, for the oaf seemed to at least know who she was, which could not be said the rest of the Partriars. She was a complete mystery, and mysteries had, regrettably, a way of driving people utterly mad. No matter how well Enver tried to outsmart his own humanity, he, too, fell folly to the same desire of uncovering the truth.

He observed her for a while; watched as her nimble fingers glided over the piano keys. He had recognised the tune then - a Cormanthyran hymn from times long ago, first come into creation as the Seven Citadels' War had ended and Elves had rejoiced of peace returning to their lands. Enver did not know the name, for the Elvish tongue was foreign to him, but he knew of it as an Ode to Freedom, heroism and eventual triumph as people came together to be good. Enver silently wondered if she had known he would be there or if she had chosen the piece by chance (even if he did not believe that himself).

"You are full of surprises, Lady Elodie," Enver revealed his presence as the final note echoed within the halls.

If she had been beautiful in the dim and glimmering light of the Breaking, Enver supposed she was ethereal as the sun illuminated her skin and her hair, cascading down in gentle waves to the middle of her back shimmered in the golden light.

"Oloth elgg ssussun," the elvish sounded like a prayer spilt from her lips. "Have you any idea what that means, Sir Gortash?"

"I'm afraid I speak no elvish," he divulged, curiously awaiting where this conversation would lead.

"Darkness drowns out light," she smiled as she turned to face him. "You asked how I would govern chaos."

So she had not forgotten - Enver was almost giddy as he awaited her answer with feigned lassitude. He had damn near longed to hear her answer after she had disappeared from his clutches.

"I have indeed," he chuckled.

"My mother saw the piano as a means to control the chaos in me," the young woman began to muse. "She had hoped that dexterous fingers would curb the less dexterous approach I had to... other things."

The gears in Enver's mind began turning rapidly again as he assessed the vexing smile on her lips. She was toying with him, possibly even enjoying laying out the puzzle pieces to her innermost self. He could venture to guess what she was; the feral nature that had always simmered just beneath was the answer all along.

"You're a Sorcerer, aren't you?"

She nodded in confirmation, her smile widening a fraction on her face.

"My parents were rather frightened when I set fire to my maid's skirts at the mere age of eight," a small chuckle escaped her. "I was uncontrolled. Chaos incarnate, one might say. And you know what only amplified the chaos?"

"I suppose you are about to enlighten me." He was intrigued now, clinging onto her words as if each and every one was vitally important.

"Control. The more my parents tried to control it - the further they tried to suppress what I was - the worse the chaos became. People are a lot like that, you know?" she hummed appreciatively, head somewhere between there and the clouds. She was staring into nowhere, a faraway look in her eyes as if remembering times long past. Enver supposed she did.

"Either way," she sighed after a few seconds, "control, tyranny, is not the answer to ensure peace."

"Then what is?" Enver asked, slowly stepping closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he had asked - he knew full well he would neither approve the answer nor even think it sensical. But, perhaps, she had been just impressive enough for him to bother and young enough to believe he could influence her. Change her. For all the men and women he had bedded, betrayed and deceived, none had ever offered a semblance of a challenge or semi-equal wit, and it was both pleasant and addicting to have it in her.

"There isn't a need to govern chaos, much less to suppress it," she smiled gently. "There is beauty in it, and it is part of us human beings as much as it is of our greatest problems and most eloquent solutions."

Enver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh in her face. There was no beauty in chaos or much less revelry, and while he agreed that chaos was innately human, he would never dare describe it as beautiful. Chaos did not provide any eloquent solutions but caused endless problems, which in turn only caused suffering. Her youthful, altruistic nature was nearly adorable - how delightful it would be for him to turn it around. He did savour a challenge, after all.

"I see," Enver nodded. "So your idea of a government is for it to do nothing."

"No," Elodie frowned. "Besides, you -"

Their conversation was cut short as the grand oak doors leading to the ducal offices opened, and Duke Portyr and Duke Liardon stepped out with grim looks and hastened steps. Whatever previous meetings they had been in - and Enver assumed it was trade-related, as most things were these days - it likely wasn't fruitful or congenial, which meant he would have to amplify his charms if he wanted to convince the oaf Portyr of the vision he held for the Tymanther-Unther War. He scrutinised the two men as they prattled in hushed voices, tension clear on their faces as both looked near furious at the other, the vexation bubbling just beneath the surface. A peculiar sight, Enver noted, yet he continued to observe, hoping the already visible tension would translate itself into something further - as it always threatened to.

From the handful of encounters Enver had with Duke Thamior Liardon, he had gathered that the man was as stoic as can be, deep brown eyes constantly assessing and calculating as he carefully observed those around him. For an elf, the man was rather tall and imposing, and while his rather charitable ventures made him a somewhat popular fellow among Baldurians, Duke Liardon was possibly the single person in this plane Enver could never quite make sense of. He knew the Duke had engaged in ignoble dealings and immoral trades, the man's history strangely interwoven with Enver's own and yet neither had ever mentioned it to the other. To know of the truth, to be conscious of another reality while dancing around carefully constructed tales had created a strange diorama between the men who otherwise did not engage with each other, though Enver anticipated the day he finally put Duke Liardon in his rightful place.

To repudiate morality while laying claim to it was one thing, though Enver did not care for liars. But a man who dealt with devils, no matter how beloved a politician, was no man he would protect when he inevitably rose above them. It was yet another process of arduous and ultimate subtlety in his ambition, his destiny, to be absolute.

"Papa," the girl next to him cleared her throat before she took assured steps towards Duke Liardon.

The two Dukes finally ceased their conversation, quick, easy and strained smiles placing themselves on their faces as Elodie approached them. Papa? Enver wondered for a brief second, though he wished to self-flagellate himself when he finally saw it. Of course - how could he have not seen it before?

He had felt the presence of nobility, understood she was wealthy beyond most people's means - she even looked like him. It was uncanny now that the girl stood in front of her father.

Enver Gortash, nee Flymm, rarely ever got excited, but that particular moment was something else entirely. Enver watched with sharp eyes as perhaps the most significant opportunity in his life arose - a culmination of years of hard work, careful planning and, in this case, sheer dumb luck.

Elodie - no longer an elusive noblewoman but the daughter of a Duke.

"Duke Portyr, Duke Liardon," Enver greeted the men. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise, Gortash," Thamior nodded curtly, his voice clipped as he mustered Enver. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company in the ducal offices today."

"I invited him," Portyr retorted. "We were to discuss some ... commerce strategies."

"Ah," the elven Duke nodded. "I see."

"I wasn't aware you were active in the political landscape, Sir Gortash," Elodie cut in, a curious look on her face as she retrenched this new information.

Before Enver could answer her, her father cut in, an incredulous "You know him?" spilling from the collected Duke's lips. It was the first time Enver had seen the barest hint of emotion on the man's face. He stored that information away immediately. Knowing the Achilles Heel of another was always valuable, particularly for a Duke who shamelessly bargained with infernal beings without so much as an ounce of contrition. Not that Enver was any better.

"We met at the Breaking," Enver explained with a small nod.

"I actually introduced them," Portyr exclaimed happily. "They were rather dashing on the dancefloor if I do say so myself." Enver nearly snorted as he glanced at the barest hint of displeasure and ire on Thamior Liardon's face. Achilles Heel, indeed.

"I wasn't aware matchmaking was an area of your expertise, Dillard."

The Duke laughed dismissively, the sound echoing through the grand halls of the ancient halls. "Your daughter has grown up," he remarked with a hint of both condescension and amusement.

Enver was confident he would have been privy to a fight between the Dukes then and there had Elodie not intervened with a chagrin giggle.

"Be that as it may, Mama has asked you to join her at Figaro's before the council is in session later today. Something along the lines of your doublet needing to be fixed?"  

The Duke begrudgingly complied, uttering a quick "Until later" before he scurried towards the exit, a chamberlain and guard rushing to follow him before Enver was left in the company of Elodie and Duke Portyr, who conveniently excused himself with a cheeky wink. Enver carefully quelled the instinct to be overzealous, opting instead to maintain his characteristic veneer of stoicism. However, beneath his near-impenetrable façade, the prospect of engaging with her further was a discrete thrill, an emotion as perplexing as it was involuntary.

"I see my father is no votary of yours," Elodie broke the silence.

Enver barked out a laugh. If only she knew. Her father was a man shrouded in more secrecy than most Baldurian's would ever know, hardly the paragon of justice some had made him out to be and even less the devout Lathander disciple his Cleric wife had allegedly turned him into. But if they had all accepted the lie, Thamior Liardon had imposed on them – if all his records and annals told the same tale – the lies passed into the narrative and became truth. It was yet another testament to humanity's flaws, for most could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, simply swallowing everything they were given without a second thought. How much they could thrive under leadership like his...

"We do not see eye to eye," Enver cryptically replied after a while. One day, he would use the lack of her knowledge against her, but in that singular moment, it had been far more sensical to omit the truth in favour of her trust.

"I'm not surprised," Elodie mused. "He's no fan of control."

"A sentiment you see to share," Enver retorted.

"I do," she nodded resolutely. "Control and power are not a means, Sir Gortash. They are an end. Tyranny itself is deeply rooted in the chaos you desperately seek to eliminate."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you?" Elodie tilted her head. "One does not establish tyranny in order to safeguard people from chaos; one sows it to establish tyranny. Sarevok himself used chaos as a means to establish his own."

"Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn," Enver interjected, befuddled. "Bhaal's scions never sought anything but conflict. It was quite literally bred into them." - and still was, he nearly said, but the girl likely lived under the belief that any Bhaalspawn had long perished.

"And yet he sowed enough chaos to nearly be crowned a Duke of this city, which would have enabled his own tyrannical rule and end in Bhaal's name." She hummed for a second as if deep in thought. "Faith is both an anchor and an excellent catalyst for indoctrination, you know."

"Aren't your parents known Lathander worshippers?" Enver asked incredulously. Such words were hardly those of a faithful.

"I am too," Elodie confessed. "And yet my point stands. How often have wars been fought in the names of gods, if only to establish something purportedly better? How often has faith been used to establish means of control, yet only chaos was left in its wake?"

Clever as she was, Enver had begun to see her point, though he certainly did not agree with her conclusion. While Sarevok's folly had been nought but chaos and destruction, it was hardly reflective of faith but more a reflection of the god. A god such as his Lord Bane would bring eternal peace, though yes, also fear, yet the brief struggle would culminate in peace if only people would see and bend to the whim of his dreaded Lord. Obedience alone was not enough unless there was suffering for a brief second in which human minds were torn apart and put together again in the shapes of his own choosing.

Enver surmised, with a grin, that Elodie was correct.

Chaos was, if only briefly, a vital aspect to assured peace and if a collective god would sow it upon all until they bend to his will - an imposture of manufactured chaos, which may have been unreal yet vitally important. His mind twisted and turned endlessly, rapidly altering and revising as Enver realised just how useful chaos could be if only treaded with trepidation, contempt, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.

"I see your point," he eventually grinned. "After all, the faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 10: Everything Counts

[Also Available on AO3]

Shadow Dance Masterlist

Summary: Rory, Soap, Ghost and Rudy head to the Fuerzas Especiales base to deal with Graves, but things don't always go as planned

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, character with trauma, established relationship, military inaccuracies, includes some in-game dialogue, references to previous fics (All Along the Watchtower), canon-typical violence

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 4.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV

November 3, 2022 15:42 - Las Almas, Mexico

Almost lost in the slick blackness of the metal compact full of eyeblack, the depths of the tin that her fingers spread round and round in like a scrying mirror’s surface, Rory found herself with a quiet ache settling in her chest. A hollow emptiness like a forgotten dream overtaking her as the scent of the grease camouflage harkened back to childhood and the bag of costume makeup her mother kept aside for her to play with while she clomped around the house in high heels several times too big for her, scuffing against wood floors as they dragged with each tottering footstep, a sound repeated in the faded noise of reality with each scrape of boots around her. 

It always surprised her how a wave of nostalgia could hit at the strangest of moments, a hint of simpler times rising to the surface compared to some more recent battle. A reminder of the loss of innocence before waging warfare. 

Closing her eyes, she rubbed the thick pancake of paint over her lids and around the orbital bones. Seeping into every crevice after being spread thin by the warmth of her skin, it sank into the lines that had begun to settle – the crow’s feet birthed by smiles and sun damage like Aphrodite from the seafoam. 

Memories of hours spent getting herself ready for inspection before a superior flashed across her eyes along with the phosphenes as her fingers massaged over the thin flesh, smearing them with warpaint the consistency of boot polish. The start of her career had still had her stomping about in shoes that took years before they finally fit and were no longer merely a means to an end. Finding her place, standing tall after countless hours with a hunched back bent over stiff footwear, the elbow grease required a soft cloth and brush to work the leather until it shone. Wanna see my face in it, Private. That same effort equaled a steady climb up the ranks. Slow, tender dedication spent making sure the hide grew supple and slick, the sheen maintaining a bright gleam like the gimmick of sparkling teeth in a toothpaste advertisement. That small practice became a touchstone for all things when it pertained to her success as a soldier. 

Opening her eyes, pupils shrinking as the light poured into her hazel depths, she wiped her hands off on the thick material of her tac pants before slipping on her gloves, pulling the rough kevlar and leather taut at her wrists. Groping over the pockets of her vest for one last check, completing the soldier’s superstitious practice of the pat down – no stone left unturned, nothing left up to fate – it was as close to the religious routine of the sign of the cross Soap was committed to each time before heading out into combat.

In the hangar where they waited for their vehicles to complete their final preparations, Soap, Rory, Ghost, and Rudy took a moment before setting off to catch up with Price, Gaz, and Alejandro who were already on their way to the Fuerzas Especiales base. The plan was to move in a swift two prong attack against Graves and Shadow, using chaos to their advantage. It had worked in the prison break, Graves’ confidence acting as a weakness, not expecting them to come knocking on the front door. The old adage don’t fix what isn’t broken sprang to mind and there was a certain charm to the idea of ruining the American’s day once more in just the same way.

Against the black makeup Soap’s eyes stood out bright and blue like a husky as he twisted his torso left and right, the bulk of his shoulders and arms flexing with each movement. Never seeming to be able to stay still, his mind and body was always active. And reactive – Much like the explosives he was so handy with. “So, who do you think the Cap’n’s punishin’ puttin’ you with me an’ Ghost?” he mused, a wry grin twisting his stubbled jaw as he glanced towards Rory. “Either he’s had enough of your lip by stickin’ you with me, or I’ve gone and done some’in’ to piss him off royally and now I’m stuck with two Lt’s.”

She chuckled, pondering as she tightened the laces on her boots, tugging up on the tongue. “Don’t know yet. Suppose we’ll find out when he starts barking orders, eh?” “I was going to ask…” Rudy interjected, turning to Soap with a curious furrow to his brow, “How come your squad has two Lieutenants?” His eyes roamed over to Ghost who stood near the wall, facing the nearest exit. Solid as a rock, his arms held at his sides, his eyes focused out into a non-specific point in the middle of the floor. “Doesn’t that get kind of… confusing?” Ducking his gaze away, he looked to Rory instead.

“John’s the type who likes to keep a stacked deck,” she replied. “Ghost and I – while we have some crossover in our skills – we both offer the Captain something a little… different. Depending on the sort of mission, that can be quite advantageous. And John’s willing to do a fair bit to pull out ahead.”

Soap stepped forward and placed his hand on Rudy’s shoulder. “What she means to say is: They can both be sneaky fuckers the enemy doesn’t see comin’.” His head tipped back towards her, white teeth glinting in the lowlight as he smiled. “Only she tends to look ‘em in the face an’ smiles about it while she does it.”

“That’s probably the easiest way to put it. Yes.” She nodded her head and patted her hand over the left pocket of her tac vest, the leaden weight of the brass knuckles she carried connecting with her touch. “Thank you, Soap.”

“Certainly ain’t called ‘Lamb’ ‘cause she’s innocent,” Ghost muttered. 

Rory’s eyes rolled towards the hulking man and a slight hint of a smirk curled the corner of her lips. “Yes, well, unfortunately all the good edgy names were taken before I could get my hands on one.”

Ghost chuckled, low and ragged, his shoulders shifting slightly as he lumbered towards the door. “Right, got a ride waitin’ for us. Johnny, Rodolfo – you’ll be on me. Sinclair’s got ‘er own set of orders to carry out once inside.”

The group made their way out to the two vehicles waiting for them. Engines running, exhaust pumped out to meet with the haze of afternoon sun and the dry heat of the desert. In the pick up truck, members of Los Vaqueros sat in the cabin and the bed, while the van sat with its back doors ajar. Gritty sand crunched beneath their boots with each steady step, a sudden quiet falling over them as each soldier sunk into their own heads, broken only by Soap humming “Heat Waves” to himself.

Clasping the doors for leverage as she climbed inside, Rory's hands were met by the sting of hot metal. Like touching the burner on a stove by accident, she hissed as her fingertips not covered by the material of her gloves made contact. Looking back over her shoulder at the Scotsman who was next in line to climb in, her sharp eyes narrowed at him. “For the love of God, Soap. You have to find another song to get stuck in that skull of yours. You are doing my head in.”

“Can’ help that it’s playin’ on the radio all the damn time. It’s catchy, ye ken?” Gazing skywards – up to a god who was punishing her, even if Price wasn't – she took her seat, the others filing in afterwards. Ghost, the last to enter, slammed the doors shut behind them and the engines revved. 

Both vehicles pulled out down the dirt road towards the roadway, tires bouncing as they hit the asphalt pavement. Driving through the region towards their destination, they were surrounded by rocky hills, the wind whistling through the windows and the wild grasses outside. The sun remained high in the sky, beating down on them, slow to descend and bathing their progress in its light. 

Coming up on the curve in the road, the roof of the base breached the horizon line, climbing slowly upwards. The citadel. The promised land. 

The twitchiness of adrenaline steadily starting to beat within the forces’ bodies began like a wave through the back of the van. Rory’s fingers ran over the grooves of her rifle, the alloy cool upon her singed tips, as she surveyed the approaching battleground. Her warm eyes locked in on the security towers which would likely conceal snipers, and the iron bars of the gates only resembled a small deterrent to their advance. Toes curling in her boots, ready to march, to engage, she stretched her neck from side to side. The muscles in her back twitched, and a low, dull throb hummed deep in the tissue of her shoulder. 

Ghost’s radio chirped to life as Price’s voice filled the small enclosure. “All Ghosts. I’m wheels up with eyes on.”

They were moments away from breaching, the vehicle shaking with mild turbulence as the sergeant behind the wheel began to increase speed. The nervous flutter in Rory’s stomach clenched at her insides as she breathed in slow and exhaled through pursed lips. 

“Copy that,” Ghost replied, squeezing down on the radio strapped to his shoulder. “Two is inbound to the gate. You’re cleared hot when target is marked.”

The closer they drew towards their infiltration point, they held one last final briefing to ensure everyone was on the same page for their attack, yet Rory’s mind drifted to the helicopter that buzzed above, the sound of its blades steadily growing louder. Death from above. Their eyes in the sky. 

“Comprendes?” 

The grate of Riley’s voice and his use of Spanish pulled her from the game plan she was running through in her head. While Ghost, Soap, and Rudy would be laying down firepower, acting as the distraction, Rory would be going in with a group of Vaqueros headed straight for the main base, slipping in silently, sight unseen – Her past with reconnaissance priming her for such a feat.

“Completely, Lieutenant,” Rudy agreed. His hand grasped at the radio on his vest, relaying orders to the rest of the team. “All Ghosts, stand by for breach.”

“Soap, get the detonator and mark targets for Price in the helo,” Ghost ordered.

It wasn’t long before the whine of a missile soaring through the air was cut short, followed by the shockwaves of an explosion that rattled the glass of the vehicle’s windows, and a mushrooming blast of fire that shot up into the sky. The fallout of shrapnel shot in all directions as the gate that blocked their route was erased from existence, along with the armored vehicle and guard detail posted there.

“Good guns, Bravo-6.”

“Copy. Get to the HQ and find Graves. Alejandro, use the chaos for cover and get to Valeria.”

Sunlight flooded the back of the vehicle as a horde of special forces soldiers exited, the doors bursting open forcefully. Weapons hot, primed and ready to go, they spread out like a hive of carpenter ants ready to tear down an enemy’s nest and wipe out its leader. 

Motioning a signal with her hand, Rory and her small team of three other soldiers – all of whom were handpicked by Alejandro for their skill with infiltration – split off to flank the opposing force, striking from the back while Shadow was focused on the targets attacking them head on. This was her forte. Sneaking in under cover, methodical and precise. Gusto had its time and place, and Ghost and Soap would see to that with Price’s help. Noisy, violent – the berserkers in a viking raid there to spread chaos and unsettle the Shadow forces. Creating chinks in their defense, little cracks in the armor where she could wreak havoc before they even knew she had arrived. Rust eating away at iron, weakening it. A contagion spreading, the deadly killer on the inside. Just as Laswell had pinned her all those years ago: the soldier and the spy, straddling the line between both.

Moving quickly, remaining careful, but always with the confidence of someone who belonged there, the priority was to never give the enemy a reason to question their appearance while also not allowing them a chance to take a second glance. It was a fine line to walk, one that took practice, skill, and certainly not for the faint of heart. Rory and her team vaulted over barrier walls, climbed nimbly, and kept off the beaten path, headed straight for the main headquarters where Graves was thought to be holed up. 

Silent takedowns were a necessary recourse when acting without being caught. Infiltration like this required a soldier to always be on the alert for the witness that could rat them out. The crunch of bone under her hand was one that made her teeth grit but didn’t stop her from completing her objective. The warmth of an enemy soldier’s armor-clad body pressed against her as she slipped the blade into the unprotected joints blended with the sweat under the heavy material of her uniform that slicked her skin and the blinding rays of the sun that beat upon her brow. Blood on her hands, stained under the nails – when she gifted herself with a manicure she was always half sure the nail tech could catch the stale scent of iron that she imagined clung to her ceaselessly. 

There was a coldness to executing an op like this, something about getting up close and personal with little use of gunfire that required a soldier’s mind to cut itself off from the realities of it more acutely. Missing the disconnect of a scope or a bullet finishing the job, she felt the odd archaic, almost primal surge of quiet savagery inside her that she didn’t often like to contemplate. Everyone was capable of violence when push came to shove, very few could live with the thought of actually enacting it. She had learned to. Grown more comfortable with it day by day throughout her career and under the tutelage of Price. Honed into a well-crafted weapon that carried the tell-tale marks of the notches of his grip like the leather of a knife’s hilt. It had become all too natural to her now, delivering a swift end without the moral dilemma that used to follow her. Even the others could see it, remark upon it. She always knew the cover of the “Lamb” was a farce, something that would be sacrificed at the altar of her career, but to feel the bite strength of the wolf’s jaw as it clamped down around the unsuspecting still sent a shiver down her spine. Hell, she could practically hear the David Attenborough narration in the back of her head:

And so, the alpha female working in conjunction with the alpha male, helps to corral and control the flow of movement of their lesser prey. Meticulous in their maneuvers. Herding them towards demise. Well trained. Synergetic. Near telepathic in their connection after so many years spent hunting together.

She was lucky there was a mask on her face to hide the smug expression that encompassed her features. Eyes glinting through the slit in her balaclava, the soft fawnish gaze hardened to one of burnished bronze and the sharp prickle of pine needles as they reached the exterior walls of the Fuerzes Especiales building. Connecting their ropes, ascenders in hand, they started to scale the building to the first set of windows. Eyes peeled for enemy movement, Rory contacted Price, her hand squeezing the radio on her vest. “About to make entry into the HQ. Is the rest of two headed this way?”

“Copy,” Price rasped hoarsely as the rattle of the helicopter’s minigun went off in the distance. “Still clearing the route. Should be breaching in five.”

She hummed, looking out at the battleground as the helicopter Price was inside weaved and bullets scattered, carving through environment and enemy alike. “Something to be said for how a man handles a very big gun,” she murmurs.

“Comm channel’s still open, sweetheart. I heard that.”

“Perhaps you were supposed to,” she replied with a smirk. Checking in the windows once more, and noticing no movement, she pulled the small strip charge from her vest. “Right, we’re breaching and heading for the top. Hoping to catch Graves with his pants down. Out here.”

Holding up her hand, counting down on her fingers, charges were placed on the tempered windows. 

With the blast of shattering glass scattering across the floor in fine fragments, black ropes slithered in through the open wounds in the building, penetrating the stairwell. The only cure was a bullet as the lyssavirus made its way for the nerve center, the brains of the operation of Shadow Company.

Heavy tactical boots moved with a whisper over the cement steps, clothing quietly rustled, each breath little more than a hushed pant as they ascended the stairwells. Filtering into the hall, catching Shadows unaware, arms wrapped around necks holding them in tight chokeholds while silenced pistols and knives finished the task. The quiet thud of bodies being lowered to the floor was the only remaining sound as they pushed forward. 

A tremor from deep within the foundations of the base carried up through the support structures of the building. Like an oncoming stampede, the floor shook below her boots, the early warning that Ghost’s squad was drawing closer as Shadow was forced to start pulling out the heavy artillery. The low, creaking groan of twisting metal followed the sound of a colliding missile causing her to grit her teeth as one of the radio towers outside smashed to the ground and caused more enemies to come scurrying out of their holes, reminding her of when buildings in London’s core were torn down and the rodents would be forced to locate to some new burrow to nest in, resulting in waves of generations crawling out of the woodwork.

There was causing a distraction, laying down covering fire, and then there was whatever this was. 

A hailstorm of ricocheting bullets on the roof above had her and the rest of her squad looking up towards the ceiling and the concrete dust that sprinkled down from it. 

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath, quiet enough for no one else to hear as she rolled her eyes. 

Signing out the next orders, she directed the cell towards the assumed position of their target, and moving as one, they reached the pinnacle of the base. 

The soft clang of boot treads on metal grating caused little resonance, hushed by the continuing sounds of destruction around the base courtyard. Their movements pillowed by the explosions as they climbed towards the control room.

One step. 

Two steps. 

A held breath. 

And then, the colossal blast of the door on the ground floor being blown wide open made her progress falter, the C4 bang traveling upstairs rapidly to meet them. Her time to strike had just been trimmed down for her, fat flayed away from the rump. 

Fuck.

Gunfire filled the air. Shadow forces calling out enemy positions was a blizzard of cacophony. The element of surprise was pulled out from underneath her like a rug. 

“Goddammit,” she snarled quietly. Glancing over her shoulder at her squad, she relayed her orders. “We still have our orders,” she whispered in a rasp. “We’re here for Graves. Silence doesn’t matter anymore.” Swinging her rifle off her shoulder, she readied her weapon in her hands, and took point at the door. “On three.”

“One.”

She could hear Soap, his timbre carrying even without the use of a radio, the heavy stomping of boots growing louder the closer he and Ghost came as they stormed the building. 

“Two.”

Graves’ voice over the speaker system at least confirmed her suspicions that he was still in the base, especially as he ordered his forces to take the offensive against those who had arrived to kill him. 

“Three.”

Kicking the door in, all weapons pointed at the remaining targets, she found Graves bent over the console where a bank of monitors displayed the many camera angles he had available on the base. 

Turning to face his firing line, hands held up in surrender, a smug grin pulled the scar on his cheek taut. “Well, looky here… s’pose you must be here to take me out.” His eyes flickered between the soldiers and he sucked his teeth. “Let’s say you and I have a little chat, huh?” His hands slowly started to lower, trying to keep her busy with talk as he reached behind his back. “Seem like you’re a reasonable ‘nough lady, maybe we can come to an agreement. Sound good? 

A round went off, and the screen of one of the monitors splintered and cracked, flickering to black as the soldier standing before it dropped to the ground. 

Graves’ hands immediately flew back up, sky high. “Fuck me,” he muttered, chuckling nervously as he looked down at the body of one of his men. “Don’t take prisoners, do you, sweetheart?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, goddamn, you’re just as ruthless as that Captain I’ve been hearin’ so much about, now aren’t you?” He smiled, far too cocky for his own good. “Shepherd warned me you’d be on your way. Couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could ya?” Gripping the shoulder straps of his tac vest, he grinned from ear to ear. “Buncha Brits in my territory…” His head angled to the side, his blonde hair fluttering softly. “Did ya really think you could win?”

“Haven’t lost yet,” Rory replied, lining up her shot. 

Boots clattered up the metal stairs behind her, the weight of them carrying the force of a battering ram, the headstrong punch of the young buck looking to clash antlers. Soap was about to stomp into her crafted trap, gormless of the background machinations.

“There he is!” Soap called out, bursting into the control room, firing towards the targets. A firefight breaking out was not the angle she had hoped for. She knew she was already working outside of the plan by not shooting Graves on sight, by planning to keep him alive for intel, but then again it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to seek permission. If she had been able to complete her objective the way she wanted to, she would have been able to debate the logic, win Price over. But external forces had caused the plan to go sideways. What was worse, in the momentary confusion, Graves was given his chance to run. Bullets flying in a confined space made keeping an eye on every moving body difficult. The whole bloody point of her infiltration had been flung out the window because of one brash soldier who couldn’t keep his head on straight…

Well, if that didn’t remind her of someone she knew…

When the dust settled and the emergency exit door had been left wide open, swinging in the breeze as the burnt orange glow of the coming sunset painted the cement walls in terracotta, her frustration boiled over. Flashbacks to her own youthful exuberance when emotions ran high flooded her head and it was like seeing the Russian Gentleman’s club play out again in deja vu. 

“Goddammit, Soap,” she snapped, rising up from behind cover, her rifle gripped tight in one hand at her side. “I had him!”

“You weren’t shootin’ at ‘im. Were you?” The young Scot marched up to her, standing toe to toe, blue eyes blazing as he glared down at her. 

Rory had dealt with Price in his most heated moments, tempers flaring wasn’t something that intimidated her in the slightest. A head shorter but years wiser, she looked him dead in the eye and brought her voice back to a calm level. “I had him in my sights.” “Save it,” Ghost interceded, stepping one large boot between her and the sergeant as he pressed his hand to Soap’s shoulder. “Don’t have time for this. Haul arse, let’s find ‘im.”

Soap gave a low, grunting growl as he stepped back, not bothering to offer any amends and following his Lieutenant’s orders. 

With a heavy sigh, she made her way to the exit door and was met by blue skies blending with the peach and pink grapefruit of sundown. Price and the pilot hovered in the helicopter above, circling and surveying the ground below, his voice rumbling through her radio,

”All stations, be advised, Graves went over the wall.”

She shook off the percolating irritation of interpersonal issues that came with working in a group and held her weapon at the ready, taking the rear while Soap and Rudy led the charge. But her aggravation was a short lived thing when the white glint of a missile being launched through the air caught her attention, the whine of it tearing upwards towards their helicopter screeching in her ears.

Before her brain could quite catch on to what was happening, the sharp flare of the aircraft being struck by an RPG blew out across her retinas. The after image of the helicopter going into a tailspin, flames bursting free from the rear rudder, black smoke trailing behind in a thick plume, caused her muscles to lock, left frozen mid-step.

”We’re hit! We’re hit!”

Rory had never heard John’s voice sound like that. For once he sounded concerned, the usual hoarse bark of his voice containing a strained choke. Her heart stopped beating, her breath held. She couldn’t do anything to stop it, couldn’t help. Made useless. An observer of the worst thing she could imagine. 

”We’re going down! We’re going down!”

Crashing behind one of the hangar buildings, smoke and sparks shot up into the sky as the ground shook with the cataclysmic fall of their support helicopter, the Captain and pilot still inside. The creaks and groans of metal crumpling were like a stab to her already aching heart, and in an instant, the act - nay, the farce - that her and Price had kept up for years, that what was between them was merely professional, platonic, was entirely shattered. 

“JOHN!” 

She screamed his name out for all to hear, her voice carrying over the barren base as she tore the mask off her face. Freed from the snake skin, tight and clinging, it dragged away from her tousled and sweat-slicked hair, leaving her tresses matted to her temples. Her eyeblack was smeared across the peaks of her cheekbones, streaky and staining her skin as she stared frozen in disbelief.  Her heart thundered in her chest with the sound of the explosion, the yawn of destructive flame eating its way through the fuselage. Only one thought remained in her head, thumping against the confines of her skull and crawling down her spine in a slow, horrible slither – Please God, let him be alive.

[sxrensxngwrites]

The Inner Circle Crushing on Someone from a Different Background -- Part Two

this request comes from anon, who asks: 'Head canons for the main dragon age squard (if you feel up to it of course!!!!) About them crushing on someone from a different background (example: cullen and someone rich)'

I ended up splitting this up because I got carried away... my bad. If you want any of these to be revisited or you want me to go into more detail, feel free to shoot me another ask! The same can be said if you want DA characters from different games.

Part One (Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole) Part Two (Cullen, Dorian, The Iron Bull) Part Three (Josephine, Leliana, Sera)

CULLEN:

Cullen’s family had many mouths to feed, but they never tried to make their kids feel like they were missing out on anything. However, as Cullen got older he began to realize how difficult it was for his parents. This led him to joining the Templars; working in the order was a very consistently paying job that gave him places to sleep, so he could very easily send money back to his family. Even after he leaves the Templars and joins the Inquisition, he finds himself double checking his finances out of habit. The Inquisition is tighter on money and resources in the beginning, so suddenly he’s back to watching every coin that comes into his possession.

Enter the object of his affection: a person who never had to worry about money ever before. They’re likely related to some nobility, whether it be from Ferelden or otherwise. Money had been a given, so they’re very quick to buy drinks for the whole Inner Circle or give out money to the villagers of Haven. Cullen admires their generosity, but it hurts him greatly to watch them treat their money with such irreverence. He wishes it didn’t bother him as much as it does. As Cullen begins to catch feelings, the formalities aren’t what trips up their relationship. In fact, they have little to no meaning after a month or so of knowing each other. 

However, now that they’re a full member of the Inquisition and the strains of the job are becoming more apparent, money is becoming an issue. Their family isn’t exactly pleased that they’ve spent family money on the ragtag Inquisition–it being seen as sacrilege at that point. So, their family cuts them off, forcing them to learn how to spend their resources wisely. As sad as it is for them (and disappointing for the Inquisition to be losing such an important donor), Cullen is somewhat relieved. Now he doesn’t have to watch them throw away their money as if it has no value.

They come together over it actually, Cullen giving sound advice on rationing their money and picking up jobs to help around Haven. Although it frustrated him initially, he finds their eagerness to learn rather endearing. They spend regular time together, Cullen teaching what he’s picked up about finances and them telling stories of their upbringing. They begin to understand one another better, and Cullen is sure that he’s smitten. Eventually–when money and war isn’t the primary focus of either of their lives–they decide to stay together after the Breach has been dealt with and pool their remaining savings together. 

DORIAN:

Growing up as a son of a Tevinter Magister, Dorian had quite a lot of resources at his beck and call. However, he never let that deter his outlook on other people. There might be some disagreements here and there, but Dorian never let it dictate who he kept in his company–especially after he left Tevinter for Ferelden and Orlais.

Most everyone in Dorian’s early life was a mage, so it wasn’t unsurprising to him that he would be attracted to a mage when he ran away further south. However, his new romantic interest was unlike any Tevinter Mage. After the fall of many of the Ferelden circles, it was only natural that they’d be deemed an apostate. They had to travel light, but it wasn’t like they ever had much to their name to begin with. That had been taken away before they even made it to the Circle. 

Dorian, while he doesn’t hide his standing, also doesn’t wave it in his peers’ faces to make them feel less than. His companion, on the other hand, is still afraid of announcing their mage status in the post-circle world of Ferelden. Upon their meeting, however, the two connect over their different relationships with magic. They share anecdotes, stories, and theories, ultimately bonding over a shared academic interest. Dorian sees them as an equal from the beginning.

Everything goes swimmingly until it becomes apparent how much sway Dorian’s family has in Tevinter. Still afraid of being found by any remaining Templars, his crush is cautious of any sort of fame. Even if it includes being involved with the son of a Tevinter Magister. It likely separates the two for a while, but then they each remember what brought them together in the first place: the possibilities of what could be in the future. Abandoning fear, the two rejoin together, seeking new avenues for each of them to progress their spheres of influences.

THE IRON BULL:

The Iron Bull was raised inside the Qun, following it up until it came in the way of him and The Chargers. Even then, it greatly influences how he interacts with others. For Bull, romantic and intimate relationships are a need to be fulfilled rather than a connection between people. 

Most cultures outside of the Qun think the opposite of intimacy: that it’s a special connection between people rather than a need to be fulfilled. Bull has met many people who think this way, but even then most of them are willing for their relationship to be short-lived. However, Bull meets a special someone that he has no intent of romancing: they’re a diplomatic bard in the court of Orlais with a soft spot for the romantic. 

They initially meet when the Bull’s Chargers are stationed in Orlais. Bull’s interest in them is initially surface level–a few interactions that will eventually fizzle out as he moves on to someone else. Little does he know, they’re very incapable of something as mild as a fling. So a friendship begins, Bull being filled in on all the Orlesian gossip by his new friend. A physical relationship might even begin, but Bull’s new “friend” is ever the romantic, and is severely disappointed when it doesn’t turn into a love to last all ages. When the Chargers are called away on business, they part ways. 

They’re reunited once again when Leliana and Josephine call an old friend to the Inquisition–and Bull is met with a broken heart he left back in Orlais. Of course, they’re very aware that the misunderstanding is their fault, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Over time, they learn to forgive Bull and see him as a friend. After everything is said and done, I believe Bull reframes the way he’s the world–now having chosen his friends over the Ben-Hassrath. Once he’s had some time to reassess who he really is and who he wants, he might let the romantic have another try.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE