#and my dai inquisitor the odd one out

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

“Are you hungry or not?”

Crosshair x F!Reader One Shot

Summary:

Prison life is already unfair as it is, but when a clone guard ends up being your solitary warden you may have no choice but to do what ever he says.

WC: 4405- Read on Ao3

*this is just my general "mature rating" specifics:

Content Warning:

Smut. Coercion/Questionable consent, Uneven power dynamic, Unethical Dom Crosshair, Oral (f receiving), Orgasm denial, begging, humiliation (?... sure), Unprotected PiV and creampie, Light restraining, mind games. Rough all around.

Authors Note: I was not able to make in universe swearing work with this one, so FUCK it is. Also, I took all of One Shot Cross's ethic points and gave them to Disgrace Crosshair so now this one is just an utter menace. Hope that helps.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Hours had passed. 

Normally, there'd be an orderly with a food tray, then the inquisitors with their scowling guard, but today…

You sprawled on the bunk and  looked at the clock in your plain cell and your stomach growled. Hours since the usual meal time. 

Are they trying to starve a confession out of me?

It wouldn't help, you weren't an insurrectionist. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Didn't stop them from locking you away. They had no intention of letting anyone suspected of treason see trial anytime soon. Stuck in holding limbo while they questioned you day after day... Till days became months. 

But not today. 

You jumped as the door swished open without the usual warning clamor of boots or the rattle of the food cart. Bolting upright you turned on your bed to face the door. 

A single clone trooper was framed in the doorway holding a tray of food casually in one hand. 

This one was odd; Overly tall, slim with narrow features and a shock of white hair. He was a familiar sight, usually standing behind the Lieutenant that was leading the questioning for the day. He was the one that snickered when you suggested your inquisitor eat his own testicles. 

The light glinted off the ominous black armor as he paced through the harsh white room and set the tray on the metal table in the middle with a sharp clatter. Then he stepped back, twirling the toothpick between his lips as he observed you,

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Are you hungry or not?”

You were, but you eyed the soldier suspiciously,

“Where’s everyone else? Why's it just you?”

He smirked,

“Seems they forgot about you… guess that makes you my problem,”

You weren't sure what that meant, but it looked like the best answer you'd get for now. Standing, you cautiously crossed the few feet to the table and perched on one of the attached metal seats by the tray. 

It had the usual: protein gel, fresh piece of fruit, portion of hard grain bread and water… and…a dessert. 

That's new…

You eyed the small canister of sweet custard before flicking your gaze to the soldier. 

“You… sticking around?”

“Mm”

You picked up the utensils on the tray and poked at the jelly mass that represented most of your daily calories. With only him standing there it felt… awkward. 

“If it's just you, why don't you sit?... This feels too… watched.”

It wasn't just the situation. He was watching you. Intently. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull every time you looked down. You offered again,

“Sit.”

“You're in no position to be giving orders…”

…

He sat. Elbows on the table, hands folded under rested chin, eyes… focused on your face. 

You gave up trying to eat the undignified nutrient paste under such scrutiny and picked up the stone fruit instead, biting into its soft flesh to fill your mouth with tangy juice that ran down your chin. 

He watched. 

“Seriously… What are you doing here, Trooper?”

“Commander.”

“Commander trooper.”

“Crosshair.”

You glanced over the tattoo around his eye. 

Yeah, that makes sense. 

“You still haven't answered me Commander.”

“I already did. They. Forgot. You. Fallen between the cracks.”

“But you didn't?”

His cheeks tinged the most subtle shade of pink. He didn't answer. 

“So, now I'm your problem…”

“Indeed. No one will be coming to feed you, No more questions, Just you, this cell… and me,”

There was a growl to his voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn't want to guess at what he was implying, though you didn't need to. He stood leaning on his palms against the table top, a devilish look in his eyes. 

“Do you want to keep eating, inmate?”

You gulped, taking in his posture, his expression, his eyes boring hungrily into you. 

“You're not suggesti-”

“I am.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

You sat straight, shifting uncomfortably. There wasn't denying you had looked at the soldier before, even had the intrusive thought to ask him to stay behind once or twice… but this…

“This is an abuse of your position, soldier…”

He snatched out, fingers digging into your cheeks as he roughly turned your face up to look at him. 

“It's a risk, sneaking food down here, what's a little… mutual benefit? I bring you food, you give me whatever I want,”

He leaned in breath hot against your ear,

“You get to eat… and so do I.”

Your breath caught as an unbidden heat warmed your inner thighs… those long months of isolation making you easy to tease. This was unfair and you bit your cheek in indignation. 

“Think about it. I'll be back tomorrow… but if I stick around after that… that's up to you.”

He moved from the table, punching a code into the door and slipping out in a fluid motion leaving you to stew with what might possibly be your second to last meal. 

~~~

You sat at the edge of the bunk, leg bouncing in distress as you looked over the dirty tray from yesterday. No one had come for it. The automated lights clicked out and then back on again and no one had come to get the tray. They always came to get the tray. 

The door swished open. Crosshair, laden with food, scanning till he saw your jittery form on the bunk. 

“Hey, asshole, what's the big idea?”

They can't have really… 

But he just shrugged,

“I told you the deal,”

He placed the tray on the table, more carefully than before, and lowered himself to the bench opposite it. Elbows up, chin on folded hands… watching you. 

“Eat.”

…

“And if I do?”

His lip twitched into that mirthless smirk again,

“Then I'll take it you've come to terms with your… predicament.”

You stifled a shiver, already feeling naked under his intense gaze. 

“Wh-when… how soon… after?”

Your voice wobbled slightly and his eyebrow rose, like he wasn't expecting you to play along so easily. You flushed and turned from his staring.  

I can't believe I'm even-

“Tomorrow.”

Your heart fluttered, confusing you, and you turned back to him.

“I'll be back tomorrow… be ready for me,”

He left quickly, leaving you with your conflicted thoughts and lackluster meal.

You could swear this was… anticipation. 

Your thighs clenched against the warmth pooling through you. 

~~~

Your heart was in your throat. You could feel it, you knew that if you just opened your mouth in the mirror you would see it beating there. So you stared at your reflection with your jaw clenched, hair dripping cold rivlettles down your skin.

You looked at your last pair of clean prison scrubs and wondered what it was gonna cost to get a fresh set from your new clone warden. 

Speaking of,

The door swished open, and you looked up to catch his eyes in the open fresher mirror. He was looking bemused over your toweled, dripping visage. 

“I said be ready but I wasn't expecting you so… eager,”

You flushed, snatching the scrubs and slipping them on over the towel, dropping the damp cloth once you were properly clothed. He snickered, and you spun back to face him. Crosshair took a measured step towards you but hesitated, turning instead to gesture at the tray that had appeared on the table. 

“This… is your half,”

“I'm not exactly hungry, right this second…”

He shrugged, then rushed you. You felt the cold panels of the walls against your back as you were pinned to them. 

“My half then.”

“Wait!”

He rocked back, letting you slide out from under him to catch your breath. 

“Don't just… come at me like that,”

His hand closed on your wrist, tugging you back around.

“The food is for you, inmate. This,”

He tugged you into him squeezing your ass through the rough fabric,

“This is for me, My pleasure. Don't mistake that,”

You were tossed roughly into the bunk, the matress hitting the back of your knees to buckle them and you sat with a thump. He loomed over you, tugging off his gloves, a dangerous fire in his sharp eyes. 

“The only thing you decide is who gets theirs first,”

You trembled, looking up at the man knowing with all assuredness that he was going to take you. You knew it would be rough. You knew from every little intrusive thought you had when your eyes would meet his over some suit shoulder or another the past few months. 

…

“Take yours,”

A wicked smile broke his intensity, and he stripped off more armor. You noticed he hadn't brought a gun today… Clever. 

His outer shell dropped away, leaving him in his tight black under suit and boots. 

“On your knees,”

You made to protest but he caught your jaw, hooking his thumb between your teeth to hold you by your pallet. 

“Not your decision, On. Your. Knees. ”

You made a noise in your throat, all you could really manage. He nodded your head for you with a flick of his wrist before releasing you to position yourself, tugging you by your hair when you made to angle your ass to him; instead, he positioned you parallel to the edge. Pressure on the back of your neck and you collapsed, cheek pressed to the sheets and ass high over your knees. 

“Perfect,”

He purred. The mattress dipped as he sat behind you, firm hands brushing over the fabric guarding your rump to rest on your pelvis just before the small of your back. Fingers toyed with the hem of your useless scrubs, before slipping into them; feeling your hips, he traced them down your navel till he could feel the heat of you. You gasped as he brushed against the tender lips at the apex of your thighs. He ventured further, dipping his fingertip into the warmth of you to slide the evidence of your arousal back over the petals. 

A groan escaped him when he felt how wet you were. Dipping into your again, too shallow, but you wouldn't admit you needed more even as a small moan played across your lips. 

“Have you been wanting this?”

You didn't answer, hiding your flushed cheeks against the mattress. 

His hands withdrew and the bottoms were yanked down to your knees. 

You couldn't see him from this angle, just his legs casually sitting behind your exposed thighs… and his fingers, gripping those thighs hard. You could tell he was looking you over and you flushed even hotter. This was no good, it had been too long…

The muscles of your sex twitched in need, and you could feel slick fluid drip down your heated cunt to fall from your lips onto the sheets. You were growing more sensitive with your increased pulse alone. Not good.  

You felt him reach for your wrists, pulling your arms to fold behind your back. He held them like that one handed, and you could feel him shift closer to you, sitting on your calves to pin them, legs draping over yours and face almost even with your raised buttock. You felt his breath stir against your quim and you whimpered. 

“Remember, inmate,”

He had sensed your eagerness for what he was possitioning himself for.

“My pleasure, not yours.”

His leg wrapped around your arched back, bringing the distinct feeling of a boot sole against the back of your head. You almost turned to look but your head was pushed back down, ground under his heel. You whimpered again, unable to move with him restraining your body so efficiently with his own. 

“My pleasure.”

And then his tongue plunged into you, making you jerk and gasp as the sudden intrusion. 

He worked his tongue in and out of your cunt with slow, even drags that had you moaning weakly into the sheet. Groans rumbled through the sensitive skin whenever your walls would clench around his flexing muscle and he’d push deeper, digging his nose and teeth against you as he attempted to reach fully into your depths. 

Anytime you jerked too violently his boot would crush you down again, arms tugged tighter together to pull your hips firmer against his face. His lips moved lower, sucking your sensitive bud into his mouth with a whisper of satisfaction that made you squirm. A soft sob choked from you.

He held you tight as he flicked his tongue against your clit, making you jolt and tremble. Your legs began to shake as the mounting pressure started to build up to a crescendo…

And he pulled back, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips. 

“You'll come when I want you to.”

Teeth sank into your ass and you cried out only for it to be muffled by his boot shoving your face into the mattress. Then he was working your cunt again, lapping at the dripping petals to make you gasp. 

Torture. 

They had sent him to torture you. 

The seemingly endless cycle of being licked to an edge just to have him stop cold, lean back and watch as you shook and squirmed for some semblance of relief… it was torture. 

You're not sure when you started to beg, but as another climax was yanked from you a choked pleading tore from your throat. 

“Please, Crosshair, let me cum!”

Boot. Mattress. Then his mouth back to your folds, lapping hard against your swollen and sensitive clit. 

You groaned lustily against the sheet without that pesky dignity from before, he wasn't gonna be able to keep you from going over for long. Every brush, every lick felt like it could be your undoing. 

You felt weak, trying to twist your wrists away from his grip but it was useless; his hand closed over them like a vice. Your body had started to shake and wouldn't stop. He pulled away again and you bucked against his hold, 

“Krriffff, Crosshair, please,”

He chuckled, drawing his tongue across the length of your slit from front to back making you sob and your pelvis to clench. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want t-to cum… please,”

He pressed his thumb to your entrance with his free hand, adding the smallest hint of pressure to make you moan. 

“Be more specific.”

“Please, I want to cum… make me cum,”

It wasn't exactly coherent, the words spilling from you,

He clicked his tongue,

“If you just want to cum you can do that yourself,”

Another jolt of pressure, his thumb pulling your lips open slightly to expose your opening more clearly. 

“What. Do. You. Want?”

You whined under his boot heel, trying to wiggle your ass to push against his thumb, desperate for any contact. 

“I want you to make me cum, Crosshair, please make me cum! Kriff, please?”

He made a contented noise that rumbled through his chest, sliding his thumb forward to spread your petals, lifting the hood over your clit… and blew. 

Your senses exploded, all your muscles going tight at once and he lunged, sucking your button roughly, nipping his teeth against the bundled nerves driving the climax deeper through your brain. You came, rigid against his firm hold, unable to even cry out as your lungs were crushed by your own spasming. Fluid ran down your legs, chased by his tongue. There were sparkles in your vision, your synapsis on fire… and then you were spent, falling limp and gasping against him. 

He kissed your ass cheek, then bit it lightly before pulling your bottoms back up and untangling himself from your numb limbs. 

Crosshair rose from the bed, stretched, then reached for his discarded armor… confusing you,

“Was that really all you wanted?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, now sprawled prone over the bed, and smirked. A triumphant look danced behind his eyes. 

“What else might I want?”

Your gaze roved over his tight muscles, barely hidden under the tight black fabric of his under clothing. Down his shoulders to his hips, the tight buttock and thighs. Your appraisal wasn't unnoticed and he turned slightly, letting you look at him more. His chest, his abs… your eyes darted down to the straining fabric at his groin and a small, needy moan escaped you as your pussy twitched. 

“Don't you want to fuck me?”

A slight smile played across his lips, dancing behind his eyes. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Stars yes…”

There was no use denying it. Now that he was here, partially stripped and hard for you there was no way you were letting him leave. 

“Fuck me, Crosshair,”

He turned fully towards you, stroking himself thoughtfully through the fabric of his pants. 

“I suppose I could fuck you, How ba~dly… do you want me to fuck you, inmate?”

“Badly… awfully, Please take me, Crosshair,”

You ground your hips into the mattress, watching him standing there, stroking himself lazily…so nonchalant…

Damn it…

“Take your close off, inmate.”

He stepped back, leaning himself against the table. 

 You obediently say up, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

“Slower.”

The command hit you in your core, and your breath came shaky as you, slowly, tugged the shirt up over your breasts, then head… and it was off. Your nipples hardened at the sudden cold air, having dressed too hastily to find under things. Next came the pants, and you hooked your thumbs into the band. 

“Stand for those.”

You stood with a wobble, legs still feeling more like jelly than flesh and bone. The waistband slipped down your hips, your thighs, then fell to the floor. 

He palmed his covered cock as he took in your nudity. 

“Be a good girl and give me a little turn,”

His fingers made a spin motion and you swallowed, waiting for a sense of indignation, an urge to stop this that never came. You obeyed. Turning slowly, letting him see your back and ass, then facing him again. 

“Very good… now get on all fours, facing me,”

You flushed, but did as he said, lowering yourself to your hands and knees to look at him from the floor. 

“Come here, like that. Crawl to me, sweetheart.”

You balked for the first time in this new routine, flushing a deep red at the humiliating command. He cocked an eyebrow,

“If you don't want to I could always leave…”

You gritted your teeth, knowing you weren't likely to deny anything he asked from this point, and crawled forward. The bare panel flooring was hard against your knees but you closed the distance, coming even with his legs casually leaning against the table. 

“Now tell me… what do you want?”

You gulped, your vision completely dominated by his visage poised over you. Relaxed, in control, slowly stroking the outline of his length to tease you more than himself. 

“I-i want you to fuck me, Crosshair,”

“You can do better than that… what exactly do you want?”

He gripped himself pointedly through his blacks and your vision blurred with need. Lips trembling, a hint of pleading back in your voice,

“I want your cock…”

“Where do you want it?”

…

“Inside me.”

Flushing, you looked away, his knee nudged your chin to meet his eyes again. 

“All together now, from the top…”

“I want you to fuck me, Crosshair, I want your… cock inside of me.”

Your eyes stayed obediently on his, his knee still pressed to your cheek. 

“You can be nicer than that,”

Exasperation forced a frustrated sigh from you, causing his eyebrows to raise again and your jaw to clench. 

“Please, fuck me, Crosshair… I want your cock inside me… please…”

As the first plea left you a shiver went down your spine, a small thrill from the submissive action. You nuzzled the knee pressed to your chin, forcing his eyes to widen for a brief second. 

“If you want it so badly, darling, why don't you just take it then?”

He slid to sit on the bench proper, legs spread wide to either side of you, crotch jutted towards your eager, lustful expression. 

“Why don't you fuck yourself on my cock?”

He smirked down, rolling his hips subtly to challenge you into action. 

Perhaps he didn't expect you to take the invitation, but as your hands lashed out to hook his waistband, the fasteners pulled open with a sharp snap… he stilled. Elbows on the table behind him, still leaned in a relaxed posture, but frozen in a temporary trance. You tugged the fly the rest of the way open and his heavy cock sprang free, bopping you lightly in the nose making you flinch involuntarily. 

This broke the spell as he failed to repress a snort of amusement. You narrowed your eyes at him and he composed himself as well as he could with that glint in his eye.

“Sorry, go on,”

You nipped at the head of his bobbing member making him hiss between his teeth. A hand roughly caught the back of your neck pulling you up off your knees and into his lap. 

“I believe I told you to fuck yourself, inmate,”

His free hand grabbed your hip, grinding your bare sex against his shaft for emphasis eliciting a needy groan from your chest. 

You decided to comply, tucking your feet over his thighs for leverage, you angled your torso up over him. He rested his arms back on the table once more as you balanced your hands on his shoulders. His length slid along your folds as you moved and you shivered, poised with him resting against your entrance. Rivulets of arousal trickled down his velvety skin to catch in the soft brush of pubic hair nested around its base. 

“Well, I'm waiting…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath counting a heartbeat before opening them again. Meeting his eyes you couldn't help but think his features seemed softer from up here. 

Easing your thigh muscles down, you carefully pushed him into yourself, slowly… an inch, then withdrawing, dropping an inch further, making sure he was lubricated with you from base to tip. When he was fully docked inside you ground your hips into him, feeling his hard length pushing deep against your inner limit and you moaned in satisfaction. 

Finally, 

He was biting his lip, keeping his reactions to a minimum as you began to move on him. Desperate little hops with your hips to bounce yourself. He seemed to enjoy you doing all the work, eyes dropping to watch how your breasts bobbed in front of him. A sliver of his tongue darted across his lips but he didn't move, didn't react, as he watched you ride him, desperately using him to get your self off. 

You were frustrated, wanting it harder but knowing better than to ask for help. That wasn't what you were told to do. So you rolled your hips, bucking against him to find that bliss yourself. 

Leaning back, you put your hands on his knees, tightening your pelvis and putting more power into your hips. His calm veneer broke and he grabbed onto your hips, keeping you anchored on his shaft as climax started to cloud your vision. Your motions and breathing became erratic, taking his guiding force on your hips as permission to let go you ground against him with reckless abandon, hurtling yourself over the edge,

“F~u~...”

Your voice cut out with a strangled cry and he pulled you down on him, sheathing himself in you with an ecstatic groan as your muscles convulsed and clamped down on his shaft. 

He lifted you up, carrying you back to the bunk, plunking your ass against the mattress before pushing you over to lay on your stomach. 

Your arms were grabbed and held behind your back once more as he angled himself back into your warm cunt. His weight dropped onto your back and you were pressed flat under him. His hips started to pump into you, quick and sharp as he grew comfortable with your shape under him and he started to ramp up the force. 

A vulgar clapping of skin echoed through the room as he pounded into you, grunting from exertion as he took you hard. His free hand turned your head to look over your shoulder at him before dropping to grip your neck. 

“Do you like this, sweetheart?”

All he got for an answer was a series of sharp, high pitched gasps from the rapid snapping of his hips. 

“Getting wet for me like that…”

He groaned in his throat, grinding deeply into you making you sob in pleasure.

“You like the thought of being my cock slave?”

“Yes… kriffs sake yes…”

“That's right.”

Your breathing went ragged as he pushed himself up on his knees, pulling your waist with him. He moved his arms and hips in tandem to pump his full length in and out of you and you broke, orgasm driving your walls to slam around his thrusting rod until he couldn't take it any more himself. 

He pulled your shoulders up, arms sliding around your chest and hand cupping your jaw hooking fingers into your mouth. You were held against his chest as his cock twitched violently inside of you, a throb for every spurt of seed he shot into your warmth. 

He nuzzled into your neck breathless, tone softer than it had been,

“You were so good for me, darling… so good…”

You couldn't answer around his fingers, so you sucked them, sliding your tongue between them as he groaned. 

~~~

The last piece of his armor latched on with a click as you dried your hair, thinking about this new arrangement as you looked at the food still on the table… you weren't sure you could complain. Well you could but…

You glanced over at him, adjusting something at his wrist before he looked up, finding you fully dressed as well. 

…

…

“Alright… come on then,”

“What? C’mon where?”

He paced over to the door, tapping at the panel. 

“You’ve been released. The doors been unlocked for days,”

“Wha-”

As the realization hit you anger washed through your senses and with out thinking you grabbed the fruit from the tray, chucking it at his head. 

He caught it deftly and with a smirk in your direction, took a big bite out of the flesh, letting the juice run down his chin. 

[simpforsolas]

on spirit cole

When I first played DAI, I made Cole more human. It felt better to me. Making him human makes him more relatable and allows him to change and grow in ways that feel good to players. But my most recent replay, it's amazing how much my opinion changed.

My fundamental issue with a lot of human Cole arguments is this idea that making Cole human makes him "real." It's an extremely human-centric viewpoint (and by human I just mean intelligent mortal beings - this includes qunari, elves, and dwarves). It's this idea that in order to be "real," in order to be something valuable, you have to fit into a specific mold that's palatable and understandable by people. But in reality, spirit Cole is just as real and as valid as human Cole. Sure, he's different. Sure, he can't live a mortal life and experience typical mortal relationships. But he's still REAL. Spirits are beautiful and wonderful beings just as they are, and they shouldn't have to change into something more human to start to be seen as valuable. It simply takes embracing a different perspective to see the inherent beauty in them.

Consider this line of dialogue you get in the spirit Cole route:

"You found out, but you didn't change." The context of this line is that Cole is talking about Rhys, the mage who befriended Cole but then abandoned him when he realized what Cole truly was: a spirit. Cole has intimate experience with friends leaving him when they find out his true nature, so imagine how meaningful it is to him when the inquisitor doesn't do that. They learn he's a spirit and continue to treat him the same. Nothing changes in their relationship. Then he goes on to say, "You didn't make me change. You let me be this, be more." And that, my friends, is the core of why I love the spirit Cole route so so much. You meet this being who is different and odd, who frightens people just by being himself and wants nothing more than to help. And instead of treating him differently or encouraging him to change into something that you personally might relate to better, you accept him as he is. You don't make him change. If you listen to Cole, he seems so incredibly happy about it, too. He's happy to remain a spirit, as long as he can continue helping people and maintain the relationships he built.

And yes, Spirit Cole also does retain feelings and emotions. He expresses joy when Corypheus was unable to bind him, he expresses sadness when Solas leaves. As we learn from Solas's quest, you can certainly have friendships with spirits. It's just a different kind of relationship, and that's the entire point: Different is okay. I think that this speaks to me on a deep, personal level because of past relationships where I was made to feel like there was something wrong with the authentic, true me. Like I was broken. I felt that in order to be accepted, I had to minimize parts of myself and pretend to be someone I wasn't. So to see Cole be so wholly accepted just as he is and to not be encouraged to change was extremely cathartic for me, and I believe that's the entire point of Spirit Cole. Unapologetic acceptance for someone as they are.

There is the argument to be made that Cole wanted to be more human. After all, he took on the original Cole's identity and tricked himself into believing he was human (if you read Asunder you will know this). But I would argue that Cole never explicitly wanted to be human. He accidentally stumbled into taking on Cole's identity because his compassion and empathy was so strong and he identified so deeply with his pain, that he became him. If you talk to Cole, though, he never expresses a preference one way or the other.

Now, don't take this to mean that I don't think the human Cole route isn't lovely in its own way. There's something beautiful about self-determination and not feeling bound to stick as one thing just because you were born one way or raised to believe that you had to be one way. But all that said, I personally resonate more with spirit Cole and will be a spirit Cole truther forever.

[kcwriter-blog]

An Argument in Favor of Solas as the Family Dog

It’s been posited, sometimes facetiously, that Solas was the “family dog” in his younger days. It’s a theory I have been kicking around for a while. If I’m right (and I’m probably not) Solas as the equivalent to the family dog makes a lot of sense – especially when it comes to what he has done in the past and what he plans to do in the future.

My theory is based on the number and positioning of the many Fen’Harel statues found throughout Thedas and in some of the places our Inquisitor travels to in Trespasser. There’s also the odd role wolves seem to play in Elven cuture. Finally, there is Solas’ personality. More under the cut.

We see statues of wolves all over the place but generally they are found in front of ancient Elvhen sites. There are statues at the Temple of Mythal, the Temple of Dirthamon and the grove in Crestwood. I also recently found one near Ghilan’nain’s grove. We see a lot of wolf statues in the Dales (we will get to the Emerald Knight companion thing, presently). Given that Fen’Harel was a rebel in ancient times and the equivalent of the Dalish devil in current day Thedas, what gives? Why all the statues? At the very least they should have been destroyed when he rebelled. It doesn’t make sense.

Let’s look at the positioning of the statues. Invariably we see a reclining wolf placed outside what we’ll call the inner sanctuary. That is, they are always at the front before you go into the place you would pray or make your offerings. It’s not a stretch to believe these statues are guarding the temples. We also see wolf statues placed all over the Vir Dirthara. That’s an even weirder place to see them because Solas implies that he isn’t called Fen’Harel until after his rebellion – so why a statue and why one in a guardian position? We do see howling wolves sometimes. They are mostly seen decorating eluvians. Again, they seem to be guarding or protecting something.

Moving along, we learn about the wolf companions the Emerald Knights have. This is also odd. Why wolves? Fen’Harel is theoretically a Trickster God and responsible for locking up the other gods. Usually, when a culture equates a god with negative attributes, people are wary around the animal representing it. Not in this case. These are guardian wolves and there are statues of them all over the Dales. I don’t think all the statues are of wolf companions. Many of the wolf statues are carved into mountainsides and they are gigantic. It would take a long time to create those without magic. And let’s not forget the statues we see underneath waterfalls in Watcher’s Reach and the Exalted Plains. They should be worn away by the water but aren’t. Watcher’s Reach is an old Elven ruin. Magic presumably keeps them from being worn down. Why? Because Fen’Harel is guarding the Dales.

Fen’Harel as guardian can also be seen in Dalish practice. A statue of Fen’Harel is always placed outside the camp to guard against demons. Given that he is thought of as practically a demon himself, this is again, weird behavior.

The stories we hear about him in Masked Empire are also interesting, particularly the Slow Arrow. In it, a village is beset by a monster. The other gods refuse to help so they turn to Fen’Harel. He answers their prayers by showing up. He realizes he can’t defeat the monster. He is then presented with a hard choice. He can attempt to kill it, even though he knows he will probably die and if that happens so will everyone in the village, or he can do something clever and save some of them. So, he launches the slow arrow. The monster comes, kills the adults but dies before it can kill the children. This is in keeping with Solas’ fairly pragmatic personality. It also illustrates that Fen’Harel, out of all the gods, even Mythal is always willing to come to the aid of the People.

So, what can we make of this? I believe Fen’Harel was and still is tasked with protecting the People. In a sense he fulfills the position of an Aavar hold beast. How did this happen? I’m not sure. Mythal could have called him out of the Fade with the purpose of protecting the People during the war with the Titans. His spirit could have been bound to a giant wolf. In the Deep Roads there is a codex that indicates depictions of Mythal were found alongside those of Fen’Harel. We know spirits can be reborn. If the giant wolf fell in battle, it might have been reborn and placed in an Elvhen body. Was it a body of it’s own or did it share a body in a similar fashion to Anders and Justice?

Solas as guardian of the People fits in other ways. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, he would have been part of the inner circle. He has some very nice castles and talks about missing court intrigue. He had status. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, serving as their guard dog would give him that status

Also, in the library, the spirits replay the final days of the elves when the Veil goes up. They are shocked that Fen’Harel would do something like this. Why? He’s been rebelling for a while so why the surprise? Maybe because he’s supposed to protect The People, not hurt them.

What could have happened? As the Evanuris became more corrupt they began hurting the People. They enslaved them, used them for experiments, hunted them and sacrificed them. If your purpose is to protect the People, what do you as a spirit do?

We see how Cole is diverted from his purpose as a spirit of Compassion into a spirit who performs mercy killings. He’s not the exact opposite of Compassion but he isn’t fulfilling his purpose either. A spirit with a body seems to be more complex. It’s not so binary. If Solas was a bound spirit, the only way to protect his charges might be to do what he did.

Fast-forward to the present day. He wakes up, sees how his people are treated and feels duty-bound to do what he can to save them. In this case by tearing down the Veil. It could be seen as a compulsion.

I’ve probably missed a ton of other evidence but in my opinion, all signs point to Solas at one time being the Protector of the People whose purpose was then twisted. I’d be interested in knowing what other people think. 

[leliwardens]

Going back to the whole “why do you want to roleplay as a bigot or an asshole in veilguard?” question, I’m reminded of another issue with that: Rook may be generically heroic, but the lack of roleplay means that we’re stuck with whatever bioware considers heroic. “Rook is a good person, so they hate blood magic.” Cool, I personally think that blood magic is no big deal. It’s not even about wanting to be an asshole, it’s being stuck with what the writers consider ���not an asshole” to be, y’know?

(post in question, it's a good one)

Strong, strong, STRONG agree anon. This is (or one of the biggest) core issues when you stack Rook against the previous MCs, or just an MC on their own. At an obvious base level, you have to do certain things as each MC: stop the Blight, keep Kirkwall/your loved ones safe, stop Corypheaus, and so on. You can't deviate from that path, but how you get from point A to point B is the driving part and while DAI was more restrictive in terms of roleplaying, it still...let you? do that?

For example my Hawke hard pivots from pro-mage to pro-templar in act 3, she's unstable, tired of loss, running on grief, and other good things with my own reasons to have her do so, and I have the freedom to do that. Hawke still has to fight Meredith and Orsino and deal with your friends, but I got to choose how to do so. And the inverse is true! A Hawke having the choice to side with Meredith, but instead fight against the odds to save the mages as the obv popular choice, but it is a choice! It doesn't railroad you into supporting only the mages because that's the "good" or "heroic" option.

This in turn, lets you, the player, project your own reasons for those choices in your head or in your fanon. My Warden was so deeply afraid she killed Connor herself so a mother didn't have to kill her own son, my Hawke was so jaded by loss she would wipe the city out to keep her sister safe, my Inquisitor vows to stop Solas despite being the closest of friends to protect the world. These character bits happened because Bioware didn't force any of it on me, I can define why they did it, because I had the freedom of that choice.

In my head and how I've approached concrit with Veilguard is I've circled back to an article I read years and years ago about Mass Effect and the Renegade option. The devs knew it wasn't very popular with the fans but still kept it in, because the choice of picking it, but also not picking it, was what was important.

Having the choice was critical for engagement, and Veilguard so critically missed the mark about it.

[vodika-vibes]

The Seer

Summary: With the Fall of the Republic, and the destruction of the Jedi, your specific talents have made you a target. Luckily for you, with the right ambience, you can make even the most determined Inquisitor think that you’re a fraud. Unluckily for you, your fraud has caught the attention of some very dangerous spirits, and they will stop at nothing to see you punished.

Pairing: Future TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: Mentions of Order 66, Reader is literally haunted

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal (since you like hunter ^-^)

A/N: I had an idea, so I decided to run with it. (My husband and friends are making onigiri for dinner with pork and I'm already sick so I'm not having dinner, I guess)

One year ago today, you were a Jedi.

Well, okay, you were a Jedi Padawan who had been sentenced to a year in the EduCorps due to something that you may, or may not, have done.

It had been a slog. So many books, so many papers, so many people lording their intelligence over you simply because they were assigned to the “smart” corps.

You hated it at the time, and even now, a year later, the memory is still enough to make you grumbly. Just, not as much as you used to be.

It’s hard to hate people who were wiped out to the last, after all.  

Sometimes, late at night, you wonder how different things would have been if your nightmares and visions had been taken seriously. Would the Order have survived the Purge? Would the Clones have not turned on them? Would the Council have foreseen the betrayal?

And, like, sure. You know that visions don’t always come true. And you know that sometimes, in the process of trying to make something not come true you can make it happen faster. But! You’d been having the same nightmare since the start of the war.

Surely that had to have meant something?!

Your Master…disagreed.

He disagreed with you about a lot of things.

Not that he’s around to disagree with you on things anymore. He died in the purge…just like everyone else.

You only survived because the night before the purge, the Force practically screamed a warning for you to move, to go, and to never look back. And so you did.

You heard about the Purge 16 hours after it happened. And ever since that moment, you’ve been running.

Bouncing from planet to planet, jumping from job to job, trying to stay one step ahead of the Inquisitors and the Imperial soldiers who would absolutely execute you if they caught you.

That was until you, while working an odd job for a pirate, stumbled across a woman being harassed by Imperial Soldiers. She was an odd looking woman, draped in long skirts and long shawls, with large earrings and intricate paint decorating her pale blue skin. 

The woman claimed to be a seer blessed by the spirits, and could foresee the future and allow the Imperials to speak with their deceased family. She waxed poetic about lucky charms and tarot readings, and, to your genuine shock, they left, calling her a lunatic.

You stare at the woman, your jaw dropped, and she winked at you, before she went back to hawking her lucky charms.

It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Foolishness.

Ridiculous.

And yet…

And yet, if it’s stupid and it works, then is it really stupid?

Two months later, you open a little shop on Pabu, selling lucky charms, tarot readings, and love readings to anyone who wants to pay you. And a lot of people want to pay you.

You clad yourself in long skirts and loose shawls, and you let your hair hang freely around your head, tied out of your eyes by a ribbon that matches your outfit.

And not a single person pegs you as an actual Jedi.

Con-artist and miracle worker, but not Jedi.

It’s not really how you foresaw your life going, but really, being called a  con-artist is better than being a Jedi any day of the week. Especially since Jedi means dead.

And that is how your days go…right up until Phee brought clones to your shop.

You love Phee, absolutely adore her, but the moment you see clones standing in your shop you are wondering how quickly you can kill her and dispose of her body without anyone missing her.

Still, you’re no fool. So you plaster your most vapid smile on your face and swish around them offering free tarot readings since they are friends of Phee.

You are almost offended when the one in glasses tells you that your tarot readings are a load of hogwash.

Almost.

After all, it’s not like you actually believe this nonsense either.

But, since Phee is a friend and she considers the clones her friends, you decide to tolerate them. After all, they seem very reasonable, not at all like the men you had nightmares of for three years.

And slowly, over time, you end up becoming friends with them.

Wrecker is always good for laughs, and he is more than happy to come around and help you move heavy objects. Tech takes one look at your electrical panel and nearly has a heart attack on the spot. In fact, aside from Omega, who thinks you’re a little weird and likes to keep her distance, the only one you don’t spend a large amount of time with is Hunter.

Echo quietly tells you that the incense that you use around your shop, incense you use to keep force spirits from harassing you, gives him a migraine, and you feel guilty enough that you put them away and air out the shop.

Which brings you to today.

Today you’re wearing shorts and a tank top, and you’ve abandoned your mystical look in favor of more practical ‘running for your life’ attire. 

The Empire didn’t find you. No. That would have been easy.

You can kill Imperial Soldiers.

You can’t kill Force Ghosts.

In your defense, you don’t mean to get Hunter involved.

And you definitely don’t mean to crash into him at full speed. 

Hunter catches you before you hit the ground, which is probably a good thing because running into plastoid armor at full speed is not something that you recommend.

He looks…surprised as he sets you back on your feet.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wearing miles of fabric.” He says slowly, and then his eyes narrow, “What are you running from?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You blurt, your eyes darting one way and then the other. 

He opens his mouth to say something and then he stills, his nostrils flaring, “What is that?”

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

And then the sensation washes over you. Cold, like ice nipping at your fingers and the tip of your nose. Followed by the whispers, barely words, yet radiating malice.

“I…have to go. Now. I have to go now.” You blurt as you try to twist out of his grip, only for Hunter to grab your shoulders and jerk you to the side.

A sensation, like that of a hand grabbing for you, brushes passed your arm, causing an immediate bruise to form on your arm.

Hunter stares at the red bruise on your arm, “Time to go.”

“Yep.” You agree immediately, “Away from people, preferably.”

Hunter takes your hand and starts pulling you away from the spirits…things…that are hunting you. 

Luckily he seems to be able to sense them better than you can.

Half an hour later, you’re on the outskirts of the city and you, who haven't worked out properly since well before the Purge, are panting for air as you run after him.

“What did you do to make invisible enemies? And what are they?” Hunter demands as he jerks you to one side and then twists you so that two different spirits aren’t able to touch you.

“Um…no comment, and I think they’re spirits.”

“Please tell me that’s a joke?”

“Uh…no.”

“You’re telling me that ghosts are real?” Hunter demands as he jumps down into a stream and then lifts you up onto the other ledge.

“Well-”

Hunter just sighs, and drops the subject. He stops for a moment, his hand on your shoulder, and he listens. “Okay, I think we’re safe for now. I can’t hear them.”

You collapse onto a rock with a sigh of relief, “I haven’t run so much in ages,” You mumble. And then you straighten and glance at him, “You know, the spirits are very displeased with you.” You say, “They’re mad that you’re helping me.”

“Yeah?” Hunter scowls, “Feeling’s mutual. Little shits.”

You release a slightly hysterical little laugh, and you clamp your hand over your mouth when Hunter looks at you in concern. “Sorry.” You whisper, and you’re surprised to feel tears on your cheeks. 

He looks deeply, deeply uncomfortable but he still kneels in front of you and places his hand on your shoulder, “You’re doing a great job.” He says, “There’s no need for tears.”

“I don’t even know why I’m crying-”

“It’s a lot, being hunted by things. Especially invisible things.” Hunter says, trying so hard to be gentle with you, and it’s obvious it doesn’t come naturally to him, “Do you have any idea why they’re coming after you?”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” You say dryly, “But, like, all of the Jedi were killed.”

“...o…kay?”

You sigh and pick up a stick and draw some stick figures on the ground, “Jedi.” You say, and then you draw some more, “Sith.” You draw little angry lines around the sith. “When the Jedi died, the Force made a sharp turn towards the Dark.”

“Meaning-”

“Meaning the galaxy’s gone to shit.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Hunter agrees, and then he looks at you, “Follow up question.”

“Hm?”

“How do you know anything about the force?” Hunter asks.

“Uh…”

“Are you a Jedi?”

“...ummm…”

“You are. Why the kriff is a Jedi pretending to be a fake psychic?”

“Oh, come on. Because everyone knows that I’m a fake psychic.” You roll your eyes, “You know,” You adopt the wispy voice you use when you’re working, “If you make a healthy change then your soulmate will appear-”

“...you’re conning the Empire.” He says slowly.

“Better a con-artist than dead.” You point out logically.

“You’re not wrong, but I can’t believe that that works.”

“They’re not very smart, and they have a specific mental image as to what Jedi look like, so-”

“Huh…You know, I thought Jedi were supposed to be in better shape.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I have been pretending to be a fake psychic for the last year and the year before that I was…not at the temple.”

“Where were you?”

“I was at the EdiCorps Campus. As punishment. For punching a racist senator.”

Hunter smirks, “That right?”

You open your mouth to reply but then both of your heads snap to the side, “They found us.” You say as you scramble to your feet.

“So it seems.” He grabs your hand and tugs you, “Time to run.”

[scurvgirl]

Learning about my Rook through banter. Just a little self-indulgent writing.

-

Bellara: So...you're Dalish, right?

Rook: Yep.

Bellara: But...you don't have Vallaslin.

Rook: I don't.

Bellara: Did you leave before you could get it?

Rook: No. My father isn't Dalish, and I was born in a city - I joined my mother's clan later. Didn't feel like the Vallaslin would suit me at the time.

Bellara: Oh.

-

Lucanis: Rook, what foods would you like prepared?

Rook: Anything really. Dalish, Free Marches, Tevinter, any kind of sea food.

Lucanis: Good to know.

-

Rook: You know, Taash, you don't have to choose to be Qunari or Rivaini.

Taash: What, you think I don't know that?

Rook: Hold your dragons. I'm saying - I'm Dalish and from a city. I respect the Vhenadahl and the halla. I sang prayers to Andraste and to the creators...before, you know, we knew shit.

Taash: Okay.

Rook: It's all important, and...you're all of it, put together into a unique experience of yourself.

Taash: I'll think about it.

-

Neve: Alright, your accent is not Tevinter, Antivan, Fereldan, or Orlesian. You're a Marcher.

Rook: She's found me out!

Neve: Now to figure out where.

Rook: Do you want me to tell you or is it more fun for you to put the clues together?

Neve: Don't tell me.

-

Rook: Fucking Venatori!

Harding: You really hate them.

Rook: Assholes kill people and use my gods as a fucking excuse.

Harding: You made that one explode.

Rook: Yeah, well, sometimes we deal with personal shit by exploding an evil shithead.

-

Neve: I've got it.

Rook: Oh do tell!

Neve: Kirkwall - Varric recruited you, told you to keep where you're from a secret.

Rook: Good thought but nope. Not from Kirkwall, and thank goodness for that.

Neve: Dammit.

-

Lucanis: You're quite good with that blade Rook. Who taught you?

Rook: My mother. She's a very skilled swordswoman. All of her kids are mages but she insisted we all learn how to defend ourselves with weaponry against Templars.

Lucanis: Smart woman. You have siblings?

Rook: Yeah, two older brothers.

Lucanis: Why am I not surprised you're the baby?

Rook: Because I am baby.

-

Bellara: I don't understand. Why not get the Vallaslin?

Rook: My clan was informed of its true meaning. My keeper started offering everyone a choice.

Bellara: True meaning?

Rook: Slave markings, apparently. Makes sense now with what we know of the gods.

Bellara: That's horrible!

Rook: My brother decided to get his despite that. He said "Whatever they were, they are now how we find each other. How we take pride in who we are." I didn't feel ready. I don't know if I will ever feel ready.

Bellara: That...makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you.

-

Davrin: You saw the Inquisitor, right?

Rook: Yeah. For someone who has been fighting for so long, she looked great.

Davrin: She's like you - Dalish but no Vallaslin.

Rook: There's a few of us out there.

Davrin: I wonder how she got rid of it.

Rook: Ah. Don't like Ghilan'nain's design upon you?

Davrin: Most days it doesn't bother me, but some days...it makes my skin crawl.

Rook: I'll try to ask her next time I see her.

-

Neve: Alright. You don't have Vallaslin because your clan found out information about them from ancient times. You showed an odd familiarity with the inquisitor. You said you are both Dalish and from a city. You hate the Venatori. You're from Wycome.

Rook: Huzzah! You discovered it!

Neve: You were there when the Venatori tried to take over.

Rook: They poisoned our wells. Blamed the elves in the alienage. They killed so many.

Neve: That means your mother was from clan Lavellan - the same clan the Inquisitor was from.

Rook: That would be my clan.

Neve: No wonder Varric gave you a code name and made it so hard to find anything out about you.

Rook: I was twelve when Miriel, I mean, the Inquisitor, left the clan. We were so proud of her, and so worried for her. When she came back...without her Vallaslin...there was a lot of heartbreak that day.

-

Solas: You knew the Inquisitor.

Rook: I did. And you broke her heart.

Solas: I didn't have a choice.

Rook: From what she's said - you did. You just chose wrong.

[allmannerofmalady]

DATV/: Thoughts after first 10 hours of playing

So. Many. Thoughts. With the caveat that I love the first 3 games and have been playing for years, and the storylines mean a lot to me.

I was really disappointed the day before launch because of spoilers I had seen, and it really dampened my excitement. BUT I’ve been enjoying the game much more than expected: specifically the environments and combat. I didn’t give a shit about Rook and was salty over losing the keep, and by an hour in I was growing quite fond of my Rook.

the dialogue writing is not good imho. It’s jarring and stilted at many times, and inconsistent between characters. The usual awkward BioWare quips etc are not the problem - the VO direction seems off? Either super flat or OTT. That being said, I’m playing a female Rook with the British VO and so far I’m enjoying it.

the game is beautiful but the character art style was a choice. I don’t understand why everyone has such big heads and is so squat? I get not committing to a hyper realistic look but WHY these proportions, I don’t understand.

As someone who fell for DA for the lore, the choices, the keep etc - it feels super shallow. And I’m sad about it. I can feel the rush to phase out the old games, and to me PERSONALLY I can’t understand the build up of storylines and cliffhangers that just get disregarded. Why create these casts of characters? Why should I care about the new companions if they just get tossed and recycled with each game? Where’s Fenris 😭

MAJOR SOLAVELLAN SPOILER YOU ARE WARNED - Solas is one of my favourite characters of all time. The Lavellan romance to me was captivating - add to that that I LOVE my Inquisitor and I’m very attached to her and her story. While I’m glad there’s an “good” ending that features both of them - I’m going to purposefully allow my brain to gloss over the details of it and fill the rest with HC because… yeah.

I know all of the reasoning behind justifying the choices of a “soft reboot” and leveling the story for new players but it still burns for me. I played 100s of hours in DAI alone. I bought DLC. I read all the books, art books and comics and survived on a cliffhanger for 10 years (and DA2s cliffhanger before that). It feels cheap to just get some bland dialogue and cameos and call it a day. It’s the fans who have kept the franchise going, idk. It’s not the send off I hoped for and preordered the game for. But I guess I’m glad we got a game at all at this point.

All that said - I will keep playing and enjoying it for what it is. I will enjoy the crumbs of fan service as much as I can (not Isabella’s cameo because wtf). I will finish the game out of love for DA thus far, Solas and my inquisitor. But idk if I see myself replaying this the way I have replayed the first 3 games for years. And I think I’ll need a long DA break after, because it’s going to be really… odd going back to the old games knowing what I know now. But I’ve lined up Metaphor ReFantazio as a palate cleanser :D more thoughts as they come, I guess?

[eeper-jeeper]

Ok so I finally got the chance to listen through Our Martyred Lady with a friend and I just want to talk about a few things especially regarding Celefax because I heard of a few things before going into it like the focus scene and the robes but there is some more to chew on that I want to discuss so bad

So MAJOR spoilers below!! (Also heads up I am still very new to Warhammer in general and have forgotten some terms)

Ok so for starters I want to just talk about the fact Greyfax knows what bees are enough to question why someone else doesn't know what they are. I just think this is just a fun bit and something about it is just very humorous to me. Like how much random knowledge does she know about old life forms? Either way I love the fact the knowledge of bees has persisted this far.

Next, characters constantly bring up that Greyfax spending time with Celestine is changing her. It happens like twice and it is so funny especially given she says something like "What do you know of me?" In reply like everyone sees that crush a mile away girl !!

The fact Greyfax got angry that she wasn't informed that Celestine was on Terra for two whole days before she knew!! In tandem with this Celestine personally requesting Greyfax to see her like !!! Hello?? These facts are so everything to me like they wanted to see each other??

The ecclesiarchy guy describes how pretty Celestine is in detail and this distracts Greyfax enough for her to snap at him to be quiet. (To be fair they were up high so she could get away from all the mind clutter of the crowd) BUT I think it's fun that this is the note this conversation ends on.

When shit hits the fan and the assassination attempt starts and Greyfax reaches out to Celestines mind to reassure her that it's her doing the shooting currently because of said attempt. Then Celestine says Katarinya… and automatically trusts that it's her and goes along with said plan. THEN !!! WHEN Celestine mentions there's an Inquisitor here she knows and trusts the music starts sparkling?? IT'S WRITING ITSELF I CAN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP !!!

Greyfaxs assistant was sososo funny so he gets a mention here.

When Greyfax points out that it's odd that the Emperor would bring Celestine to protect just one guy and Celestine laughs in response. I really enjoyed their banter in this audio drama as it didn't feel like it was with malice. It was very much reasonable for Greyfax to point out but also I do enjoy the fact that Celestine comes back with equal energy. It's a fun dynamic and it feels like they both keep each other on their toes. 

Celestine correctly calls out Greyfax about leaving her assistant with the guy they were protecting but in the most endearing tone of voice possible. 

This part, oh my goodness, THIS PART. When Greyfax and Celestine get into another one of their spats. Celestine tells Greyfax to have faith which she responds with to who? The emperor or humanity? WHICH CELESTINE GOES IN ME for starters. Like my jaw was on the floor, what in the yuri?? Faith in her?? She wants Greyfax to find faith. in. HER. Like I need a minute holy moly that's yea… yea… AND I WILL GET BACK TO THIS LATER.

Celestine basically becoming an Astronomicon for the most sopping wet cat Navigator I must add. Greyfax was against it but when she sees her shining brightly outside the ship she goes “Just as I saw her on Cadia…” it's really a shame I didn't write down the whole line because it was a lot gayer than that. In my notes I just have “A SHINING VEIL” written in all caps and I know Greyfax described Celestine as that but much more elegantly. I cannot make this shit up. I cannot.

This next bit had me cackling and I would love to explore their dynamic more in scenes like this but when Celestine is rushing into battle and Greyfax comes on the vox and says “One or two alive would be nice.” and Celestine laughs and says she'll try. This is followed up by Celestine basically scruffing the two enemies who gave her sass while saying “I know an Inquisitor who would like to talk to you!” Like she's… such a dork… I love her so much the image has not left my head. “You will suffer the wrath of Inquisitor Greyfax!” LIKE I LOVE HER DHDKSNKSND 

ALSO here feels like a good place to mention Celestine only calls Greyfax by Katarinya to her face and I think that's sweet personally. 

The robes scene we all know about and it's absolutely insane that it happened. I cannot believe its canon. What were those doing there Greyfax??? CAN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP 

THE INTERROGATION SCENE !! Can we just talk about what a power duo Celefax is because wow they worked so well together here!! Personally I'm still laughing about the prisoner shouting to get that witch away from her and Greyfax basically going Oh Celestine? She stays ^_^ and Celestine immediately bouncing off her to go: It must be the emperor's holy light piercing your soul >:) Like they are the power couple ever fr

Greyfax yelling at the Black Templars then doing a complete 180 with her tone to be like Celestine can you help us perhaps? 

Greyfax basically breaking into Celestine's room after she doesn't answer her vox. Immediately Greyfax can tell something is wrong too by the look on Celestine's face and I just.. I cannot make this shit u

I will be real, I might have misinterpreted this scene as I don't really remember the details but Celestine becomes a beacon again and Greyfax while not having any personal faith to give still does everything in her power to protect Celestine. Like Greyfax personally beefs with a daemon so Celestine can focus I'm pretty sure at this bit. That's how it came off to me at least and at the end of it Greyfax admits that perhaps Celestine is really blessed. 

Greyfax arguing with the Black Templar Marshall and Celestine goes “Katarinya, is now really the time for this?” Ever so calmly that Greyfax IMMEDIATELY is like no and backs off. I don't even know what to say at this point like she got her to calm down THAT QUICKLY.

One bit of the focus scene I feel like we haven't focused on enough (pun intended). Is the fact before the device breaks when Greyfax goes into it she specifically thinks of Celestine to stay calm. I HAVE NEVER MET A GAYER WOMAN (and I am one!!) 

This being followed up by Celestine literally breaking into Greyfaxs room to make sure she's ok. “Wake up Katarinya it's me!” I adore busting each other's doors down is a recurring thing between them. However for the doors sake I might have a suggestion for both of them that'll get me shot on sight! 

The focus scene could literally have its own post genuinely because WOW. Celestine going “Trust me, Katarinya.” “Show a little faith.” Like Greyfax is putty in her hands practically and you can't tell me otherwise. THE KNEELING TOGETHER?? GREYFAX APOLOGIZING IN THE MOST VULNERABLE TONE WE'VE HEARD FROM HER?? Can't make it up just losing my freaking mind!!! It being said specifically we are the gauntlet and the fist. Ya know, we… like both of them… I'm so normal. There is no heterosexual explanation for anything that goes on in this scene. “I believe you, I believe in you Katarinya!”

Next time they rush into battle Celestine jokes “No prisoners this time, Katarinya?” I love her, your honor.

So for the climax now when Celestine gets taken prisoner and her wings start turning black has about equally as much to discuss. So first Greyfax immediately calls out to Celestine and encourages her to fight through it. “By Throne I won't let this happen!” She says literally!! They took her gf dammit!! Celestine asks Greyfax to keep her safe. Greyfax literally saying “I won't let you take her!” Like without just quoting a bunch of stuff from this part I like how this was like a culmination of their progress together. Genuinely this scene was awesome and to see Greyfax fight so hard out of genuine care for Celestine was EVERYTHING !! As well as we see how much trust Celestine puts into Greyfax at this moment. And the kicker of it all is when they inevitably have to kill Celestine, its Greyfax who yells at Longinus to have faith. LIKE she did it, she said it, she has faith in Celestine. I love this moment so much it's crazy. 

Longinus not knowing that Celestine revives is genuinely one of the funniest bits in the drama because Greyfax is so incredibly smug about it. “I'm surprised by this gap in your knowledge.” Like the way she says it??? Yea she knows all things Celestine and she's gonna rub it in your face apparently !! I need more of this desperately PLEASE.

Greyfax asking Celestine what she's going to do to the heretic for Celestine to basically be like you know exactly what I'm going to do. (And that she does! The ending genuinely could have not been any funnier)

So in conclusion to my ramble:

[kotemf]

Codywan week - day 5

I'm aware I'm late and I apologize for that, I didn't have much time for writing in the past few days and I'm only catching up now. I hope you still enjoy my story for day 5 of the @codywanweek. You can read it here, on Wattpad or on Ao3, whichever you prefere.

  Prompt: original Kenobi series script, hurt / comfort, only one bed

  A/N: Okay, so, for the record, I kinda forgot how exactly the Kenobi series is so I'll just make this up and you are going to pretend it actually lines up, thanks y'all for your definitely voluntary cooperation.

When Obi-Wan accepted Bail Organa's request and went looking for Leia, he didn't know he wasn't the only one looking for her. He should've expected it, Bail wasn't above sending more people just to be sure. Not when it was about his daughter.

  It was a shock when he met his former commander, the man who betrayed him and shot him in the back during order 66. They met in the clone wars, their friendship grew in the clone wars and the thing that developed between them, whatever that was, ended with the clone wars.

  They were allies now. Because when they were chasing after the same goal once again, it wouldn't make sense to compete. Obi-Wan firmly believed that Cody meant no danger to him now that his inhibitor chip was gone. That didn't mean it wasn't difficult to work with Cody again after everything that happened.

  They still worked well together as a team. Even if the uncomfortable silence between action was the stark opposite of the pleasant moments they used to spend in silence during the war. Even if Obi-Wan's instincts still screamed at him whenever Cody pulled out his blaster.

  Despite everything, they managed to complete the mission. They found Leia, escaped the inquisitor and Vader - okay, Obi-Wan was still recovering from that encounter but no one had to know that - and were just boarding the shuttle Bail sent them to get to Alderaan. How he managed to get an empty shuttle with clearance to their location will forever be a mystery for Obi-Wan.

  "Yay, that's our ship!" Leia cheered as soon as they entered the ship. Obi-Wan wanted to answer something but the little demon of a child was gone before he could as much as open his mouth. "I'm going to my room!"

  "Tubies," Cody muttered to himself. Back in the day, Obi-Wan would probably correct him, tell him that nat-born children weren't called tubies and that clone cadets probably shouldn't have been called that either. As it was, he just pretended he didn't hear. He wasn't sure Cody would still be up to a witty banter. The clone grew older over the years, thanks to the clones' accelerated aging, and with that he grew sadder and more serious, Obi-Wan could feel it in the force.

  "I will just-"

  Before he could finish the sentence, Leia was already back. "There is a butterfly in my room," she announced.

  "Is that a problem?" Obi-Wan asked.

  "Yes. I don't like butterflies," Leia informed him. It was a little odd, most children hated spiders or worms, but what else was there to expect from a Skywalker, right?

  "But butterflies are lovely," Cody tried to object. A huge mistake. Objecting to a Skywalker rarely ended well. 

  "No, they are not," Leia pouted. "Butterflies are ugly little monsters and I hate them."

  "Do you want me to take it out?" Cody offered. He was doing his best to cover his amusement but wasn't entirely successful.

  "Yes. Take it far, far away."

  "Of course, ad'ika," Cody agreed easily and ruffled Leia's hair, earning an outraged huff from the girl, before he went to fulfill his task. Cody was nothing if not efficient and in a moment, the butterfly was gone.

  "Thank you, Cody," Leia thanked because she was well raised. Obi-Wan was proud of her. She was going to make a great politician and diplomat one day, she inherited all the skills needed from Padmé.

  "You are welcome, Leia. Will you be fine on your own now, or do you need something else."

  "I'll be fine," Leia assured him before she jogged off again.

  After that, nothing happened. And Obi-Wan meant literally nothing. He and Cody were just standing there, not saying anything. It was rather awkward. "Shall we take a look at the rest of the ship?"

  "Yeah... Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Cody agreed.

  They explored the ship, found the incredibly small cockpit, Leia's room - they didn't dare to enter -, bathroom, small kitchen and another bedroom. There was one room missing.

  "Where is the other bedroom?" Cody asked but Obi-Wan could tell he already knew the answer.

  "There is no other bedroom," Obi-Wan voiced it for them both. Of course there was no other bedroom. It was the Organas' personal shuttle, made for three people, Leia, Bail, and Breha, his wife. It explained the way Leia immediately labeled one of the rooms as hers. "It's fine, I will sleep in the cockpit."

  "I'm not letting you sleep there, there's no room to sleep comfortably," Cody dismissed the idea.

  "I'm afraid it will be necessary."

  "You take the bed, I will sleep in the cockpit."

  "You just said the cockpit was too small!" Obi-Wan argued.

  "Well, then we will have to share," Cody blurted out. He didn't look ashamed but he did feel ashamed in the force. "I mean... We used to share sometimes. During the war."

  It was true. They shared their bed sometimes, when they were planet side on a campaign and there weren't enough bunks, or when it was cold and sharing heat was the only way to stay warmer. But that's something that used to be. Before Cody shot him. People who shot at each other usually didn't share beds, Obi-Wan was sure of that. "It's okay, I will stay in the cockpit." It wasn't like Obi-Wan could possibly get a good sleep either way, he was too anxious with his former commander around.

  "With all due respect, you need sleep too, general."

  "I have the force, I will be fine."

  "Ten years, general. Ten years and you are still the same self sacrificing di'kut. I guess it was too much to hope you got some self preservation instinct.

  Now that was just insulting. But not in a bad way. Cody used the same annoyed but fond tone he used during the war when he had to convince Obi-Wan to take a break from paper work or to get something to eat. It felt like the good old times for a moment. And Obi-Wan knew that Cody wasn't going to budge until he got what he wanted. "Fine."

  "I'm glad we found a solution convenient to both of us, general," Cody said. He had the audacity of smirking at Obi-Wan.

  "Not your general anymore."

  "You will always be my general." Cody shrugged. It sounded like there was a deep meaning behind those words but Obi-Wan didn't have time to think about it. "I will get the shuttle flying."

  Everything was fine for the entire duration of an hour and half. Until it was time to get some sleep. How was Obi-Wan supposed to sleep with someone who tried to kill him sleeping next to him, he didn't know.

  "I suppose it's time to go to sleep," Cody voiced his thoughts. He started taking his armor off, piece by piece, following the same routine Obi-Wan saw him perform many, many times, until he was stripped down to his blacks. Obi-Wan removed the outer layer of his robes and his tunic but kept the rest of his clothes on. The shuttle should be relatively safe, with shields and alarm, but war has taught him to never be unprepared. And he wouldn't feel all that comfortable sleeping in just underwear with Cody there either.

  "Where did you get those?" Cody asked. Obi-Wan had no idea what he was talking about. "The scars. They are new."

  Right, it wasn't all that long ago that he fought Vader and almost burned in lava. Bacta could fix a lot of things but it had it's limits. "I fought Vader."

  "Yes, I am aware. You just forgot to mention you almost died."

  "Don't be dramatic! It's nothing serious."

  Cody gave him his infamous unimpressed stare. "I'm not even going to ask you if it hurts because I know you are going to deny it. I will get you some pain meds."

  "That won't be-"

  "Stop lying, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan. The last time Cody has called him that was the faithful day on Utapau. "You know you don't have to lie to me."

  Obi-Wan knew. Before Utapau. He wasn't so sure now.

  Cody wasn't force sensitive. Yet he still seemed to pick on Obi-Wan's feelings. "I'm sorry you can't trust me anymore."

  Maybe it was Cody's sad smile. Maybe it was the pain that radiated from Cody in the force. Maybe it was something entirely different. But it did the thing. Because no matter what, Obi-Wan couldn't bear to be the cause of Cody's pain and sorrow. "I trust you, Cody." Obi-Wan was surprised to realize that he actually meant it.

  There were no words for the way Cody lit up in the force, like the gold sunbeams that used to decorate his armor. He repainted it, made it gray. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if the color was picked simply because Cody deemed it more appropriate or as a sign of mourning, because that was the meaning of gray in mandalorian culture. It wasn't the first time Obi-Wan wondered how Cody did it, how he escaped the empire, made peace with almost all of his brothers being gone. Obi-Wan lost everything too but he was a Jedi. Jedi were always prepared to let go.

  Wordlessly, Cody passed Obi-Wan a pill he fished out of his med kit. Obi-Wan just hoped it wasn't a poison. Nothing in Cody suggested that he was trying to get rid of Obi-Wan but Obi-Wan was rarely sure nowadays.

  "Let's go to sleep," Obi-Wan suggested. There was no reason to make it more awkward than it already was. He settled on the bed, as close to the edge as he dared. Cody did the same. This was just awkward.

  "Good night," Cody whispered as he covered himself with a blanket.

  "Good night."

  Obi-Wan couldn't sleep. He rarely could. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw visions. Visions of the past, visions of how things could have been. What if he hadn't fucked up so bad with Anakin, what if he noticed that the chancellor's interest in the boy was starting to be suspicious, what if he fought more against Ahsoka being expelled from the order, what if, what if, what if, wha-

  Cody put a hand around Obi-Wan's waist in his sleep. Obi-Wan's first reaction was panic. He tried to shuffle further away from Cody to which the other man grumbled unhappily and pulled Obi-Wan closer to him. The emotions were overwhelming in the beginning. Then Obi-Wan allowed himself to relax in Cody's arms. He closed his eyes again.

  There were no nightmares. No memories. No visions. No what ifs. No. This time, the only thing Obi-Wan saw was the sun, warm and bright, just like the man besides him.

[littlelostmabari]

Day 28: Red Lyrium

This one is a little early, preparing for this week's spoilers!

Characters: Inquisitor Cadash, Varric, Bianca Davri Pairing: Cadash x Varric CW: A few threats of violence

Thanks to @daitranscripts for the dialogue!

Braren Cadash was tired. No, scratch that. She was still tired.

They had made her the fucking Inquisitor.

Varric had laughed that they'd called a dwarf the "Herald of Andraste", and he'd laughed for days after they made her Inquisitor — at least in public. In private, when he was alone with her in the late hours of the night and the anchor glowed and itched something terrible he rubbed her back and told her that he still knew that she was Braren deep down. The last night they had spent in her lavish new quarters she had thrown a wardrobe at the far wall, ranting about how Cassandra had forced her to walk up those bloody stairs into an ancestors-damned ambush. Fucking humans and their fucking politics. Braren could see in Josie and Leliana's eyes — the eyes of her ambassador and her spymaster, she called them now — that they had known exactly what they were doing. Shoving her in front of a crowd of the faithful, who had escorted her to this fortuitous fortress with songs of their Maker, where she could not tell them to sod off with this entire leadership business. At least Cullen apologized afterwards.

She wasn't their hero. She didn't want to be. And yet they made her fit their mold.

So Varric laughed, humanized her (such an odd turn of phrase, 'humanize'). Iron Bull had dragged her in front of soldiers and made sure that she knew that she had people that didn't see her just as a figurehead. Sera had made sure the advisors understood Braren's distate for their antics, even when the Inquisitor couldn't say it outright.

But in private… in private, she wept into Varric's shoulder as he told her how well he understood her pain. That he had seen this kind of thing before and he would never let the world forget that the Inquisitor was a surface dwarf with a penchant for breaking heavy and expensive things, for drinking the shittiest liquor in the tavern, and for playing a mean hand of Wicked Grace. The humanizing things.

Today, she was regretting letting him tell those stories. The Inquisitor was a dwarf, and it was another dwarf who had helped to doom Thedas.

They had emptied Valammar of Carta again, diving deeper into the ruins at the behest of Varric's old flame — that was a wound that would need serious TLC when they got back to Skyhold. But the tone in Varric's voice led Braren to hold her tongue.

"When I got to the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red lyrium, and I… studied it." Bianca at least had the decency to look contrite to Braren's eyes, but Varric seemed to see something she didn't.

"You know what it does to people!" he snarled, taking a step closer to her and shaking his fist in the air.

"I was doing you a favor! You want to help your brother, don’t you?" Appeal to emotion, Braren thought. Classy. Manipulative bitch. "I just… wanted to figure it out."

"Well your 'wanting to figure it out' went swimmingly," Braren sneered. "You could have been killed. Or worse. And for what?"

"Knowledge! You’re not going to beat Corypheus with ignorance!"

"It would have been a hell of a lot easier to kill him without his fucking red lyrium, though, wouldn't it?" Braren made to close the distance but Varric's arm stopped her movement.

"I found out that red lyrium… It has the Blight, Varric! Do you know what that means?"

"What?" he sighed, his hand remaining on Braren's shoulder. Bianca's eyes twitched to the connection. "That two deadly things combine to form something super-awful?"

Bianca cleared her throat. "Lyrium is alive, or… something like it. Blight doesn’t infect minerals. Only animals. I couldn’t get any further on my own, so I looked for a Grey Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise in one, right?" She began to pace. "And I found this guy, Larius. He seemed really interested in helping my research. So I gave him a key."

"Larius? He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus’s… " All of the blood in Varric's face seemed to drain away. "Oh, shit." He looked back to Braren now. "That’s how he survived."

Bianca wrung her hands and stared down itno them. "I didn’t realize until you said you found red lyrium at Haven. I came here and… well…" She raised her eyes to meet Varric's and the Inquisitors. "Then I went to you."

"You told Varric you had a 'lead'," Braren growled, "so we’d straighten out your mistake." Varric's hand dropped from her shoulder.

"I know I screwed up, but we did fix it! It’s as right as I can make it!" It was Varric's turn to approach her, nearly nose to nose.

"This isn’t one of your machines! You can’t just replace a part and make everything right!" Braren thought about putting a hand on his shoulder this time, but reconsidered when Bianca responded with a huff.

"No," she said. "But I can try, can’t I? Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?"

"Hah! As if I would tell stories about my own mistakes!"

Silence filled the small chamber. Varric swallowed and stepped back into Braren's shoulder, where he looked back and met her gaze.

"The red lyrium is out. Closing this entrance won’t undo that." Braren spoke only to him, now, soothing the hurt that was roiling in his chest. He sighed and turned back to Bianca with grief plastered across his face.

"We’ve done all we can here. Bianca, you’d better get home before someone misses you." Then he pushed past Braren and made for the exit alone.

"Varric…" Bianca called after him.

"Don't worry about it," was the sigh that responded.

Braren and Bianca watched him go, both tense around the other. Bianca spoke first.

"Get him killed, and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs, Inquisitor."

Braren turned on her in an instant, teeth bared and eyes narrowed.

"Do not for one second blame me for this mess," she snarled, hand inching behind her for fingertips against the comfort of her steel battleaxe. "The only reason you still have your skull intact is because the man I love loved you once. I am not in the habit of making him grieve."

Bianca tried to stand tall, but Braren Cadash had been intimidating people for the Carta long before this bitch stood in front of her. She didn't need to throw her shoulders back or puff her chest out. She wiped the hair from her face with the hand that glowed underneath leather, accentuating the scars that plastered every bit of her not covered in armor.

"If I ever see you again, Bianca Davri, paragon or no, I will send you back to the Stone."

[swordbisexual]

A Chest Of Pine And Iron: Chapter One

Being the record of a collection of personal effects found in the traveling trunk of Fenella Rutherford, née Trevelyan.

[A leather-bound diary, the first of several that share its appearance, of a medium size and battered on its cover and edges, with a well broken-in spine. Some pages are warped and wavy, and the book falls open in places where folded notes and pressed flowers were kept, as evidenced by loose pages that emerge and the odd dried, crumbling petal or leaf. This is the diary of the Herald of Andraste, later Inquisitor, though on its first page it is simply labeled with four words, written in a neat, if not expert, hand: “Property of Fenella Trevelyan”]

18 August 9:41

Herald of Andraste. I confess that, for the first time in my life, I might actually believe in her divine grace.

Maker forgive me for the blasphemy, and all that. No one else will read this, and I don’t think the Maker cares much for the scribblings of the youngest Trevelyan, herald or not. Then again, he might be looking over my shoulder right now, in which case: 

MAKER, WHEN THERE WAS ONLY DARKNESS, YOU WERE THE LIGHT.

[This is written in large capitals, thrice underlined, and takes the whole of the bottom half of this page. The entry continues on the next.]

There. Now that that’s done.

Maker, Andraste, and whoever else is listening, help me get through this all right.

I’ve been told that I was asleep for days, calling the name of the Lady and the Divine and reciting the Canticle of the Apotheosis. Strange, that I did any of that, especially since I’ve struggled with recalling any of the Chant no matter how much I studied it. Ask me to sing “She of the Highwaymen Repents” and I can do it without a thought, but the Apotheosis? I can barely even remember it right now. I certainly can’t remember what I saw, or not in any way that I’m supposed to remember. The vision at the Temple was…

It’s an odd sensation, even just recalling it. I was standing outside of myself, looking myself in the face while the Lady shone just outside of our vision. I saw my own fear and wonder, and wondered if I’ve always looked like that. If I’ve always looked so young, and so scared, and if I still look that way. It was as if I didn’t know that woman. As if I was looking at her for the very first time in my life, and for one fleeting moment, as if I was seeing a vision of the Lady born anew. Maker forg never mind.

There is a polished brass mirror in the quarters they’ve given me here, and looking at myself just now, all I see is the same face I’ve seen for eight and twenty years. A little too round, a little too freckled, on a frame that’s just a little too big to be called strong or graceful. The only place I’ve felt like either of those things is with a sword or a staff in the training yard, but even then the feeling goes away as soon as I put my weapon down.

None of that really matters now, I suppose. This isn’t Ostwick, and there’s no daily lessons in the Chant and no garden to disappear to when I’m trying to avoid them. There’s only soldiers, a war room, and snow as far as the eye can see.

And the mark. There’s the mark, too.

It doesn’t feel like anything right now, save for maybe the passing itch deep in my palm in a place where I can’t scratch. Only then do I want to break skin and dig my fingers in past the bones and pull it out. I picture a shifting black and green thing, all spiked on the edges and blinking at me with as many eyes as that pride demon, and I picture flinging it onto the council table and storming right back out and disappearing into the Frostbacks. Of course, such behavior doesn’t suit either the Herald or a Trevelyan, and the feeling passes as soon as the itch does. 

Good thing, too. I’m not used to this much snow.

As for the war council, it is difficult of think of myself as its leader. Even waiting in the council chamber for those first brief moments alone before the rest arrive - Commander Rutherford first, always, followed closely by Cassandra, with Leliana slipping in like Cassandra’s shadow and the Lady Montilyet bringing up the unhurried, sauntering rear - I feel much like I did when I waited with my parents for my brothers to come in from their duties. Only when they all look to me do I remember that I am their leader, and I am the one to tell them where to go and what to do and how the Inquisition should proceed. Not a single person has ever wanted my opinion before, and now here I am with my word taken as the Maker’s own law.

That might be more blasphemous than anything I’ve written here, but is it? Do they know that? Do they actually believe that I’ll be the one to lead them? Do they know who I am?

Do I know?

I’ve rambled on enough. It’s starting to make my hand itch again. I don’t know how far the borders of Haven extend, but I think I’d like to go as far as I can out towards them this afternoon. The air up here is colder and crisper than any I’ve ever breathed behind the walls of Ostwick. Perhaps there will be answers out there, and if not, then I can at least pretend I’ll find them.

[fancifulplaguerat]

My Nina/Polyhedron thoughts have afflicted me with considering how Aglaya’s hellbent mission to destroy the Polyhedron informs her hatred of Nina and vice versa. I want to structure this around this dialogue between Clara and Daniil:

“Aglaya sees the Polyhedron as Nina Kaina's infernal gift. She thinks that Nina rose high, but her pride drew down the wrath of heavens. Aglaya believes that her duty is to destroy this challenge before it has lead to more evil. Or maybe she doesn't even believe that […] She desperately, hopelessly abhors her sister. Even stronger than her worst enemy. When I got to uncover this secret and looked into her soul, my hair stood on end! Aglaya believes her sister to be the devil himself, a deathbringer.” 

I feel it is a little pointless to establish how much Aglaya hates Nina because lol. lmao. Aglaya put her whole heart and soul and pussy too into hating Nina’s guts it is not difficult to parse. But I do want to point to two dialogues which reference this. An Herb Bride claims that “[Nina and Aglaya] hate one another. Or rather the inquisitor hates the Mistress. I think Nina probably disregarded her,” but Victor states that “[there was a] mutual grudge between the sisters that persisted despite the difference in age. It’s a terrible, hopeless feud that even the elder sister’s death has done nothing assuage.” I am inclined to follow Victor’s claim, given that he was undoubtedly closer to them.

As for *why* Aglaya and Nina were perpetually at odds, I think it is foremost because Aglaya considered Nina cruel for her disregard of human life. While Aglaya is rather sharp-tongued and harsh, she is highly motivated by a desire to help and protect others. Indeed she spells it out in some instances, saying, “I am a humanitarian. My duty is to save people, not kill them,” and “I only wish to do good; not specific, targeted good, like that Clara, but overarching good.” She likewise tells Clara, “Human lives are valuable to me. To this day, I’ve been paying for my kind-heartedness.” Which. I am routinely obsessed with that last sentence. In my opinion, it implies Aglaya is prone to sympathy or kindness, that she perhaps even resents this feature of herself. That in turn suggests to me that this kind-heartedness is a prominent feature of her personality, if it is something that (by her admission) routinely bites her in the ass. And I can see sympathy being an issue for her, being an Inquisitor. Despite her ruthlessness, Aglaya cares for others; thus her resentment for Nina seems rooted in her conviction that Nina is an opposing force for absolute evil and harm, just as Aglaya conceives of miracle and the Polyhedron.

Aglaya characterizes herself as a servant of the law, one who “restore[s] the mechanics of the Universe.” She defines the Law as balance and harmony—anything which ruptures that homeostasis has violated the Law, and this is what Aglaya deems “evil.” Aglaya repeats this viewpoint to all three healers, but I think a prominent example is when she tells Clara that “Miracles violate the world; they're abusive in nature. When the world was conceived, it was conceived as a coherent whole, without contradictions. Harmony is the main, indeed the only component of any Universe. However ugly a world may be, however unfair it may seem—it is nonetheless harmonious!” She likewise states that “When mysterious evil emerges from nonexistence, it’s a clear sign that [the Law] has been violated. Disease is a retribution for trespassers. It’s an attempt to restore the balance.” She further says: “In accordance with the Law, the very logic of our world inevitably dictates the destruction of anything unnatural: anything that tries to break its own, non-capitalized laws. The disease is nothing more than a tool. It is an instrument of inevitability.” This logic informs her motivations in-game, with several dialogues across routes telling the player that Aglaya seeks to destroy the Polyhedron rather than end the epidemic. This aligns with Aglaya’s conception of the universe, the Law, and justice; after all, Aglaya views the Sand Pest as an instrument of the Law, retribution for the Kains’ miracle—as she says, “The Law stipulates a harsh punishment for an attempt to capture a miracle.” Thus to Aglaya, it is the Polyhedron which presents the true evil, not the disease.

It further interests me that Clara claims that to Aglaya, “there are no such things as miracles; that’s just the way she was made.” That fundamentally Aglaya cannot conceive of the miraculous, unlike her sister, who was predisposed to it. This reinforces that to Aglaya, the Polyhedron cannot be a miracle, only a violation of the Law which thus spawned the plague as punishment. I think Aglaya could likewise consider the Polyhedron and Nina as one and the same, which they are, to an extent—even without my preferred interpretations, Nina is playing musical soul chairs in that thing when not haunting her husband bodily. And given that Aglaya is a self-described servant of the Law and Nina functionally Utopia, I feel that one could view the two sisters as representative of these respective entities perpetually at odds with one another. Yet even with Aglaya and Nina in contrasting roles, I still hold that there is much similarity between them, but. This post is plenty lengthy already, so I shall save that for a later date :,) I wanted to end, instead, with some speculation about Aglaya’s sense of revenge, in particular given that last sentence of Clara’s dialogue—“Or maybe she doesn’t even believe that.”

Returning to that conversation with Victor, I am struck by his response when Artemy asks who could have motivated Aglaya’s potential schemery in Town. That is: “Not a ‘who.’ A ‘what.’ Despair.” This, in my mind, echoes Aglaya’s dialogue when she discusses Block. She claims that, “For a moment, I thought he was driven by the same feeling that I am: a great man, when unexpectedly betrayed by the people he loves, will often seek to fill the whole universe with his blind spite. Yes, the feeling is indeed familiar…” And that line goddamn haunts me. There seems a suggestion, if minimal, that Aglaya’s anger may be influenced by a sense of wounding or betrayal? Not solely her own death or trying to drag Nina down on her way to the grave (it makes me unwell that Clara says Aglaya wants to destroy the Polyhedron “As her final word.” Insanity. Btw.) I suppose Aglaya’s despair or betrayal could broadly refer to some capital confidants of hers, but I do wonder if it references Nina somehow? If only from a narrative standpoint, given that Nina informs Aglaya’s revenge and thus main drive in the story. Once again, characters reiterate that Aglaya’s Inquisitorial duty in Town is a mere means to the end of destroying the Polyhedron; for instance, Daniil states Aglaya “tried to settle personal accounts with her deceased sister” rather than fulfill her duty.

I have no answer to this, I only wonder—does Aglaya somehow feel betrayed by Nina? Did Aglaya even have enough attachment to Nina to feel betrayal to begin with? Maybe one could interpret that, given Aglaya’s description of herself as motivated by blind spite incurred by an unexpected betrayal by people she loves. I don’t know. But I find that far more compelling than Aglaya hating Nina without question, in particular when considering their relationship through the lens of Aglaya as the Law and Nina as Utopia.

[sapphim]

I've been a little bit obsessed lately with whatever it is that may or may not be going on with Connor Guerrin.

Desire: I abandon the boy… for now. But I retain the contract he and I made, and many years from now I may return and claim what is mine. Desire: This will be long after whatever you want is done. In exchange, I will provide something of value to you. Something you desire. What say you? Warden: So you leave and come back when nobody expects it? Desire: I have had my fun in the living world. If I leave, you could tell anyone you've slain me. Even the boy himself would believe it. Desire: He will grow and become a mage, mighty and wise. But when I return, his soul would be mine. Warden: How do I know you would keep your word? Desire: A bargain struck is a bargain kept. Such is our way. — Desire: Then it is a deal. You'll have what you desire… and I'll leave as if destroyed. For now. Desire: I wish you luck, dear creature. You shall certainly need it.

After Connor is freed (or, "freed"), regardless of whether or not the Circle and Irving were contacted for help, he is sent to the Circle.

Teagan: Connor is his old self. He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing. Teagan: I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi's tower for… training, once the war is over. It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things.

This is corroborated in his codex entry.

With aid from the Circle, he was freed from the demon's power. Connor will be sent to the Circle Tower where he will no longer pose a danger to the innocent. He was freed from the demon's power at a terrible price: the cost of his mother's life. Connor himself will be sent to the Circle where he will no longer endanger innocent people.

Now, the Origins epilogue disputes that Connor ever arrived at the Circle, in the event that the Warden cut a deal with the desire demon and allowed him to be repossessed.

While Eamon planned to send Connor to the Circle of Magi for training, the boy grew strangely ill and the trip was delayed… and then one day Connor simply disappeared entirely. After a frantic search, he was eventually given up for lost. His disappearance remains a mystery to this day.

However the Origins epilogue slides are explicitly non-canon, and have been freely retconned throughout the series. The implication that he never arrived at the Circle due to the demon's interference is also inconsistent with the its claim that it would wait "many years" for him to grow into a more powerful mage before attempting to reclaim him.

Furthermore, Isolde mentions how Connor is settling in at the Circle in dialogue from Mark of the Assassin if the DLC is played in Act 1 (9:31, less than a year after the end of the Blight). This plays if Connor is alive, regardless of whether the demon was dealt with permanently or not.

Perrin: How is your son, Arlessa? Does Circle life suit him? Isolde: He is well, thank you. He is glad to have proper tutors, and they say he is a very good student.

Tangentially, Teagan's dialogue about Connor, if Isolde died, implies that he has maintained a good deal of contact with his surviving family despite living at Kinloch.

Perrin: How is your nephew, Bann Teagan? Tegan: Connor is… a teenager now, Maker save us all. My poor brother is tearing his hair out dealing with the boy. Teagan: He’ll grow out of it. Or Eamon will kill him. Either one.

If he appears in Inquisition, he mentions that he was still at Kinloch when the Circles were dissolved.

Inquisitor: How did you end up in the mage rebellion? Connor: I was living in the Fereldan tower when the Circles dissolved. I voted against it, but… Connor: At first, it seemed all right. No one was summoning demons. They just wanted to oversee themselves. Connor: But then the magister came and… It's wrong, what they do in Tevinter. Connor: We are monsters. We need to be controlled. If it wasn't for me… Connor: Every family in this village wouldn't be missing a son, a daughter, a spouse.

However, (according to the wiki) he only appears in Inquisition (in 9:41) if the Warden did not cut a deal with the demon to allow it to return and repossess him later.

So, if that is the case, then what happened to Connor between 9:31 and 9:41? This question is the one that has been haunting me.

Connor doesn't appear in game between Origins and Inquisition, but there was a quest that was cut from DA2 in which Hawke would have met Teagan and Connor if Connor was alive.

I want to add a few caveats before presenting more information on this quest. Uncompleted quests like these are removed from the game for any number of reasons, and all the information contained within should be considered 1) incomplete and 2) possibly in error. There is, for example, another cut quest in which, if Harrowmont is king of Orzammar, the carta continues to support Bhelen and his claim to the throne. The problem with the concept of this quest concept is that, if Harrowmont is king, Bhelen is dead.

The quest was going to take place in Act 2 (9:34, which would have made Connor around 14 at the time). Teagan and Connor are in Kirkwall for? Some reason. A little field trip for a well-behaved boy, perhaps. Kirkwall's templars have gone rogue and are attempting to kill Connor, having heard of his little reign of terror in Redcliffe some five years ago and believing him to still be possessed. The political implications on this one are a bit uh, insane, if we're being honest.

Connor is still a mage of Kinloch, and says as much himself. Except there is an alternate line, in which he does not mention the Circle at all.

Connor: I’m a mage of the Circle Tower of Ferelden. Connor: (alt line) There’s no use keeping it a secret. Yes, I’m a mage.

When the quest was cut, the plot flag to determine if Connor would claim to be a mage of the circle checked:

1) Is Connor alive? (This seems unnecessary. He's standing right there in front of us, after all.) 2) Did the Warden make a deal with the desire demon? and 3) When cutting a deal with the demon, did the Warden not intimidate it into leaving Connor permanently and never returning for him?

In other words, basically, if Connor is slated to be repossessed, he doesn't claim to be a member of Ferelden's Circle. Again. This could be anything or nothing. It could be a mistake.

One very mundane explanation: in the zz_vault_debug dialogue, this plot flag is phrased as "Connor went to the circle of magi"/"Connor did not go to the circle of magi," and it's possible that's how it was phrased in the developers' toolset as well. Then someone saw the flag, with only that description to go off of, and wrote it in. This is... technically not incorrect? But it glosses over the very very important factor of WHY specifically did he not go to the Circle of Magi. Bioware, in the absence of the Circle of Magi, then what!!! Answer the question.

You can understand maybe why I'm a little, "hmmm?" over this, red string style, especially since Bioware has kindly given me no other details to to "HMMM?" about.

Anyway that's my current Connor brainrot that's been rotating in my head for the past several days.

[justab00knerd]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷'𝓼 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻

Previous part

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Chapter Two: Professor Um-bitch Is The Worst ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

At first I thought Professor Um-bitch couldn’t do anything else that was loony, and she just had to prove me wrong. A few weeks after the initial first week of our fifth year, the madness started. I believe it happened soon after Harry had gotten detention with Professor Um-bitch. Professor McGonagall intercepted Professor Um-bitch’s way as she walked out of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall came to confront her about how she handled how she punishes students. At first, I thought that Professor Um-bitch would just apologise or back down but no. Of course she had to just disrespect Professor McGonagall. Lord praise her for her strength she has to deal and tolerate this bitch. Not only that but somehow I’ve come to hate Flich even more than last year. Outside of the great hall, Filch hung up these posters. One wrote, “Educational Decree Number 23: Dolores Jane Umbridge has been appointed to the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.” Was the Ministry going mad? Not only did they send a loony, mad-woman, but they also had to give her the title of “High Inquisitor.” Not only that, it made the front page in the Daily Prophet. 

Following the days of the decree, one could say everything from there went downhill. Day after day, Professor Um-bitch continued to implement more and more crazy rules! These rules included such as forbidding the Weasley Twins from freely selling their products. Although, that never stopped them from selling them in secret and to be honest I’ve always been a fan of the twins and not just because I was friends with their younger brother. Let’s not even mention how she came to every single class and interrogated each teacher. Even poor Professor Snape came to be a victim of these interrogations! Even Professor Trelawney got verbally beaten by the “High Inquisitor” when she came into our class. A few days later after Umbridge’s questioning, a commotion occurred in the courtyard. 

As I accompanied Cho to the courtyard, well at least I tried to; students from all years and houses were walking towards the courtyard in curiosity. When I caught up to Cho she was already talking to Harry. 

“Cho! Wh-what’s going on?” Harry asked as they walked briskly together. I stood a few steps back with Hermione and Ron, listening in on their conversation.

“It’s Professor Trelawney,” Cho’s Scottish accent stood out like a sore thumb. My heart jumps at my throat. Professor Trelawney? What’s happening to Professor Trelawney?!? 

  Once we had arrived at the courtyard in front of the main entrance, I found myself watching Filch carry out bags to Professor Trelawney who stood confused outside. Following close behind Filch was that insufferable woman in pink. To make it worse she was smiling. Realisation hits me like a truck. This was Professor Um-bitch’s doing. That little… She can’t do this! Can she?

I know that many people don’t really like Professor Trelawney, after all everyone calls her crazy and well… odd. But I quite enjoy her classes, much to the dismay of Hermione. It was just something about Divination that clicked with me, I suppose. I mean not as much as Astrology or Potions, but I did enjoy her class. 

I stood next to Hermione and Harry as Professor Um-bitch made her way to our dear professor. The latter professor looked like she was distraught and on the verge of tears. Enough even to almost trip over her baggage. She takes a moment to compose herself before taking small steps closer to Um-bitch. 

“Si-sixteen years I’ve lived and taught here. Hogwarts is my home,” Her voice cracked as she spoke in a soft tone. “Yo-you can’t do this.” My heart dropped. I bit the inside of my cheek. I wanted to do something. Anything. But I waited for Um-bitch’s response. Maybe, just maybe, she could grow a heart. 

“Actually,” Her high pitched voice started before she brought up a letter. “I can.” Red covered my vision. How DARE she! I watch as Trelawney starts to cry. I took in a deep breath, before sliding past Harry. I heard Hermione call out my name, but I didn’t look back. I briskly walked to Professor Trelawney's side before stepping in front of her. 

“Ms.Quinn, what do you think you’re doing?” She giggled. Oh founders of Hogwarts, how much would I LOVE to slap that smile off her face. Maybe I should just introduce her instead with my fist?

“Well, Professor. I’m protecting what I love.” I threw a glance to Professor Trelawney whose tears were almost escaping her. “I don’t know what gave you the right to just-just kick teachers out, but I know damn well that Professor Trelawney doesn’t deserve this!” I project my voice loud and clear for not just Professor Um-bitch for all the students to hear. 

“It-it’s just unethical! Inhuman even!” I cry. I could tell she was annoyed with me,after all I saw the way her jaw ticked as she tried to keep her tight knit smiling face. Honestly, it was a misstep on her part. 

“Ms.Quinn, I assure you this is for the great good of Hogwarts. So, unless you would like detention in my office, please stand aside.” I gritted my teeth. She motioned me with her arm to stand aside, but I held my ground. I swore I could see I hit a nerve, but before she could say or do anything else, Professor McGonagall rushed out. I turned to her as she rushed to Professor Trelawney’s side and embraced her. 

“Ms.Quinn, what is going on here?” Professor McGonagall asked, I could tell her eyes weren’t on me but, instead on the person behind me. I told her blankly what had happened a few moments prior to her appearance.

“Something you would like to say dear?” Um-bitch told Professor McGonagall. Her tone was endearing as if she held the Headmaster position. I thought a quick prayer for Um-bitch hoping she lived a good life before I killed her myself. 

“Oh, there are several things I would like to say.” I took a few steps back, giving the teachers some room. Professor McGonagall patted Professor Trelawney’s head as she cried. Before Professor Um-bitch could say anything more there was a loud knock before the tall doors of Hogwarts opened presenting our Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. As long as Professor Dumbledore was here I knew that we would be safe from Um-bitch’s tyranny. 

“Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Syvil back inside.” Professor Dumbledore’s voice boomed in the quiet courtyard, I smirked to myself. 

Take that Professor Um-bitch!

I bowed my head before walking back slowly leaving the Headmaster to deal with that annoying pink woman. Once far enough, I bring my head back to see Professor McGonagoll hold Professor Trelawney by the arm, bringing her back inside the walls of Hogwarts. As they pass the Headmaster, Professor Trelawney gives her thanks to Professor Dumbledore many times before leaving. 

“Dumbledore,” I groaned at the voice of Professor Umbridge. I swear, how in the world did she land herself high in the Ministry? If I want to become an Auror, I hope she will have already retired by then. “May I remind you that under the terms of Educational Decree number 23 as enacted by the Minister-”

“You have the right to dismiss my teachers, you do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the grounds. That power remains with the Headmaster.” Dumbledore fires back mid sentence. I couldn’t help a snort that slipped out, and I swore she could hear me across the yard because I felt her side eye me before bringing her attention back to the Headmaster.  Her smile widens into a smirk.

“For now.” My mind goes blank. 

For now? What does she mean for now?

Professor Dumbledore remained silent. Why was he remaining silent? Shouldn’t he say something? Anything? 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he does is turn around and yell something about studying. Studying? What the hell are we supposed to study? 

We all stood there for a moment before students started to disperse. I stand where I stood for a moment longer before clicking my tongue and turning on my heel. I hear Professor Um-bitch call me out. I was about to walk away from her but I knew better than that. I spin around to face her direction. 

“I hope to see you in my office tomorrow after class.” I give her a confused look. “Detention. Be grateful I didn’t deduct any House Points.” She giggled before turning away and walking to Lord knows where. I let out a mix of a groan and a sigh before scurrying away to the library. 

But of course it seems like the universe hated me. I had to run into Malfoy and his little gang. 

“Oh look who we have here! Little Miss Teacher's pet, now are we?” Parkinson laughed. The rest follows suit as I stand awkwardly at the side. Letting out a sigh before continuing my way towards the library. 

“Oh no you’re not!” Someone yelled from behind, it was a girl’s voice. Greengrass maybe? Well, it didn’t matter. I hear their shoes clack on the stone floor, I pick up speed running anywhere my legs take me. I hear them laugh at me as they chase me through the halls. I make a sharp turn towards the Gryffindor tower, I pray to myself that I make it to the Fat Lady before Parkinson and Greengrass catch me. 

As the Fat Lady came into sight I pushed myself to pump my legs faster. I faintly hear Parkinson yell to everyone that I was near the Gryffindor dormitories and I hear their footsteps get louder and louder indicating they are close by.

 “Mimbulus mimbletonia,” I breath out, I see the Fat Lady usher me in before shutting the entrance on the Slytherins. At first it was weird to be surrounded by red and gold tapestry, I mean after all my house colours were blue and silver. 

“Blimey Stella, what happened to you?” Ron asked as he watched me lean on the walls in order not to fall to my knees. I take in deep breaths, practically heaving. Harry and Hermione look to one another before rushing to my side and ushering me to the couch. Once I caught my breath I told them about my encounter with the Slytherins, AKA their worst enemy at school. They all stared for a moment before Ron broke the silence about how they’re just the worst. I nodded along as they bad-mouth Malfoy and his friends. I understood where they were coming from, after Malfoy has been taunting them ever since first year. But I think he wasn’t all too bad. I mean as long as he kept his pretty mouth shut. 

Soon the topic shifted to today’s events, well more specifically Professor Um-bitch. 

“We’re not learning how to defend ourselves. We’re not learning how to pass our O.W.L.s. She’s taking over the entire school.” Hermione complains as she paces back-and-forth in the common room. It was almost time for curfew and I was still held up in the Gryffindor common room instead of the Ravenclaw one. The radio in the common room projects the Minister’s voice and Harry turns the volume up to listen in. He goes on about how the disappearances are all of Sirius Black’s fault, which from what I know isn’t true. After all, even when he gave us a visit in our third year, he was far from evil. Quite the opposite really. As they zone in on what the radio says I finally stand up from my place on the couch near Ron.

“I-I should go. I’m sure that Malfoy and his lap dogs are gone by now. An-and it’s getting late,” I stutter as I rush to grab my robes off the back rest of the couch. Hermione nods before walking over to me and taking me in her arms. I jump at the contact; I suppose that I’m still a bit unused to hugs. 

“Good night Stella,” She says before letting me go. “Sleep well. We still have classes tomorrow.” 

“Night ‘mione,” I gave her a curt nod and wished Harry and Ron good night which they say in turn. As I exit the common room I check the surroundings, putting an effort to look for any green robes. Specifically, Parkinson and Greengrass’s robes. 

After Malfoy and I’s first assignment we created a partial truce. As long as I continue being his Potions partner, which to be honest was also in my best interests as Hermione wasn’t in my class so, he was my next best option. Luckily for me, he offered to be civil with me in and outside of class which I took eagerly. If I could get one less bully off my back, I’m in. 

Now that I look back on it, Malfoy never really told me off like he did to Hermione. The ones who liked making sure I knew my place were Parkinson and Greengrass as they constantly called my stuck-up know-it-all. Which in my defence is untrue. I’ll admit that I have more knowledge on topics than the average witch and wizard, but I had no confidence to one up someone. That wasn’t…really my style. Nonetheless, they still insist they ruin my day spitting rude remarks my way whenever we pass by each in the hallways. 

I briskly walk through the halls making my way towards the Astronomy tower’s direction. Even though I never was one to have many friends, even with my standing with Cho Chang, a beautiful Scottish with Asian descent and Ravenclaw’s proud seeker, no one really noticed me. Even when they did, they always just say things like, “What an attention seeker” or “She’s just another Ravenclaw know-it-all.” Which was true for some, but for me it was the opposite. I never liked the spotlight, even before Hogwarts I was never popular and I liked it that way. 

“Oh, look who finally came out of that boisterous excuse of a house.”

I stop in my tracks like a deer caught in headlights. I snap my head towards the sound of that voice. It was sophisticated. Sharp and refined even. There leaning casually on the wall was Draco Malfoy. I couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked…put together and proper. Maybe even like a gentleman. I pause. 

What in the world am I thinking?!?!?! Was I…was I just openly saying that Malfoy. Draco Malfoy of all people looked…NICE?!?!?!?! 

I shook my head aggressively. Thanking myself that I hadn’t spoken aloud if not I might just hurl myself into the Black Lake in embarrassment.

“Did you hear me or not, Quinn?” He said in a harsh tone. I snap out of my thoughts once more. 

“I-um-wh-what are you doing out here at this time?” I question and take a few steps away from him. I look around trying to figure out where Parkinson or even Crabbe and Goyle were hiding.

“Don’t even try looking for them. They returned back to the dormitories hours ago claiming you weren’t worth the wait.”

I gulp loudly. Even if I was grateful that Parkinson and Greengrass were gone, it still stung to know I wasn’t a good enough reason to wait to torment me. “The-then why are you still here?” I asked quietly as I shifted my gaze to his feet. Was here because he was worried—

“Had to make sure that you didn’t stay the night over there. If you did then I might have to switch seats in Potions. I wouldn’t want to be contaminated by you.” He scoffed as he pushed himself off the wall and into an upright position. I felt a tightening sensation in my chest. 

Of course he was more worried about himself than me. What was I thinking?

“Well I’m not staying over so you can go now.” I snap. My hair flicks in his direction as I walk away in anger. Of course, he was only thinking about himself. That little selfish, ignorant, arrogant, spoiled brat!! No wonder everyone called him the Slytherin Prince!

Draco’s P.O.V.

I watch as Quinn flicks her auburn hair at me in a way I have never seen before. No one has ever been sassy to me. I scowl as I watch her frame slowly get smaller and smaller before completely disappearing from view. 

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath before heading the opposite direction towards the dungeons. Before this year I never knew Stella Quinn. It was like she was never there, hiding in plain sight. And yet she has me wrapped around her pretty finger. She wasn’t even that pretty. She was just average. And yet, I always find those pretty little green eyes looking at me. Even worse, I feel glad that she looks at me. I mean who wouldn’t want to look at me. I was every student’s crush at one point. And that’s me being humble. And yet I can’t help the angry thoughts that float around.

How dare she be friends with Potter and that filthy little mudblood! How dare she give me sass after I graciously helped her! But now that I have seen her, there was one thing I was sure of. She will kneel to me one way or another. I smirked. How I will love the day she will be humiliated.

[skaianettechsupport]

so i’ve gathered my thoughts a bit and…i’m still in camp pessimism, though more in a call the family just in case but he may pull through kind of way rather than jumping straight to writing a eulogy, i realize that we only saw 15 minutes of gameplay and that’s hardly anything, but based on that here are some of my thoughts (i’m sure there will be more (both critical and praising) after i’ve had time to really ruminate)

(adding a cut bc this was LONG)

the art style doesn’t totally have me sold, i realize it’s probably for performance and longevity’s sake but i really liked the skin textures in dai (they felt more human to me w/ their flaws rather than everyone being smoothed) i also don’t see why we have to redesign the demons & darkspawn every single game but that’s nit-picky (the spells are also a nit-picky thing for me i think there are better ways to illustrate an ice spell than putting big snowflake graphics on it)

i really wasn’t thrilled about the voice acting and thought a lot of the delivery sounded flat, along with that i thought that the writing was kind of lackluster and kept some of that vibe from the cinematic trailer that was making me nervous, all of the “what are we some kind of suicide squad” and “he’s right behind me isn’t he” comments are resonating for sure and i hope there’s a little less of that than the clips we saw implies

there were a lot of cutscene shots that, are forgivable, but did make me kind of roll my eyes because it just felt like the game desperately pointing out look how epic and sick and cool and kick ass these guys are trust me bro these guys are mind blowing fr you don’t have any frame of reference yet but you really don’t need it bc just look at them :) (some of the combat animations felt this way too, it felt gratuitous to me and could’ve been toned down a little, to be fair they probably are cool guys but i don’t know them yet and it felt like the game was trying to push me or convince me to feel a certain way rather than letting me develop those feelings/ideas on my own, it’s a little patronizing though again this is forgivable, it was just one of my minor gripes so it’s going in the post)

another minor gripe is that the game felt a lot more mass effect-y to me than dragon age, i know what minrathous is and i know it’s basically their equivalent of a hyper modern city, but it didn’t feel like it was magic powered to me it felt like sci-fi tech? (specifically the spotlights and loudspeaker announcements) i just wish it didn’t have that sci-fi futurism feel to it it was odd, though maybe it is more of a fantasy setting in game as you explore or maybe i’m just used to ferelden being super backwater, i don’t know, the vibe change is giving me some crazy whiplash

i guess my biggest issue was the va work and writing, i’m worried everyone will sound flat for the duration of the game and the writing will keep that cheesiness (which is what made me so anxious after the cinematic, i thought that might not bode too well) this game may be more tailored for “modern audiences” but i don’t think that means it needs to patronize the players and dumb itself down for us we can handle heavy subject matter and complex story lines (i remember seeing this gripe about inquisition too nothing new here, just a steady progression from 1 to 4 it seems) i’m not ready to throw a funeral for bioware or anything but i am feeling pretty nervous, cautiously observing shall we say, ill be a pessimistic optimist about it how about that

i will say that the lighting and effects are beautiful and the setting is also gorgeous, i’m excited to see everything and spend forever exploring. all this being said i will be creating the most sad little fail guy ever and romancing emmrich, thank you

(i’m just glad to see solas again, smoothed and flat in his delivery as he may be..and apparently there’s an inquisitor creator! so maybe there’s still hope for solavellan closure? maybe? maybe not..(please please please please please please pleaspleadepleasepleasepleasepleasdpease i’ll be happy if there’s satisfying closure i promise i PROMISE BIOWARE ARE YOU LISTENING????? I PROMISE ILL NEVER GRIPE AGAIN!!!!!!!!! OR BITCH OR MOAN OR COMPLAIN EVEN A TINY TINY BIT I SWEAR 😭🙏))

[inquisimer]

to all who feel rain

sneaking in under the wire of OC kiss week day 2 with some somft, tooth-rotting fluff :3 @dreadfutures' Ixchel & Neria share a warm drink and a moment of peace.

read it on ao3 here

Female Lavellan & Female Lavellan | Rated G | 647 words | No CW

-

Neria tripped through the mirror, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the tile. Ixchel looked up from the bar, already smiling. The bar was much more fun with company.

“Storm Coast?”

“Crestwood,” Wringing out her hair, Neria shook the cold and wet from her skin “Maker, why don’t the mirrors ever show up when I’m in Skyhold?”

“Give it time,” Ixchel chuckled. She grabbed a towel from the stack they kept on a warming rune behind the bar and tossed it in Neria’s direction. The elf patted herself dry, then finished the job with a simple drying spell that rippled the air around her as it flared over her skin and clothes.

“Tell me we have something hot to drink.”

Ixchel nodded, reaching for two mugs as Neria settled on one of the bar stools. There was a small cauldron simmering over a low-burning fire and she ladled the rich hot chocolate out in healthy amounts for each of them.

Neria wrapped her hands around the mug and drank deeply, shivering still as the warmth sank into her bones. She hummed and a slow, pleased smile stretched across her face. “Ahhh, that’s exactly what I needed.”

“Josephine can order it from traders out of Par Vollen, if you have coin.”

“Oh, we’ll find coin for that.”

Ixchel swung herself back up onto the bar top. Her bare heels kicked idly at the wood, bumping the oil lamp so the pooling light flickered and danced around them.

“So how is Crestwood?” she asked. Neria’s nose scrunched up and she sighed into her cocoa.

“Terrible, like everywhere is these days. And…odd, in many ways. Things that didn’t add up, coincidences that were a little too convenient.” She frowned. “Of course, we were traveling with Hawke, so my focus wasn’t particularly sharp. I probably just missed the connections that would make things add up.”

Interesting. Ixchel hummed her sympathy into her drink. She could offer little more than vague support—foreknowledge was a dangerous thing, when you held the future of many worlds over in your hand. Still, her steady presence was a comfort to Neria. She cupped her mug close to her side and leaned her head against Ixchel’s thigh.

“Seeking out the Wardens, then?”

“There’s really no other way at this point. I had hoped…well, that hardly matters now.” Neria sighed. I can only assume they have a good reason for whatever’s going on—Warden business rarely makes sense from the outside looking in. We just need to find the one person who can explain the apparent insanity to us.”

After so many years, Ixchel’s straight face was well-practiced. She wore it now, carefully drumming blunt nails down the edge of her mug. Nothing she could say would make much difference. Neria was simply venting in a way she only could to another Inquisitor—to someone who had been there, to someone who understood.

Ixchel set her drink aside and slid over the back of the bar. Another basket sat beside the towels, filled with soft blankets, each wrapped around a warming stone. She unfurled one and returned to her friend, draping it over her head and tucking it snuggly about her shoulders and neck. A shiver caught Neria by surprise—a rippling chill she hadn’t felt settle over her, chased away now. She offered up a grateful smile.

Ixchel stretched up to brush her lips across where Sylaise’ brands decorated Neria’s forehead.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “Freezing won’t help anyone in the meantime. Another drink?”

Neria nodded, her smile turning sheepish. Their fingers brushed as she handed the empty mug over, and again as Ixchel ladled it full and passed it back.

“Ma serranas.”

Ixchel gave her a knowing look, full of gentle understanding. “Rest, lethallin. The troubles of your world will be waiting when you get back.”