#and never expressed regret for being hidden plot details so.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Awwww thank you for the reply even more assorted thoughts under the cut then!!!!! (Didn't want to hijack the post but they didn't fit in the tags alone AH-)

I know nothing about bsd BUT I know about The Promised Neverland - which features a writer-artist partnership similar to the bsd one - which might give an idea of how the bsd creative process works out of comparison (spoilers for the first arc of tpn ahead):

In tpn Shirai (author) had full control over the plot while Demizu (artist) illustrated according to the writer's directions. There were istances where Demizu was appositely kept in the dark of plot developments so that their depiction of the new events could result as fresh as possible (and, in a way, deceiving for the reader too)- that's the case of the last page of chapter 32, where they drew Emma believing Ray had died, thus making Emma's reaction to his fake-death as true as possible. On the other hand, it's also true that in multiple occasions Demizu's drawings have inspired Shirai in their creative process, and I believe the same must have happened with bsd too in some cases. What I'm desperate to know is who makes the storyboards in bsd!!! In tpn Shirai made the storyboards Demizu was then to redraw; how does it work with bsd?

Overall, I suppose it's fair to assume the norm is artists not having an insight of the plot in order to keep their illustrations as authentic as possible... I mean, it makes sense in a way. For example, let's take the wet Dostoyevsky panel™ from this chapter:

What's going on in his mind? Does he have a plan? Was he expecting this move from Dazai? Or is he at loss? Maybe he's worried? Is he in control? It's hard to guess any of this by looking at the panel alone- he simply looks unamused. And that's the point! Making his expression impossible to read is definitely intentional: it solves the purpose of keeping the reader on edge and increase the suspense for what's going to happen next. And what better way to keep a panel ambiguous than having the artist themselves not know the reason behind a character's emotions? Not knowing the details of the plot, they won't risk making Dostoyevsky appear confident - or desperate - according to what's really going on in his mind, simply because they themselves don't know what is that he's feeling.

This was just to make an example on the logic behind not having artists aware of the storyline- I'm in no way saying that's what happened in this specific case as I'd have no way to know ahah. But yeah, overall I'm under the impression usually the artist doesn't know as much about the plot as the writer and editor do.

And now I'm going to talk more chapter 31 cover because I can't shut up alsbskabakabakab

I really like it because it's one of the very few instances - even the only I'd dare to say?? Idk I don't usually pay much attention to skk so I may be missing something - of skk showing genuine, PALPABLE sentiments that aren't hate or annoyance for each other. Like literally the entirety of their screentime they spend bickering, or insulting, or fighting, and it's up to the reader's interpretation whether they actually genuinely despise each other, but here? There's a lot of things you could see in the look they exchange - confusion, regret, dismay, sorrow even? - but it's //not// the usual loathing and it's something I cherish!! It's a fleeting page but it's really one that makes you think there might be more to their relationship than mutual annoyance, and I think that's very nice.

Also stating the obvious but: they're so small!!!!!!! So little!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think the one depicted is such a inherently childhood experience: a kid might have just fought with another kid, but they'll still be upset and throw a tantrum when time comes to go their separate ways. Even if, when placed in the bigger picture, it holds the deeper meaning of separation between the two (separation we never went into as Fifteen took a different route, but that might also symbolize their second separation when Dazai left the mafia and broke their partnership); even if it's symbolically poignant it's just... Weird to think about Chuuya and Dazai going through such a common, trivial childhood experience. Weird to think of Chuuya and Dazai acting like children. It's cute. It makes me wonder if their hatred for each other too might actually not have been an authentic expression of their true nature but rather a way in which they imitated the world that surrounded them - a world full of hate -, denying their own nature of being nothing more than children. (It's definitely not that deep and I'm just looking too much into it but it's all for the fun of analyzing ahah)

And lastly- PFFFFTT I always assumed Chuuya's style was inspired by some kind of witch iconography, but never actually stopped to think about it until now? In particular, I find it reminiscent of 1600s north America fashion. I probably came to such conclusion after reading the snippet about the real author at the end of volume 6, which reports that the author apparently used to style himself in “black hats and overcoats” “[that made him look] a bit like a sorcerer himself”.

That's it thank you again for the food for thought Op ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ Sorry if this got long aaaaaaaaahh

Thinking about Dazai's memories

I think it's interesting how we basically got two sets of Dazai's memories within 3 months, so since I analyzed the Beast ones, I thought I'd analyze these as well. As always it's just me rambling under the cut, and remember guys that below there are spoilers from everything up until this point!

The first memory memory we see is a completely new one. I love it when montages use new memories instead of simply reusing what was shown before, so I appreciate this little scene. Their outfits are taken from chapter 31 and seeing Chuuya in these clothes was so strangely nostalgic. The only difference is that Dazai has his arm broken instead of his leg. Also I like how young they look here. They're just kids annoying each other just like Dazai is saying in the background.

The second memory I'm pretty sure is also one of the new scenes we haven't seen before. It looks like Fifteen, but I don't recognize this background and the closest illustration I could find is the one from the light novel. Maybe it's supposed to show how they gained confidence and were ruling the city (judging by the building in the background), but yeah that's all I have.

After that I noticed a scene from chapter 31 in bottom left. It's taken right from the manga with no changes besides Chuuya's jacket being coloured in. Considering Dazai's fascination with corruption, it makes sense that it appears in his memories. Here, it's been 4 years since they fought together and it's the first time Dazai could observe Chuuya being possessed in a long time. Interestingly, it's not corruption in its peak that's portrayed here but the moment when Dazai is bringing Chuuya back to his senses. With the context of this chapter, it might mean that Dazai wants to protect Chuuya and despite liking danger and sending Chuuya to fight directly, he cares about him.

Bottom right seems to be from chapter 31 as well, just slightly changed. And that also makes sense because these are supposed to be his memories, so he might not remember each detail perfectly. It's the moment when Dazai sends Chuuya into action, which is something I already mentioned. Dazai likes to see Chuuya fight and to tease him, and this chapter had both.

With this next one I have no idea which scene it could be. I'm like 75% sure it's from their first meeting after 4 years back in chapters 10 and 11, but it's a reach. We only have Dazai's legs, a bit of his coat and Chuuya's shoulder, so there's not a lot to work with. But it does make sense for it to be from their first meeting after 4 years, because it was important for them both. Dazai stayed in that dungeon partially because he wanted to talk with Chuuya and this is what this memory could be alluding to. My first thought was Dazai leaving Chuuya behind after Oda's death, but I don't think he got his coat right this soon.

Then we have one of the most iconic skk scenes from Storm Bringer. Not to spoil it too much, but in this scene Chuuya decides to save Yokohama even if it means never getting to know if he's a human being. In this scene he trusts Dazai's plan and goes into action, something Dazai must be looking back at fondly. I kinda wish we had the scene in which he catches Chuuya after the fight, but I guess it would be too fluffy for this angsty chapter.

And I left 2 memries that I thought were the most interesting additions for last. The firts one being this scene from Dead Apple and I'm so happy that it made it here for a few reasons. First of all now we have a proof that Dead Apple is canon in the manga. I know it was canon before, but it wasn't mentioned or anything, so there was this shadow of doubt. Now, it's 100% canon. The other reason is that I'd love to see Dead Apple with Harukawa's art style and it's great that we now have this scene even though it's just a shadow. I wondered how it would be shown in the main manga and now I don't have to anymore. It also looks way more desperate than in the movie or Dead Apple manga, because of the wind and how Chuuya reaches his arm to Dazai before he punches him. It's also most likely Dazai's imagination, since he was unconscious when it happened.

And last but absolutely not least (on the contrary, I wanted to hype it up), we have one of the most iconic skk scenes, and here comes the question, is it even from Fifteen? Because as we can see, the positions of hands are swapped and Dazai isn't wearing this brace type of thing on his arm. This scene isn't in the original light novel, so either Asagiri and Harukawa were like screw it, we're adding it to the canon or it's a different instance. And if it's a different situation, then what was this fight? It's also possible that the positions are switched because it's Dazai's pov not Chuuya's like in the anime. Either way hand-holding is now canon and I'm so happy about this fact.

In conclusion

Dazai's memories with Chuuya seem to be a mix of their fights with enemies and some other moments they shared as well, putting an emphasis not on the fights themselves (since there are no other people and they aren't in combat stances), but their connection throught them. I wish we got to see more scenes, but I understand going overboard could be on overkill, especially if it's just a cliffhanger death meant to fool us. It's hard to judge Dazai's reaction, because he could be putting on a show, but it also seems to be genuine and cherishing these memories would make sense for his character. I'm so glad we got to see this little peek into Dazai's mind and his memories, and now I want more.

[felassan]

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source] 

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok.  What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important.  They're like sets in a play.  (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source]  Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source]  There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars]  except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves. [source]

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[amindofstone]

Match up, No. 9

@starlightbydaybright hat gefragt:

Hello! Saw you were taking match-ups and I was wondering if I could request one. Only done one before for another fandom, and I was wondering who I’d align with for One Piece ^^

I'm an INFP and generally an introvert, finding it difficult to express myself when I'm around people I'm unfamiliar with or just not close to. I can be both quiet and shy; quiet when I have no interest in making good impression on that person (a stranger I'll see once and never again) and shy when I'm genuinely trying to make myself acceptable to them. But, I do trust easily, so it's not hard to get close enough with me that I'll open up about almost everything, so long as they understand have my boundaries (that'll shift depending on how close). I'm also very affectionate with people I'm close with, particularly through physical touch, since I've been pretty touch starved. If you're close friends with me, you can find me constantly looking for a hug, but I can respect boundaries since not everyone enjoys contact.

The situation would be a bit different romance wise, since I’d revert a bit back to my introverted side, but also very affection-seeking at the same time. I say affection seeking as in I’d crave time and activities spent together with them, but I’d be afraid to ask/initiate, at least during the early beginnings of the relationship. I’d be constantly seeking affirmation of their love, and since I’ve never been in a relationship before (but desperately wanted one), they’d be constantly receiving my love too ❤️

While being an introvert in reality, I find it much easier to speak with confidence online. as I actually have time to contemplate what I can say. It's when I'm either with close friends or on the internet, that I can go on passionate endless rants or show my passive aggressive side. I'm usually pacifist, but if something irks me enough, I can and will pitch in snide/sarcastic remark or two, or if it's more serious; I will write out whole sophisticated and well worded paragraph that'd sound all polite with a hidden snarky tone.

I'm pretty much a hopeless romantic, so there's lot of couple things I want to try when I find someone. Back hugs, bridal carry, tickle fights, you name it. While I do enjoy these displays of affection (comes with the happy kind of embarrassment aka. I feel embarrassed that others sees it but I’m happy because I know they’re not doing it out of maliciousness and because they truly love me), small gestures are appreciated too; a gentle squeeze of the hand, a passing smile, etc.

As for hobbies, I enjoy reading, writing, (occasionally) drawing, but most of all; probably singing. I enjoy a wide variety of songs, depending on what mood I'm in, but I particularly like songs about love. Looking for someone to sing the duet love songs with me, doesn't matter how good or bad they are at singing. They can be tone deaf for all I care, it's the thought that matters 😊

I'm very emotionally sensitive, and can both laugh and cry easily. A random stranger online wished me good day? I'll be in good mood for awhile. Watched a 'mildly' sad movie? (Extra emphasis on mildly) I better have new box of tissue on the side just in case. It'd be nice to have someone that can either comfort me or at least tolerate my emotions, so I wouldn't be irking them 😞

I don't really have a type when looking for significant other but being an INFP does make the romance thing complicated. It'd be nice to have someone that's far along on the extroverted side (just not happy go lucky and can be serious) since, despite being introverted, I like to experience new things. I'm just too afraid to try alone and prefer it if someone else recommends it first. Someone to prompt me and nudge me to do something, but won’t take it too far if I really looked uncomfortable. (I’m also a procrastinator so they gotta find out the right ratio between pushing vs. taking it too far 😅) In relationship, I'd value trust and loyalty the most, since both are important in keeping the healthy relationship. If both sides could equally trust and be trusted, then there wouldn't be place for insecurity or fear. This ties in with another part of me being an INFP; I want a relationship that lasts forever. While it's weird to decide how long lasting the love will be early in the relationship, I don't think I can fully commit myself to someone, knowing that it'll end (through the other side falling out of love with me, finding interest in someone else, etc.) (natural causes like death are fine, even though I will still be sad 🥲)

As for appearance, I’m a 5”4 female with slightly wavy black hair that reach nearly to my waist. I don’t think I’m particularly short, but then again, every anime character seems to be straight up giants XD (Man, I was born with the wrong genes) I’m overall very plain, with black hair, brown eyes, but I’ve always been told I had pretty long eyelashes and big bright eyes. Average weight for my height, and flat chested :’)

As for the preference for gender, I’m mainly attracted to guys. I had some (very few) crushes on a small selection of female anime characters, but that were very rare, like 3, compared to my (insert large number) male crushes

Thank you in advance and sorry for how long this is 😔

P.s. I feel like I need to emphasize I’m still an introvert, since the personality I described is only limited to my very small friend group

a/n:

Hey there? How are you doing? Thank you so much for requesting. First off I should be apologizing for making you wait so long. I hope you´re not mad at me but lately there is a lot happening in my life. In my private life but also in my college life. But let´s put that aside and get to your request.

I have to thank you for the detailed info about you because that helped me to choose a match up for you so much. Like I instantly could think of someone. Not only did it help me to match you up with someone but also to come up with a plot. So I came up with this little imagine/hedcanon… I really don´t know what to call my work for the imaginies so I go with work. XD Anyways I really don´t know what to do at this point. Your request and your personality gave me such a good idea for a plot that I tried my best to keep it short because I decided to turn this request and my ideas and thoughts that are flying around in my mind to an actual FANFICTION! AHHHHHHHH. I can´t stop thinking about it. The idea sounds so damn good in my head that it makes me smile like an idiot right now! Uff I can´t wait to find time writing it down. AHAHH, but I fear that I already gave aways so much with this!!!! *pouts Doesn´t matter I´ll do it anyways. AHHHHHHHHHHH Thank you so damn much for requesting!

Anyways! Back to my work now. If there is anything that bothers you or you simply hate please make sure to tell me so I can change it and give you whatever you´d like. Other than that happy reading my dear!

Match up rules can be found HERE.

Warning(s): Maybe grammatical or spelling mistakes since English is my third language and I´m still improving in every aspect (Please have mercy on that.)

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me if this is shared or published in any other platform or any other way. Please respect me as the writer and my work. Picture is not mine. Credits to: I sadly don't know. Please tell me of you know so I can give credits. Thank you in advance. !!!

· I decided to pair you up with KILLER

· Like am I the only person that thinks that he is not getting the screen time and appreciation he deserves? Because that is the damn case! ODA GIVE THIS MAN THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION HE DESERVES. And while we´re at it I wouldn´t mind if I would get a bit more of Eustass Kid too… Thank you in advance. <3

· But that’s not the point. Please dear requesting beautiful human being give this man and me, your hopelessly dreamy author a chance. Thank you, I really appreciate. <3

· aNyWaYssssS.

+

· “y/n? Are you still awake?”, asked the blond man softly. “No worries I won´t make you carry me to bed again.”, you said with a giggle. You couldn´t see his face but you knew that he was smiling. “I don´t mind that you know? I like having you close to me without having to fear to see you hid under the blanket for who knows how long.”, you rolled you eyes and hit his arms. “That only happened because that idiot captain of yours annoyed the hell out of me. That was embarrassing Killer.”, you slowly put one leg over the railing and then the next one. Making sure you don´t fall down the ship. “What happened? Didn´t you drag me out our cabin to watch the stars?”, asked the muscular man who held you close to him while making sure you didn´t fell. “I did but now I´d like to look at something different. Something even more beautiful. Something that gives me warmth and happiness. Something that keeps me alive and always makes sure I am doing fine.”, talking to the blond pirate while sitting at the railing was one of the rare moments you were close to an eye level with him. “You mean my mask?”, asked the man with a tiled head that got you to roll your eyes and hit his chest. “Great you destroyed the sweet moment. I hate you. Make a step back so I can get down. I want to go back to bed and drown in regret of dating you.”, you tried to push him away but he was obviously stronger and threw you over his shoulder. “Of course you hate me. That was also the exact same thing you were moaning a while ago. Let´s go back to bed nerd.”

· As sweet and loving your relationship was now with the pirate it also started like that. Wanna know how? Alright let me get comfortable in my bed and get started. Story TIIMMMEEEE!!!

· An island well known for their universities and scientist. An island full of top ranked doctors.

· Physics, chemistry, biology, astrology was well thaught in the schools of the island. An island well known around the world. An island ruled by a powerful devil fruit user.

· An island in which every civilian had a talent in another field. And you? You sadly had an impressive talent for languages.

· Why sadly you wonder? Well the amount of times you had to run for your dear life because some pirates could come and kidnap you and make you read the poneglyphs is immense.

· Once even the infamous Red haired Shanks came and asked you with the hope to have someone who could read them. But sadly you couldn´t. You told him that you were done with pirates coming for you or your best friends. You regretted learning all of that and hated yourself for that. Shanks and Beckman to whom your were talking to really felt bad for you and claimed the island as their territory after they had a chat with ruler and made a deal.

· That was that saved you and your friends for years and made you happy. You were thankful to the red hair pirates and always treated them with meals and drinks when they came visiting the island. You were happy for 5 years. 5 years until these stupid reckless pirates came.

· And now? Now you hated yourself all over again

· You knew that not every pirate was like the red hair pirates. Nice and respectful. They didn´t kill innocent people and destroyed civilizations only to get some gold and diamonds. But these? These were horrible. Cold and cruel.

· “Someone make this btch talk otherwise I´ll do it by cutting her into pieces only stropping when IT actually starts to answer my god damn questions!”, screamed a tall and guy with red hair.

· You were scared. Tied on a mast on their ship, you feared for your life. Screaming for help was not an option since you were already on the sea since a while now.

· The man that was yelling at you none stop was now holding a blond man with a mask at his collar and growling at him. The man might have a mask on but you somehow had the feeling that he was talking to the man with the red fur coat. “Clear the deck! NOW!!”; yelled the man before he left inside the ship. Slowly every man on deck was leaving you alone. You wanted to ask them were or why the left but you knew that they wouldn´t give you an answer. You were a prisoner. A captive. A pathetic human they took on board. With the last pirate leaving you behind, a door that was located behind the mast you were tied on closed while the need to cry grew inside of you. How long am I here by now? One hour? Two or three? Was anyone missing me back at home? Were they already looking for me? Thoughts that occupied your mind were blurring your vision. You were looking right in front of you but also not. Your eyes were wide open but your vision was back at home. Home were you belonged.

· “Hey. Hey can you hear me? Hey you alright, woman? Hello?”, a man was squatting in front of you and waving with his hands in front of your face. You were deeply lost in your thoughts that you neither heard him coming nor saw him sitting right in front of you.

· But the moment he touched you tight you screamed and got back to reality. “Please don´t touch me. Please don´t hurt me. Please I beg you. Please.”, fear was written all over your face. You saw yourself death with a huge puddle of your blood. “Alright I won´t touch you. It´s just that I´ve been sitting in front of you for 5 minutes now and the only thing you did was breath and say no. Anyways here is something to drink. You´ve been her for four hours now. Half of the time unconscious and the other one either basically mute or in a trance.”, the guy in front of you was the same one who got the mad man to leave and clear the deck. It made you wonder who he was that he had such a power but you didn´t dare to ask. “Here I hold it for you and you drink.”, the glass was put on your lips and you drank. You didn´t knew how thirsty you were until your lungs were wetted by the water. Finished drinking he put a blanket over your legs since the position your were in didn´t allow you to cover yourself properly. And the fact that you were wearing a dress wasn´t helping at all.

· “Alright. You had something to drink I got you a blanket now tell me are you able to talk to me and answer my questions?”, you nodded. “Good. Now listen to me. There is this language that is called Krisanasy. As far as I know there is a tiny amount of people who are able to speak that and you are one of these. Am I right?”, you nodded. “How well are you in it?”, you gulped and looked at the man with the mask “I know the most important basics. I remember basic grammar rules and a good amount of vocabulary but I´m not that good in it. I didn´t worked with anything that included this language since years now.”, the masked man nodded and fully sat down now. “Would you be able to get back in it if you had some books and scripts to work with?”, slowly you understood where this was supposed to lead. You knew that if you said yes they would keep you as their prisoner and make your work for them. And if they had everything they would kill you because there would be no more use for you. But if you said no now and refused to talk to him he would probably also kill you. You were in a dilemma. You didn´t wanted to die but also didn´t wanted to die after you helped them. They were criminals. Feared and hated by the government and any human around the world. You looked down on your lap and let your head fall forward so your long black hair covered your face. “Hey I asked you something. Would you be able to do that?”, his voice was deep and rough but in the same time soft and gentle. That irritated you. it make you realize that him being nice to you now was just a way to get under your skin and make you do whatever they wanted. And then they simply would kill you in the most brutal and cruel way. “Hey, woman. Are you listening?”, you felt helpless. “I don´t want to die. Please let me go. Please. I beg you. Please.”, tears were streaming down you cheeks you couldn´t hold back anymore. He came closer and lifted you face. “Listen here you are a smart woman. Stop crying for fcks sake. If I would be you I would have made these pirates work for me. Use your damn brain and stop crying. Do you really think anyone in here would kill you? Heck no! They need your help. They need your brain because all of them are basically stupid. Like damn I need you to answer all of my questions before my captain with anger issues comes and beats the sht out of me. Now answer me woman. Are you able to get back in it if we got you some scripts to work on?”, you nodded while more tears streamed down you cheeks. You felt pathetic. You felt worthless and used. Helping them would turn you into a criminal too and ruin everything you worked on. Everything the emperor did for you and the island would be wasted. “See wasn’t that hard to answer.”

· The questioning went on for a while you didn´t know for how long but you knew that a long time passed since the sun stared to set. “Alright. Now I give you two options. One, stay here. Tied up on the mast no matter what kind of weather we face. Two you swear to obey me no matter what kind of order I give you and you will be able to sleep on a bed. You will get food and tomorrow you will start working on the scripts we give you. You choose.”, with your head hung lowly you said number two and instantly got released from the chains and handcuffs. He helped you stand up and covered you in the blanket before he led you into his cabin. “Wait here. Sit there and don´t do anything stupid as long as I´m not here. If you do anything stupid I won´t be able to help you. Got it?”, he didn´t even wait until you answered or gave any reaction he simply left and closed the door after him. So you waited while sitting with a lowly hung head. Minutes passed and he came back. “Your clothes are dirty. The bathroom is empty so you can take a bath or shower. Anything you want but I´ll be in the room with you. Because of one I have to make sure no one is coming in and secondly to watch over you and make sure you don´t do anything stupid. Got it. Fine. Take this towel and these clothes. We don´t have any female crewmates so you have to be wearing with my clothes until we dock on another island and you get to buy clothes.”

· The man with the mask took care of you for the rest of the day. He took you to shower and gave you fresh clothes. You had dinner with him alone in the kitchen when no one was around and got back to sleep. And no matter what you did he made sure to keep a respectful distance towards you. Whenever he had to come closer or touch you to take care of your wounds he would warn you. The day kept going like that. Nothing else was said about the following days and the thing they wanted you for. Only necessary things were said that were needed at the moment. And you only gave short replays or only answered with a head movement.

· Slowly the day passed by and the night took over with the moon putting the world alight. You were back in his cabin with him sitting on an armchair and you lying in bed sleeping with one hand tied up on the bed.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twenty-six

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Deceiving all parties

Black Noir felt as though he were walking on air. Nothing could touch him or distract his thoughts of her. The evening before he’d allowed her to see behind the mask, to see behind the walls he’d spent his whole existence building. And she’d gazed at him with such intense emotion and something he could not put his finger on. But she saw something in his eyes, she saw something in him other than a cold-blooded killer. She didn’t flinch away from the web of scars that crossed the side of his face; instead, she lightly traced them with her finger, and her eyes didn’t hold pity but understanding.

Unfortunately, his mood was ruined as he crossed paths with Homelander upon reaching The Seven’s floor.

The caped man smiled wide, baring perfectly straight white teeth.

“Noir, there you are,” he spoke, lightly slapping the other man’s shoulder.

The man simply stared at him, but Homelander didn’t let it deter him.

“We’re going to have a meeting in fifteen minutes. You’re going to want to be there.”

Homelander said it casually, but the light tone was hiding a subtle edge. Noir only nodded before moving on. He’d be there, all right, so he’d know at what point the maniac was in his desperate hunt.

Homelander continued walking and finally called out, “Wouldn’t be a team meeting without you, Noir.”

He then took the elevator, mentally patting himself on the back for being such a responsible and caring leader.

Noir couldn’t help but clench his fists as he trudged back to his living quarters. With heavy steps, he slipped inside and let thoughts of Sarah soothe his rage.

 [Fifteen minutes later]

In the conference room, four superheroes waited.

Black Noir watched them, observing their small quirks and tell-tale signs. Queen Maeve had her arms crossed tightly against her chest and her foot was lightly tapping against the floor. Beside her, Starlight sat with a straight back but made herself seem small. Her eyes were lowered to the table’s surface and they often darted off to the sides. It was guilt, and Noir filed it away for later use. Finally, he moved his attention to A-Train, who appeared to be royally pissed. He swung lightly from side to side in his swivel chair, deep in thought. Lips pursed, he stared at a point on the table before him.

Noir leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers together.

Soon, Homelander barged through the doors as arrogant as ever. He didn’t spare a glance at any of his teammates and reached the head of the table with long, purposeful strides.

Noir gave a quick glance at the others, seeing both Queen Maeve and A-Train stiffen, bracing themselves. And, well, Starlight seemed to make herself even smaller: she was afraid. Like a dog about to be beat with a stick, she seemed to curl into herself, her eyes never lifting to look at Homelander. As if sensing Noir’s attention, her eyes darted to his and he found no regret. He wondered what she had done to warrant this fear of Homelander. Sure, he was a maniac, but he’d never seen her cower this way. Starlight clenched her teeth and lowered her eyes.

It was the smallest and most fleeting of details that were the most telling, and Noir had since learned to observe them.

“Everyone,” Homelander began, “we have a few talking points we need to cover today.”

He grasped the back of his chair, leaning against it.

“First of all, as you can see, the Deep is not with us today nor will he ever be back in this Tower, I suppose.” He fixed his gaze on the superheroes before him, gauging their reactions. “We are your teammates, Starlight,” he continued, “We are your family, and we support you,” he told her directly.

She slowly met his gaze and nodded.

Noir found it to be the most ungenuine exchange he’d ever seen. Family? Bitch, please.

Satisfied by her acknowledgement, Homelander proceeded, “The Deep has been assigned to…” he trailed off, “I don’t know, somewhere in Ohio.” Upon further thought, he added with a shrug, “Never liked him anyway.”

Noir had always found The Deep of slimy character and couldn’t care less. He wanted to know how the hunt for Marianna Stacker was proceeding.

Homelander moved onto the next point, “Secondly, it is with a heavy heart that I announce the retirement of a teammate,” he paused for dramatic effect, and Noir rolled his eyes. “A-Train will be leaving us shortly,” he shook his head. “His going-away party will be coming up in the next week.”

Noir let his gaze pass over A-Train once more, noting the tension in his shoulders. It obviously wasn’t a voluntary retirement.

Homelander went on, twisting the knife, “A-Train, you will be sorely missed.”

The speedster stilled and shot a murderous side-eye at the blonde man.

Noir thought the venomous look deserved an applause.

After a few moments of silence, Homelander cleared his throat and gave A-Train a meaningful look.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with my fellow teammates about confidential information.”

Immediately, A-Train scoffed, “I’m not retired yet—”

“You are,” Homelander cut in. “You are retired, and I will not ask you to leave twice.”

In disbelief, the runner stared at the serious man. Finally, he pushed himself out of his chair and stalked out of the room.

Homelander’s serious expression broke and gave way to a wide smile.

“There,” he sighed. “Now we can talk business.”

Still standing, he paced over to the windows.

He glanced over at Black Noir, “I trust that you’re working on Stacker’s location.”

The man nodded.

“Good,” Homelander nodded to himself scanning the city below him. “I was able to gain some information on this woman down in security…,” he trailed off as he spun away from the view. “She is tall and has straight, black hair so keep your eyes open for women who fit the description.”

Black Noir almost sputtered. That was all he had. He was so pompous and arrogant that he thought this information was a breakthrough, a step forward. Stupid bitch.

After his dramatic pause, Homelander continued, “Edgar, for some unknown reason, seems to think the company she works for Vought and security is looking through employee profiles for anything suspicious—"

Queen Maeve spoke up, “So what are we supposed to do.”

For a split second, Homelander seemed put off, not expecting the interruption.

“Like I said, keep your eyes open. They may not tell us everything but we’re the backbone of this place. We know she works here, within these very walls. Whether she runs or trips up, we will catch her.”

Black Noir couldn’t help the chant in his brain. Stupid, stupid star-spangled bitch.

Homelander gazed at them, mentally weighing his next question.

“Does anyone here know of an Adam Pieters?”

The superheroes looked at each other around the table and Maeve finally cleared her throat.

“Uhm, I don’t know much, but Vought wanted him to join the Seven a while ago. Supposedly his power lies in coding, computers, technology, and things like that. He sees patterns where others don’t.”

Homelander chuckled, “Doesn’t seem like much of a power to me.” Nevertheless, he contemplated her words. “Where is this man?”

“No one knows, really. He constantly changes identity and moves around. He didn’t want the government or the market to use his hacking ability.”

Homelander seemed surprised and maybe disgusted. Noir mentally snorted. That man couldn’t recognize a moral compass if it were spelled out for him. Now, Noir had been raised to act above a moral compass, but he could recognize what it meant to others even though he didn’t necessarily abide to one himself. And Noir had come to question it, while Homelander was not bothered by such doubts.

Queen Maeve concluded her thought, “Pieters declined Vought’s offer and disappeared.”

“Well,” Homelander chuckled, “They have a pretty good lead on him and they’re planning on bringing him in to track this Marianna Stacker and any potential accomplices.”

He scanned the room and finally decided, “We will get to him first and he will tell us who she is.”

Black Noir stared at him, realizing that, indeed, the man was like a dog with a bone. If he’d continued going at it alone, there would have been nothing to worry about. The man wasn’t particularly intelligent and only saw things through his narrow, arrogant point of view. But now, Noir was growing worried.

He could keep Sarah safe by shifting the suspicion onto other characters and making sure she stayed hidden in plain view. But Adam Pieters was a variable he could not control. All Vought or Homelander would have to do was get him seated in front of a computer or the server she had hacked. No, Adam Pieters had to go.

Homelander interrupted his thoughts.

“Meeting adjourned, I need to think.”

Everyone immediately stood and headed out the door. Starlight sighed in relief and Maeve barely contained her frustration, wishing she could knock the team-leader off his pedestal. Noir was wrapped in the thought of murdering a certain tech genius. They all silently went their separate ways.

 [Late afternoon, Vought Tower]

Black Noir found himself, once again, taking the elevator up to the top floor.

Oddly, he didn’t feel the usual anticipation, the nervous energy that would build up before being assigned a new mission. No, he was on edge, barely hiding the tension.

Mr. Edgar was sharp and wouldn’t be as easily fooled as Homelander.

Stepping into the spacious office, the businessman barely lifted his head and beckoned him forward.

“Sit, Noir,” he spoke with a monotonous voice, eyes still glued to the document before him.

Once he’d finished reading it, he signed at the bottom and neatly filed it away in a drawer.

“So,” he drew out, folding his glasses and setting them on the desk, “How is your assignment proceeding?”

He slipped a blank paper and pen across the desk.

Noir quickly scribbled, Difficult. Not impossible.

Mr. Edgar watched him, almost as though he were scanning his thoughts. Noir sat stock-still, calm and collected.

“Right,” the man continued with his usual tone of voice. It was one of the man’s most peculiar aspects and let no emotion transpire. It was a deep, unwavering, monotonous voice that carried its message in a direct, clear, and unnegotiable manner. “It will not be easy. She has prepared for this and has probably been planning it for some time. She works here and is probably hiding in plain sight.”

Noir only nodded.

“Now, let’s discuss your new assignment. You,” Mr. Edgar spoke clearly, “are to stop Homelander from finding Pieters and intervening in our apprehension of Ms. Stacker.”

Immediately, Noir straightened in his seat, tilting his head only slightly to the right.

“Don’t be naïve,” Mr. Edgar clarified, “I have my ways of knowing these things and, while his speech was cute,” his eyes held a tinge of amusement, “I do not need him running around, putting holes into our operation.” He grew serious, “I will not have that overgrown child interfering with my plans.”

Mr. Edgar looked out the window before returning his attention to the hitman sat before him.

“Do you understand?”

Noir firmly nodded. He was pretty sure his boss didn’t mean for him to kill Pieters, but they did agree on keeping Homelander out of it.

“That’s good,” Mr. Edgar proceeded as though he’d given a choice and not an order. “And the girl.”

Noir perked up, suddenly unsure of what the man knew of Sarah Burns.

“I don’t mind you finding companionship,” the man fixed his gaze on him. “But if I find that she is a distraction or interferes with your work… she will be dealt with accordingly.”

At these words, Noir visibly tensed as dread churned in his stomach. He’d brought attention to her when she was supposed to blend in with everyone else. He cleared his throat, feeling himself grow hot. In the silent office, his mind ran through different scenarios. He could fool Homelander, but he wasn’t sure he could do the same with the cunning, ruthless man before him. He had channels, informers and observation skills that would focus on Sarah until he’d dug up her true backstory. Noir fidgeted slightly before stopping himself, knowing Mr. Edgar would catch onto the most minute insecurity.  

He could deny any attachment, but that could warrant suspicion. No, the cat was out the bag and distancing himself or hiding their ties would only gather more attention. He didn’t always understand his boss’s ways, but he did know him to be persistent.

No, he would be open about it, as though there were nothing to hide.

He took the pen back into hand, She is my friend, but she will not interfere with my work

Mr. Edgar carefully watched him, “Is she important to you?”

Noir didn’t hesitate to nod.

“I see,” Mr. Edgar responded gathering another file of papers he had to read and sign. “You are dismissed,” he told Noir, slipping his glasses back on.

“Oh, and Noir,” he called out. “I’d love to meet this Sarah Burns. Bring her as your plus-one to A-Train’s retirement, would you? It’ll be in two weeks, on the twenty-first.”

It was formulated as a question, but Noir knew better.

He nodded and headed out the door.

Noir felt both awake and tired, knowing how deep of a hole he was digging for himself and Sarah. He had to play nice with Homelander but secretly stop him from using Pieters to find her. At the same time, he had to find a convincing lead and show Mr. Edgar he was working towards finding Stacker, even though he would actually be setting Vought off-course.

He sighed lightly and made his way back to his quarters.

 [Five minutes later, Mr. Edgar’s office]

Mr. Edgar, who had begun flipping through papers, stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He gingerly placed the pile on the desk’s surface, taking his phone into hand.

It rang a mere two seconds before the other end picked up.

“Hello Jimmy, I want you to proceed with what we discussed. I want DNA testing to be a viable option should Pieters fall through.”

He listened in before confirming.

“Yes, Friday the twenty-first.”

The man on the other end of the line answered and fell silent.

“Excellent.”

Mr. Edgar concluded the call and fell deep into thought.

There was so much that needed to be dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.

Finally, he set his whirling thoughts aside and focused on the pile of papers in front of him, letting the silence of his office quiet his mind.

MASTERLIST

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[lys-lilac]

Romance MD: Always on Call - Detailed Summary - Toshiki Kasumi

This section contains heavy spoilers! If you want to read and relish the story, go ahead! But if you haven’t and don’t want to, it’s okay. You can go to this link for the character analysis for now-  here

Go through the plot, laugh, cry in every episode and then come back to this section for reading my thoughts and inspiration it gave me! But, I am telling you, this is a wonderful story and you will not regret it... Alright, let’s get started.

Each chapter is carved out with such precision that it directly hits the heart. In one, I was laughing, in the next, crying, and yet in the other, appreciating the progress. It actually felt as if the player is MC itself and everything is happening in real. Honestly, this is amazing. 

There are many key-factors of the story which is different from the genre of otome games, and which fulfills many lost points in the general trend. This is what interested me the most. As I stated in the analysis post (linked in the upper description), the prologue itself satisfied the fact that there is something hidden which needs to be sorted out. 

Let’s discuss about our lives. Anyone’s behavior is based on the environment in which he/she is grown. If someone is bubbly, then that could be due to his/her cheerful environment or maybe, some situation which has nurtured him/her like this. The same goes for strict/cold ones. This piqued my interest. (Leave aside my craze for Medical science, haha...)

Now, which are the things which inspired me the most? Here are those points-

1. The knowledge the story gives- I have never gone through a story which goes through such detail in the field of surgery and medical science. I truly appreciate the amount of knowledge and the terms they provided in each chapter. Along with that, the value of relationships, family, friends is greatly shown in the work, which is so important for character development.

2. Hardwork and diligence- Can I just take one second to praise the amount of hours the surgeons are working? I am impressed to such an extent that it is beyond words to express. And this cardiovascular genius. He doesn’t even sleep...?! There are several instances for this in the story. 

  First, they hold study sessions all night and go back to work without even resting for an hour. Second, when MC brings Kasumi back from England, he straight gets to work. Third, when Kasumi had fever, he just rested for a few hours and again back to his work. He even tells MC to go back to rest, but he doesn’t (or sometimes.)...

This is just fantastic. Whenever you are just about to give up, just come to this section and read this part, I am sure you will be motivated enough to resume back. Can you believe he wrote his first medical paper on how to save a plant when he was in middle school? If he can do, then why not you? 

The same thing goes for MC. If Kasumi decided to be her mentor, that’s because she is excellent in her studies, has an good past record and praises from her previous teachers. She has this zeal to pursue surgery and ace in it. Perfectly. No compromises.

3. She loves herself- I had read a post where one player mentioned that MC was arrogant. I can understand. But, what’s the point of acting sweet and not doing anything? Instead, if you have achieved what you want to be, then you should be confident, and believe in yourself. 

I wanted to make another sub-point, but I think this point will also fit in this section. MC here is unique from other MCs in appearance. In general, the MCs that I have seen so far are extremely beautiful, with long hair, fair skin, bla bla bla. I have also read some views from other players about this. Some games should be designed in the way that they cater to the needs that the players want. Everyone is pretty, as we are the beautiful creation of God. Outer appearance doesn’t matter. What matters the most is your inner quality. Kasumi didn’t love MC because of how she looks, but because she reached out to him when he was about to get crumpled by his emotions. 

What’s more, MC doesn’t take this as consideration. Instead of overthinking about this, she appreciates the beauty of her friends, Asuka and Shirayuki. Thus, their friendship is also strongly bonded.

Okay, no more blabbering. Let’s get straight into the summary-

The story starts with MC being selected as a protege by Kasumi.

Viewpoint of MC- he doesn’t listen to her at all.

The reason why he took her as a student in cardiovascular surgery? That’s because with the developing period, technology is advancing and Kasumi wanted someone to take the department after him. Also, there was shortage of students. More, he was impressed by her high reviews in internship.

Of course, after some reluctance by her, he transfers her to the Orthopedic unit. But, after getting to know that her favorite doctor is moving on to research, she had no choice but to return back to EICU.

The guys celebrate her joining in the Pen. 

 Kasumi and MC were just about to return to the hospital, when they see a building engulfed in flames on the road.

MC is haunted by her previous memories, where a patient commits suicide by burning himself after being saved by the doctors. Meanwhile, both of them rush to the spot for treatment. 

They come back after saving a life, and MC makes Kasumi to talk to him.

Kasumi gives her support by asking her to move forward and leave her painful memories behind. All these facts, and a embrace from him make her decide to study heart.

The following morning, the dark prince assigns her more work (following the CG). Thankfully, Asuka and Shirayuki are there for support.

To gain more experience, Kasumi sends her off to Thailand.

There, she meets Theo, Kasumi’s acquaintance, and starts learning about several cases. Meanwhile, our prince also accompanies her afterwards. (I knew it...)

MC discovers a book of him which is a book of flowers. (This has major importance afterwards, so remember this.) 

Kasumi comes back and MC stays further for two weeks for gaining knowledge.

After coming back, they successfully, perform a CABG (Coronary artery Bypass Surgery). In the night, she gets a text from Kaisei, her friend during the internship. Following Sat., she meets him and his family. (and also Kasumi and Matsunaga... talk of a pure coincidence).

The next day, they have an emergency, and surprisingly, it’s Kaisei and Sora, his son. In spite of desperate efforts, Sora couldn’t be saved. This breaks MC. She couldn’t gather courage to tell that to her friend. Kasumi goes in her stead. The next day, the same scene replays in her mind and she couldn’t perform surgery. 

At last, not able to get control of her emotions, she decides to quit cardiovascular surgery.

She again goes for Ortho. But, things don’t go smooth. A patient, whom MC treated recently, collapses due to heart attack. After being turned down by the cardiovascular department, she had no choice left but to contact Kasumi.

Even if it was his day off, he agrees to come... (And the bgm when he says her not to worry... T_T)

They perform the operation successfully.

Later that night, Kaisei tells her about the frequent visits by Kasumi and how he was shaking when he declared Sora’s death to him.

Along with some push by her favorite doctor the next day, she gets determined again to return to the EICU.

Later, Kasumi invites her to watch the Belt of Venus.

Things get sorted out gradually. With more energy to do work, they decide to have a study session at Kasumi’s house. (Believe me, the before banter was hilarious! @miss-alien-pixel​ has posted it, so feel free to drop by for reference).

The next day, Dr. Neil comes back from England. With many more operations coming up, they all become busy. A case from Mrs. Kitahama also comes, where her family was reluctant for the operation, but both MC and Kasumi agree to the old lady’s wish, and perform the surgery.

 Some days later, while MC was talking to Neil, he suddenly collapses. It was only an attack, but it confirmed aortic stenosis, for which, a surgery was required.

With pressure intensifying, MC does her best to support him. She goes home with Kyogoku that day, and finds out about his late brother, the person whom Kasumi held dear to. (Please go through that part, it has so much things about him there...) 

Things get hectic later on, and there’s the part where MC has a talk with Matsunaga. (the part which was in the intro). There’s so much why Kasumi became like this. If he loved someone, he would do whatever it means to cover for them. And he let all the blame on himself, alone. 

Get ready now, a bombshell is about to drop. Dr. Kurimata returns to the hospital (who had a grudge against Kasumi for who knows how long, just because he took the surgery of Prime Minister’s wife off him. But he did that for building up Ped dept. in the hospital.)

Meanwhile, Mrs. Kitahama catches pneumonia, and after long efforts by both MC and Kasumi, she gets to have a talk with her son before passing away). Kasumi offers MC to go home to mentally recover, but she stays with him. Bad talks about him increase day by day. MC is not able to withstand that, and covers his ears, leaving him surprised. She tells her not to listen to that anymore. Hearing that, Kasumi comes closer, closer aand.... he falls asleep over her as he had fever. (cue the CG)

Bad timing, Kyogoku comes over at the same time. (and we know the volcano is about to burst now...) 

But, as if it was an illusion, Kasumi comes back to ICU after some rest. And Dr. Tsuchiya invites her out. But our dark prince saves her, saying he has plans with her later. (Pbbfft..)

Okay, so it was viewing Belt of Venus... yay!

But, an accident occurs. A speeding truck was just about to hit MC, but she gets shielded by Kasumi. Although on asking, he confirmed no injuries, but something major had occurred, to his hand. 

 As a result, he is not able to even hold a scalpel, let alone surgery. It occurs for almost 15 days. For that, he even hands over the surgery he had been working so long to Dr. Kurimata.

He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, and the other surgeries go on smoothly. He returns to the OR some days after.

MC talks with Neil about Kasumi’s study under him. 

In the meantime, Dr. Kurimata comes by and says that he is overtaking Neil’s surgery. (Speak of the devil now... Grrr)

She and Kyogoku find time to talk to Kurimata and find out the reason why all that was happening. 

And I just can’t process, it’s not Kasumi’s fault at all. Why was that doctor pestering like he was the reason!

He even says that he is using MC to get him kicked out of the case. (Enough!!) And yet, this guy was there, protecting her like anything...

This turns into an argument between Kyogoku and Kasumi. And later, MC also agrees with the former to prioritize himself first, and not love her anymore. (It was a punch to the heart, but that’s what needed to be done at that point).

she runs to the rooftop, and her tears couldn’t stop. After some time, (a huge misunderstanding is going to be here now...) Dr. Tsuchiya comes. They talk for a while about how she was about to be transferred to the cardiovascular department if something occurs.

For Kasumi’s sake, she leaves the EICU and gets under the supervision of Dr. Kurimata.

Again the rooftop. Morning. Dr. Tsuchiya and MC. (Misunderstanding is just about to occur!!)

MC probably is dizzy and was about to fall when Tsuchiya catches him. And he doesn’t let go. He confesses there. Aaand...... Kasumi arrives at that time. (GOSH! NO!)

Seeing the position, he turns on his heel and goes. 

MC at this point has confirmed already that she loves Kasumi, and she couldn’t do anything that could hurt him.

Even after so many awkward moments, I absolutely love how Kasumi is normal with her every time in the talk... 

He tells that he is going to attend a symposium in England. (Doesn’t it sound fishy...?)

Before leaving, he visits Neil during night, praying to stay with him. MC doesn’t interrupt and leaves quietly.

With Kasumi now not there, MC takes the responsibility of Neil’s surgery. It is a success. They further talk about Kasumi after some days. Neil unveils that the flower book was an artwork by Kasumi’s mother. 

The flower snowdrop has a great importance here. This flower is the symbol of hope, but whoever have it, like his mother and Mitsuharu, instead of getting better, left him. And he had come to believe that this flower had an omen of death. That his love caused them to suffer more and die. (That flashback... I am unable to stop my tears even now as I am typing...)

As this dawns on MC, she waits for him eagerly to come back, so that she could sort out everything that happened. But he never returns.

MC sets out to bring him back. After a long search, she finds him in the same park that he had mentioned earlier, talking to a flower... (ugh...)

He is normal, but a little cold this time. MC hugs him from behind and says how worried everyone was. But he just asks to let go of him. (I really thought that he was hurt to such an extent that he decided to leave...)

MC confesses there, and let go of him, when he turns around, and with a pathetic look on his face says,

(That face. Oh my God.)

Cue the third CG. MC hugs him back and comforts him.

After they come back to Japan, things go on as normal. Until one day, Neil requires an immediate surgery due to getting hit on the chest.

All the doctors, join in for the operation. Kurimata lashes out at Kasumi for the death of Mitsuharu. 

MC steps in forward, and says that Kasumi will not let Neil die. They all conduct a successful operation.

The EICU guys gather during the night at Pen to celebrate the returning of Kasumi and MC. 

Kasumi suddenly pulls MC somewhere. And it’s for watching the Belt of Venus. They share a sweet moment there, where Kasumi confesses, asks her to stay with him as she was his only hope, and the story ends, WITH ME CRYING LIKE CRAZY.

(Sweeter than honey, sugar...)

Final Thoughts:

This character!!! God! I am in cloud nine now!!! He went to that extent to protect MC. He was unable to share his hidden feelings with anyone, and now, he could do that. I became very happy when he hugged MC, crying. It symbolized that he was already relying on her, trusting her. Both are genius doctors, both save lives, and both helped each other at times. Along with that, the other doctors’ support was so precious. Their little banters, feeding time, sweet lines Kasumi says and so on, every moment was perfect. The writers did a fantastic job over this one. Overall, a 1000% recommendation! 

If you have reached upto here, first of all, thank you so much for going through my blabbering, and I couldn’t help that. As my hands were unable to stop thinking about this beautiful masterpiece. This will remain my no.1 romance story, no. 1 otome game with my most favorite male and female protagonist!

Thanks for reading! Have a productive week ahead!

Bonus: I just had this in my mind... 

Yui: Uh... What is it, Dr. Kasumi?

Yui: You could expect that after my constant gluing to this article for a while now... Well, did I do a good job? 

Yui: (...how come his smiles are so pure?)

Yui: ...Guardian angel, I did mistakes right? That’s why you are laughing till now... :(

Yui: ! ( I am so happy!)

Yui: Let’s hope people also like it, okay? after all, I poured my heart into it!

Kasumi: mm-hmm.

~Lys

[puddygeeks]

Dusk Till Dawn - Dragon Age Inquisition - Cullen/Inquisitor

Masterlist

Rating: Suitable for all

A/N: This is actually my first ever piece of writing from the perspective of an existing character, especially a male so cut me some slack whilst I experiment with this new venture. I also do not tend to write in the 3rd person, so this piece has been a learning curve for me. However, I felt hugely inspired to write a fluffy piece about my fluffy boy, so enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to see more DA based content from me in future.

Summary: Commander Cullen struggles to maintain a professional, working relationship with the Inquisition’s fearless leader. As the realisation dawns on him that his thoughts linger on her, he begins to question whether the feeling is mutual.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Lavellan

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Perhaps some mild spoilers?

Standing across the war table, hand placed comfortably on the hilt of his sword, Commander Cullen focused on remaining professional. 

Their fearless leader assigned missions and plotted political manoeuvres that would shape the very fabric of all the Kingdoms in Thedas. Despite being plucked from relative obscurity, she rose to this responsibility as if made for it and led the rapidly growing Inquisition with grace and wisdom. 

Without warning, her large, almond shaped eyes met his and he felt his very spirit stir at the subtle connection between them. Buried in the deep hue of her eyes, he could always sense some hidden power that was disguised by her petite frame and seemingly harmless appearance. 

He felt himself fidget on the spot, an involuntary movement that had escaped his carefully controlled facade and he noticed a slight smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. 

There was a hint of playfulness in the way that she viewed him, he thought, before she swept from the chamber, leaving it notably colder by her absence. Surely he must have been mistaken. She was an icon, a force of nature in the crumbling world and would never view him as anything more than her lieutenant.

“My, my. Are you blushing, Commander?” 

Leliana’s sickly sweet voice drifted from his side, tainting the drafty space with her sly implications. 

It was not the first time that suggestions of this nature had been made about him, but each time caused him to bristle with embarrassment in a manner that was entirely more revealing than intended. He made a sound that almost resembled a scoff at the absurdity of her statement, but it strangely combined with an awkward splutter that filled the bard’s usually pale face with a smug satisfaction. 

“I do believe you may be correct, Leliana. Our dearest Commander certainly does seem rather flustered. Why, I could not possibly suggest a cause for such a reaction.” Josephine taunted, her words coated in a barely concealed enthusiasm as she studied him over the top of her papers. 

Cullen cleared his throat in a joyless bid to regain some composure, as his colleagues gazed past him at each other with mischief gleaming in their eyes.

“Surely you both have other matters to attend to? Nobles to pamper, or spies to train?” He countered, a poignant lack of authority in his voice, as the women crossed their arms and met his suggestions with a blatant disdain.

The Inquisitor inspired courage and determination in the recruits, each viewing her as a symbol of hope and light in the darkness. For Cullen, however, she was a constant distraction and a trigger for his most regretful, tense behaviours. 

As time passed, he found that he was able to recognise traits within her that others were blind to. He was stunned by the depth of her kindness towards him. Regardless of the shame that he felt when presenting his issues with addiction for her judgement, he was always met with understanding and compassion. These were new experiences for Cullen and the emotions that they provoked in him were completely unexplored territory.

On the battlements of Skyhold, he embarked on his regular stroll to examine and assess their sustainability, when an unfamiliar sight caused him to pause in his tracks. Standing by the edge, staring out into the mountains with an intense expression was the Inquisitor, clearly deeply lost in thought. 

She didn’t seem to notice Cullen’s arrival, as her gloved hands gripped onto the stone wall and he recognised that the usual strength that radiated from her was absent. In what she believed to be a solitary moment, her defences were lowered and she had allowed herself an opportunity to be vulnerable. 

Cullen felt awkward witnessing this, feeling the familiar sensation of invading upon a sacred space as he’d often experienced throughout his youth in the Chantry.

“Are you going to stand and stare all day, or would you prefer to join me, Commander?” 

His stomach churned as her words cut through the tense silence and she turned to glance at him over her shoulder with a gentle smile. He blanched at her casual offer, feeling pressure compressing his chest and she returned to her pondering, blissfully unaware of the nerves that her presence summoned in him.

“I apologise, my lady. It was not my intention to intrude, nor to stare.” He managed to force the words out through the block in his throat, but as they left his mouth, he acknowledged the deeply ingrained formality in the way that he addressed her. She smiled fondly at nothing in particular. 

There was a stifling atmosphere as he realised that there was not another soul in sight and inwardly, he scolded himself for not recognising the absence of guards earlier. He knew that they had likely already shifted their positions out of respect, to allow her a moment of peace and he felt embarrassed at his perceived social blunder.

“You’re not intruding. You don’t need to tiptoe around me, you know. I don’t bite.” She commented idly and Cullen tightened his grip on his sword in stress. 

The instances of flirtatious remarks were mounting, an overpowering suggestion in his already cluttered mind and each new addition increased his difficulty in denying their presence. They were an ever present force, haunting him at all hours of the day with their desire to be acknowledged. He pushed it away, desperately pleading with his heart to allow him to remain focused and appropriate. The Inquisitor regarded him with an amused disbelief, as he remained at his cautious distance.

“Do you ever simply stop patrolling, or working, and allow yourself a few moments of peace? Our surroundings are idyllic. It’s wasteful not to appreciate them.” She urged, gesturing for him to join her and, unable to deny her request for a second time, he reluctantly marched over to her side with his legs feeling as heavy as led.

The view from the battlements was breath-taking, but it was difficult to fully realise it’s wonder beside the simple splendour of her beauty. She sighed wistfully, the pleasant sound causing a flutter in his stomach and he relished the circumstances that allowed him to witness her in a more relaxed state than he’d ever been entrusted with in the past. 

Surrounded by snowy mountains and without the usual bustle of demands pressing against them, the silence was no longer tense and Cullen allowed his shoulders to gradually lower into a comfortable slouch.

“We filled this empty shell with purpose and belief.” She began, breaking the silence in a sour manner. 

“The halls are bustling with people determined to bring change to our world and the courtyard has become a home to the faithful. Undeterred by all theories to the contrary, we’ve proven it possible to unite mages and templars against a common enemy, under a single, inclusive banner that fights for the freedom of all.” She detailed, as she listed achievements that should have filled her voice with pride, but instead the words rang hollow and her tone remained lacklustre. 

Cullen was unnerved by her raw, unenthusiastic demeanour that existed in stark contrast to the invigorating personality that she displayed in the company of her comrades. 

“And yet, at the head of this mighty cause is a single elf. Inquisitor Lavellan. Despite all of the titles, followers and respect, I am still merely a Dalish with a strange light imbued in my palm. My value is awarded as a result of missing memories that humans have interpreted as a symbol of divine intervention. Tell me, Commander Cullen, what certainty can you possess that I am worthy of such duty?” Lavellan turned to face him, her eyes alight with a storm of emotions that blazed from the inside and he was lost under the intensity of her doubt.

Words failed him as he floundered in search of an answer that could provide her with the peace that she so desperately desired. 

In his heart, he knew that his belief in her was greater than any other within this fortress, or indeed all Thedas itself. He knew that if he allowed himself to be honest, he could list all of the admirable qualities that he had long admired about the awe-worthy being before him. 

Regretfully, his terror of unveiling the depth of his devotion prevented him from granting her with honesty. Instead, he beheld her with a barely concealed state of adoration and she sighed in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I’ve posed a question that you couldn’t possibly answer. I suppose I should know better than to burden others with my own insecurities.” She excused, turning her face from him with an unsatisfied void in her eyes that would remain with him for as long as he lived. 

The cool, crisp air tore through the gaps in their defences, carrying the loose sections of her silver hair out behind her like wings and only exaggerated her appearance to him as some kind of ethereal being. 

As his gaze explored her features, he noticed that her nose and cheeks glowed in a delicate shade of pink that spread to the tips of her gracefully pointed ears and he wondered how long she had been standing here, allowing her exposed skin to grow cold. He ached to lighten her burden, to remove the knot that formed between her brows as she battled the responsibilities that threatened to crush her beneath their weight and against his better judgement, his answer began to flow freely from his lips.

“In all of my years as a templar, I have followed leaders of many different titles. Each of them possessed their own approach, their own qualities that influenced their choices and shaped their time in power.” He recounted, uncertain of the confessions that might escape his lips as he spoke without restraint.

“Never have I known any other to rise from the ashes as you have, nor for the people to elect them with such fervent belief. They follow you with unshakable faith, as do I, not because of your origins, your race or your rumoured holiness. They follow because of your decisions, because you lead with a grace and wisdom that comes from deep within and is unique to your formidable soul.” 

“You are the Inquisitor not because of the anchor that you wield, but because there is no other who could fulfil this duty as you have. You are indisputably, unfathomably, exceptionally more than ‘merely a Dalish’, Lady Lavellen.” He spoke with conviction and with every shred of reasoning, he observed her becoming increasingly humbled by his confession. 

Of course, Cullen knew her name, but he wouldn’t dare to address her by it, believing that it disrespected her journey and consequent struggles to earn the title which she now held. Her eyes grew wide and it was clear that she was shocked by the passion of his words, whilst he waited in a terror ridden state, fearing that he had absolutely revealed too much.

“It is incomprehensible to me that you are capable of such earnest insight into others, whilst believing yourself to be scarcely more than a failed ex-templar.” She surveyed him with a sympathetic, yet frustrated expression and as often would occur in her company, Cullen found himself lost for words. 

When under her gaze, he felt unworthy of the praise that she often bestowed upon him and could not fathom her unwavering faith in him. Even when he had suggested that Cassandra replace him, Lavellan refused to allow him to relinquish his position and insisted that he could defeat his demons to abstain from the use of lyrium once and for all. There was no doubt in his mind that she made him a better person, but in spite of all his improvement, he still could not even begin to imagine himself as deserving of her fondness.

Lavellan turned from the wall to face him fully, closing the distance between them until she was nearer than he’d ever had cause to be. In such proximity, he could smell the natural scent of flowers and herbs on her skin, admired the sun that glinted in her eyes and his face flushed with a heat that exposed his exhilaration. 

For longer than he could ever truly admit, he had laid awake at night, imagining what a privilege it would be to touch her, but he would never be so bold as to attempt such a sin. Involuntarily, he gulped as she pouted her plump lips thoughtfully and his heart pounded with such intensity that he felt concerned that it could cease to function at any given moment. 

She leaned forward at a painfully gradual pace and had to shift her balance onto her toes in order to reach him. With ice tinted lips, she placed a single delicate kiss on his cheek, contrasting sharply with the burning of his skin. 

Instead of immediately moving away she lingered there, her breath tickling his neck as her mouth brushed his ear.

“Your faith extinguishes my fear, unlike any other.” She whispered, her words burning into Cullen’s mind like a brand from an iron that could never be compromised. 

All of his senses seemed to be intensified, as he committed every minute detail to memory for fear that this experience may not occur more than once. When she leaned back into his field of vision, her features glowed with fondness and he simply gawped at her in amazement. 

“You put my heart at ease, Cullen. Thank you.” She admitted with a relaxed sigh and without a further word, or any indication that she would explain the meaning behind this statement, she parted from him. 

As Lavellan’s delicate steps echoed down the stone staircase, Cullen remained rooted to the spot, obsessively analysing the conversation and wondering if he’d perhaps misunderstood. Perhaps the mountain of comments in his mind that he’d long considered to be indulgent, self-delusion had accumulated into something more significant than he’d ever dared to imagine.

[sendnotes]

books i read in april.

this is going to be my thing from now on. i'll compile a list of all the books i read in a month and share my thoughts on each one every end of the month.

just so you know, i'm a little forgetful, and i have a tendency to forget names, plots, and other details. i'm hoping that writing these will aid my memory in recalling how i felt about each novel.

you can also find me on goodreads

so, let’s begin, shall we?

101 essays that will change the way you think (wiest, brianna)

self-help book

this book got off to a good start! some of the essays written (or should i say a collection of articles originally published on the thoughtcatalog website) made me think and consider my outlook on life, love, and so on.

the title overstates the case though. when i think of an essay, i picture something more argumentative and philosophical. not to mention that the majority of the ideas in this book are redundant. it made it difficult to get through. nonetheless, i was able to get past it because there were so many fantastic concepts and topics discussed.

overall, it's an interesting & worthwhile read for those who enjoy thinking outside the box.i lost count of how many times this book gave me aha moments. i swear, most of the entries soothed my mind and provided a great pick-me-up when life seemed to be frustrating.

the midnight library (haig, matt)

science fiction, fantasy fiction, psychological fiction

regrets, self-remorse, what ifs, family approval, drugs, dreams, love, passion, hatred, death, afterlife, multiverses, quantum physics, and a plethora of possibilities packed into a 304-page book.

i'll be honest: this book is already on my list of favorites. i'm simply blown away by how well-crafted and diverse the entire story unfolded.

a sci-fi novel with a dash of fantasy and a smidgeon of philosophy. if that's your thing, you should give this book a shot.

the first few pages of the book gave me an impression and led me to surmise it was going to be a cheesy ass chick lit novel that i'd only read and find enjoyable in high school. i was completely off base. it proved to be very mature, full of lessons, but delivered in a fun and entertaining manner— exactly my cup of tea.

it reminded me of a disney pixar film called soul, in which the afterlife is depicted in vivid detail. they differ on so many levels, but they both imagine life after death for people who are unsure of their path, purpose, and passion.

every chapter served a significant concept, so this book is well-deserved of a 5-star rating!

norwegian wood (murakami, haruki)

fiction, romance novel, bildungsroman

as i read the book and neared the end, all i could think about was how this book became one of murakami's most popular and influential works.

murakami offers a sprawling glimpse into the lives of a group of severely damaged youths grappling with the realities of what emptiness entails. take what you will from it.

i know a lot of people like it, which is fine. but please keep in mind that this book hit me square in the gut. it alternated between making me angry, sad, annoyed, and disgusted almost constantly. there isn't much else.

this book should come with a warning: "this is not a good place to start if you're new to murakami's works. this is not a representative of murakami's brilliance."

fist and foremost, the characters in this book are all repulsive.

toru watanabe was a fuckboy and a softboy rolled into one. what could possibly be worse than that? he'd have as many casual sexual partners as he could while also buttering a girl up by appealing to her emotions and displaying a "sensitive" and "vulnerable" side.

this book was made even more depressing by the fact that each female character was needy, weak, dysfunctional, and dependent. since they're all the same, i'm not going to go over each of these female characters one by one. you already get the idea.

reiko ishida, imo, was one of the best rendered sections of the novel. most likely because she had a better grasp on her emotions and goals than the still seeking youths... until, *spoiler alert* she wanted to do it with toru as well. a big disappointment.

to summarize, this book is primarily concerned with two topics: sex and death.

hidden meanings are everywhere, but when you get to the core, that's all that remains.

the four agreements: a practical guide to personal freedom (ruiz, miguel)

self-help book

first agreement ⏤ be impeccable with your word

this essentially means that you should not spew gossip or use words to harm others. because words have tremendous power and can cause significant harm. you are not only negatively affecting others with your hateful and thoughtless words, but you are also hurting yourself. this is something with which i generally agree. how i see it, when people are unhappy with themselves, they turn to others to make themselves feel better. as a result, they gossip about others in order to divert attention away from themselves.

second agreement ⏤don't take anything personally

alright. sure. don't let what others say about you bother you. it has everything to do with them and nothing to do with you. well, i don't entirely agree, but i think it's a fantastic idea in general. however, achieving this goal will be extremely difficult. i believe it would take a lot of practice to reach this level of zen. plus, i honestly believe that other people's opinions still matter because they keep you in check. the best advice is to not be swayed by these opinions, but to consider why they were expressed in the first place. see what you can do to improve yourself from there. sure, it can be difficult to deal with; after all, no one likes being told they're wrong or whatnot. but it's not all bad news because you can sometimes use criticism and judgment to give you a competitive edge. i mean- don't you think hearing someone else's point of view is also an opportunity to learn and progress? ruiz should have stressed that it's not just about "not taking it personally because you know you're not that person," but also about not retaliating with an extreme knee-jerk reaction even if you believe you're being unfairly criticized.

third agreement ⏤ don't make assumptions

this is a real eye-opener for me. i've noticed that whenever i become enraged by someone's words, it's usually due to my tendency to assume. personally, i can't help but make assumptions. i don't know what other people's motivations are, and i can't help but draw conclusions based on the information i have. even if the other person had no intention of causing me harm, it's too late. the thought has become ingrained in my mind, and i never ask for clarification out of pride or fear of appearing overly sensitive.

fourth agreement ⏤ always do your best

this section did not seem particularly useful to me. i mean, aren't we all reminded of this all the time? this section is filled with sloppy writing, in my opinion. as if he badly wanted to finish the book and impulsively thought: "okay, fourth agreement: always do your best. that should suffice. lmao"

overall opinion: the third agreement was my favorite, but the rest were a no-go. don't get me wrong, i appreciated his ideas, but i've heard them all a hundred times before. basically, the book's sole takeaway is that we are all suffering in some way in our daily lives, and we are all dealing with different issues. regardless, we all need to be kinder and gentler to ourselves and others.

the song of achilles (miller, madeline)

romance novel, historical Fiction, war story

i'll keep it short and sweet:

i really wouldn't have had this book any other way. miller's writing is breathtaking, so rich and full of lovely detail. it's incredibly a unique concept to me that authors are rewriting such ancient history and stories to make them lgbt+!

some suggest it's tedious, but i disagree. it isn't slow; rather, it is just right.

'cause at the end of the day, it's not about war, tragedy, or heroes - it's a slow-burning, organic love tale between two young men and their inevitable connection.

it's sad, tender, and painful, but in the best way possible.

circe (miller, madeline)

novel, historical fiction, fantasy fiction

"greek mythology, but with a feminist twist"?! sign me the hell up! this piqued my interest... only to leave me feeling completely let down. seriously now. circe was described as a "badass empowered woman," which was the single most compelling selling point for me, and thus the most wrenching disappointment, i must say.

sure, it demonstrated the value of feminine power, but it also did represent how this power can be a force of good or evil.

not to mention the fact that circe fucked a married man or two in this book- i mean- how is that an ~empowered woman~?

let's be clear right off the bat: madeline miller's follow-up to the song of achilles is epic in scope but not necessarily in execution. to me, this read more like a tedious island tale. regardless of how many five-star reviews this book has received... i just don't think it's well-deserved. don't get me wrong here. miller is a fantastic author with a lush writing! istg- i'm blown away by how beautifully she wrote and carefully chose her words. even the most mundane phrases were written poetically. after-all, it’s greek mythology. but how did she manage to make circe seem so... bland?

[nerdycatastrophe]

Idk did some pixel art and I’m now gonna attach my danganronpa fancharacter biographies because I can :DD (sprite edits, character details and designs are subject to change btw and this very post will be re-blogged everytime I edit something.)

W/ SCARF AND BEANIE

Name and Talent:

Ikani Rinyu, Ultimate Digital/Multimedia Artist

Birth Date and Age:

February 13, 16 years old

Race and Ethnicity:

Polynesian Japanese // Filipino Japanese

Accent:

Japanese, just...japanese.

Blood Type:

A+

Weight and Height:

128 lbs, 5'2 ft

Mental or Physical disorders:

Recovering Pyromaniac (I’m still researching about Inattentive ADHD and if this oc has accurate symptoms) and Peptic Ulcer

Sex, Pronouns and Gender identity:

Biologically Female, Prefer She/Her/Herself & They/Them/Themself or any pronouns & Demi-girl

Sexual and Romantic orientation:

Asexual Biromantic

Religion / Belief:

Agnostic

Other Hobbies:

Cooking, Baking, Making things out of matchsticks and wood and Drawing traditionally.

Likes:

Making digital artworks, playing with match sticks and flowers.        

Loves:

The idea of setting things on fire or being around fire (for emotional reasons and urges) and warmth.      

Dislikes:

Theft-related activity, acidic food and seafood.

Despises:

The idea of water and feeling cold.

Personality type and traits: ISFP

(INTROVERTED;SENSING;FEELER;PERCEIVING)

Personality description:

Ikani is mostly self-aware of reality’s hardships yet tend to keep up an ‘’whatever goes, is what happen and I cannot potentially do anything to change that.’’ carefree, reckless, will only believe when she has seen attitude that pretends to be a healthy optimistic nihilist way of dealing with life but when unmasked turns out to be a faulty uncertain self-hate of pessimism that pretends to be optimistic or a realist way of thinking and solving problems. This can badly affects her creative ability to do any problem solving, thinking outside the box or standing up for herself and the people she loves alone unless she has encountered that situation before or has help from someone with far more experience. She does not rebel that much to authority or dictatorship as she believes rules are rules or the law is the law and whatever unintended consequences that follow or reports of abuse of power are normal and natural but she’s open-minded and adaptable enough to consider changing rules and regulations peacefully if she’s convinced or confident enough. Either way, Whatever happens is whatever happens in the present and she won’t make any effort to neither change or preserve any rules or laws that much. She, most of the time, follows whatever happens in the present world with no consideration for the consequences that would follow because she doesn’t like to think philosophically or overthink.

Habits:

Stimming, flapping hands around, running around in circles when stressed, excited, happy, confused or afraid if she can’t bottle up her emotions, Running away from problems as much as possible (literally and figuratively) and bottling up her feelings. Also tends to get distracted and daydreams a lot yet when it’s her turn to talk about herself she goes a little overboard which can put off people and assume she is selfish. (when it’s just a habit she does)

Character morality alignment:

Lawful Neutral <-> Neutral Good

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 1:

Ikani Rinyu once translated from Japanese to English respectively means ‘’How’’ and ‘’Renew’’ forming the phrase, ‘’How renew.’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 2:

Mess with the letters on Ikani and you’ll get ‘’Ikanai’’ which means ‘’Don’t go’’ referring to her brother, ‘’Ika’’ which means ‘’not exceeding’’, ‘’Kanai’’ which means ‘’Flower’’, ‘’Kani’’ which means ‘’crab’’, ‘’Ikan’’ which means ‘’Fish’’, ‘’Ani’’ which is another term for ‘’brother’’ and ‘’Ni’’ which means ‘’to go’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 3:

Mess with the letters on Rinyu and you’ll get ‘’Rin’’ which means ‘’Cold’’ in Japanese and ‘’Dignified’’ or ‘’Severe’’ in Italian, ‘’Inu’’ which means ‘’Dog’’, and ‘’Rinu’’ which can mean ‘’Freelance of flowers’’ and ‘’Beautiful’’ or ‘’Pretty’’ in Indian.

Zodiac and Planet:

She is an Aquarius and is assigned the planet Uranus based on her zodiac.

Backstory:

Ikani Rinyu was born as a second child to a worker class family (Rinyu family) who mostly had time for her. Many years went by and her parents had to focus on things they deemed far more important in order to sustain a family with regular income. Her family’s income condition worsened when the day before Ikani 7th birthday, She, her brother and her parents were robbed of a lot of yen at gun-point by a gang after they went to the store and bought a digital tablet for her as a gift (because they felt as if they were neglecting Ikani because of work). After the incident happened, Ikani's mother divorced with her husband because it turned out that Ikani's father had connections with the gang that robbed them and never told her about it. Another reason for her parents divorce is that both of her father and mother had an underlying conflict in which both were never really interested in each other and only agreed to marry back when they were friends so that they can decrease their tax and avoid debt and they both felt guilty about divorcing each other because both felt that they were selfish with their underlying mutual motivations for marriage,  they were still saving up money and investing and couldn’t afford to divorce early, and that divorcing will affect their children greatly if they will be honest about it to them at an early age (suprise suprise, bottling up your feelings worsens everything, yourself and everyone around you). This robbery incident went mainstream after the time Ikani’s mother divorced Ikani’s father and her remaining family was secretly interviewed by a group of ''journalists'' and this is how (insert academy name) found and scouted Ikani just so they can replace and -cover up an ultimate's death.- So her mom and the group of journalists made a contract in exchange for financial gain and basically free education for Ikani and her brother and also medical + financial insurance. Ikani started setting things on fire (mostly flowers, sticks and wood) on ‘’accident’’ just to gain attention from her busy mom, brother and everyone else she was close to and was forming a relationship with, in which her ‘’habits’’ slowly spiralled and developed into impulsive Pyromania because she felt that she was never loved enough + with her parents divorce taking a toll on her (her brother tried to help but also didn't know what to do and was busy with their own school). Around this time, she also felt like eating would decrease her family's money greatly so she tried skipped eating snacks at school but not basic meals yet she still developed peptic ulcer. On her 11th birthday, Ikani’s brother finally took a stand and consulted a ‘’reliable’’ therapist/psychiatrist and a dietician (who helped with the insert academy's goals) despite it being expensive and discouraged by her mom. Her therapist/psychiatrist then noted to her parents that Ikani should focus more on expressing her emotions in more artistic and creative ways in order to cope with her bottled up emotions, trauma and urges and using the digital tablet she got at age 7 when everything was still relatively alright should be a good head start. Her dietician also helped her with resolving her peptic ulcer and convinced her that she shouldn't feel bad about eating extra snacks and set out a diet for her to follow. Soon, The academy’s contract money given to her parents was enough to sustain her creative urges as Ikani eventually learned to create moving and still digital artworks including complex 3d and photography by simply using her tablet that had limited features over the years despite her age as she contributed to many famous and iconic company logos, designs, presentations, artworks, animations, movies, edits and videos that are found in the media. Over the years, Ikani secretly wished that the contract would stop as that diverted corporate's financial wants for themselves because of her hidden relations with the academy journalists and she wishes she was never born and regretted that time she was too ''needy'' at age 7 (she shouldn't blame herself though) but never took her own ground against it to her mom as she felt like she was selfish for wanting to do something her mom didn't desire so she ended up ONLY EVER venting her emotions through her work/hobby and sometimes forgot how to express her emotions.

Reasons for acting the way she does during the killing game:

The reason why she doesn’t vent her emotions and only bottles it up during the killing game is because just like in the original Danganronpa series, Monokuma would confiscate your belongings that allowed access to communicating with the outside world (and it just turned out her only venting item was a digital tablet that would probably screw up Monokuma) Also, it’s because the idea of ‘’Survival of the Fittest.’’, ‘’Being weak will kill you.’’ and ‘’No time for crying because it is not yet over’’ is in her head all the time + fear of being impulsive again and accidentally resurfacing her Pyromania and basically rendering her brother’s efforts to help her with her problems useless so yeah she’s guilty of wanting to feel emotions so she eventually becomes numb to the things happening around her.  All of these are her ways of justifying being emotionless, being unintentionally ignorant and coping with loss and grief in a dangerous game that could kill you any moment.

Student percentile, Predictability and chances:

>Gets killed normally: 30%

>Punished and killed for breaking rules OR due to unfair trial misconduct shenanigans because plot: 4.6%

>ATTEMPTED to murder someone: 20%

>Blackened AND escapes:  10.5%

>Blackened BUT executed:  25.5 %

>Killed someone BUT died during or before their murder trial:  9%

>Betrays everyone as the MASTERMIND: 1.5 %

>Betrays everyone as the MOLE // TRAITOR: 5.7 %

>Survives the killing game as an forever evil MOLE // TRAITOR // MASTERMIND in the killing game: 0.8 %

> Survives the killing game as a redeemed MOLE // TRAITOR // MASTERMIND in the killing game: 0.3 %

>Survives the killing game as a normal person in the killing game:  35%

W/ VISION CORRECTING VISORS

        2. W/ VISION CORRECTING READING GLASSES

         3. N/A EYEWEAR

Name and Talent:

Cyl Bol // Cyden Boliver ^ Ultimate Arcade Attendant

Birth Date and Age:

July 9 ^ 15 years old

Race and Ethnicity:

Dutch Japanese

Accent:

Russian mixed with Dutch and Japanese

Blood Type:

B-

Weight and Height:

100 lbs ^ 5'5 ft

Mental or Physical disorders:

Developing schizophrenia symptoms (I’m still researching on this so I’m not sure) and PAPD (Passive-Aggressive Disorder) and has genetic Albinism + Astigmatism.

Sex, Pronouns and Gender identity:

Biologically male, Any pronouns but They/Them/Themself and He/Him/Himself are preferred, Gender-fluid

Sexual and Romantic orientation:

Toric // Quadrisan or Viramoric

Religion / Belief:

Reformed // Progressive Judiasm (yeah, this the correct term-)

Other Hobbies:

Debate, Internet surfing, Meditation, Reading philosophical/theology books, Practicing first-aid methods and crushing herbs.

Likes:

Salt, Bread, Dieting (fasting), Figs, Bread, Wheat and Grains, Krupnik with meat

Loves:

Philosophy, Theology, Basic human rights, Debating, Eating Chopped Liver 

Dislikes:

The taste of pork (im sorry for adding this if it feels a little bit racist but I genuinely hate pork and I wanted to add it to a character that fits it the most without being too ignorant and stereotypical while still making the character that dislikes pork have an actual personality and backstory other than just RELIGION stuff. keep in mind this character hates pork not because it’s ‘’unholy’’, it’s because it tastes horrible for them), Immature // Karen customers, His own talent, Seeds, Human contact, Getting sick and parties/social celebrations.

Despises:

Strict people, Strict rules, Strict regulations, Dense and stubborn optimists, Peer pressure, Being taunted for being weak // frail, The sun’s warmth and sunlight, Going outside, Backstabbers and being manipulated.

Personality type and traits: INTP

(INTROVERTED;INTUITIVE;THINKING;PERCEIVING)

Personality description:

Really really intentionally and maybe unintentionally paranoid, superstitious, ‘’weird’’ passive-aggressive and lonely since it's his way of avoiding unnecessary conversations that could drain out his energy for him to save up on topics he deems far more important (philosophy + theology) and people that could potentially hurt him again unless they specifically ask him or want something from him for a short // limited amount of time and say it extremely extremely politely to the point where he feels pity or someone out-smarts his passive-aggressiveness causing Cyl to do your favor immediately out of embarrassment, anger, frustration or getting flustered. Most of the time, Cyl has a rather nihilistic and pessimistic (but sometimes, realistic and optimistic at times) views and mindsets of life and would rather die rather than following strict regulations // rules. Although he is a passive type of Nihilist and knows there isn’t that much value in life despite searching it (even with religion), He still is sort of a coward and ends up helping other people out of pity, jealousy, admiration or respect and will still be willing to fight for people’s rights things society deems unworthy despite the odds and his diminishing motivation on doing so. Cyl prefers to be individualistic, thoughtful, overthink for hours, alone and free when it comes to him making decisions or going onto places. Although he’s an INTP, He allows his emotions to run wild at times (even if in the process, hurting other people whether he realizes it or not) which allows him to make thoughtfully calculated decisions without having the burden of emotions and mood. Because of his defiance against the norms, He can usually think outside the box and think of solutions quick enough to solve an underlying problem on time in an creative yet messy analytical manner. Also yeah he struggles following rules.

Habits:

Praying a bit too much than usual, Rapidly cleaning visor goggles // reading glasses even when not needed, Limping hands and fingers to relax hand tendons, muscles and bones and tugging at Hanukkah snow cap when embarrassed / flustered.

Character moral alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 1:

Cyl is an abbreviation of ‘’Cylinder’’  which indicates the lens power your doctor is prescribing to correct your astigmatism (and this oc has astigmatism)

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 2:

Bol can be an abbreivation for Broek Op Langedijk (a dutch town), Beacon of light, Bread of Life, Bolivia’s (sounds like Boliver) ISO Country code,  Beginning Of Life and Balls Of Light (paranormal phenominon associated with crop circles) Name Etymology and Shenanigans 3:

Cyden is of English origin and means "To stand strong and be brave together as one" and Cayden is of American origin and means ‘’Fighter’’

Name Etymology and Shenanigans 4:

Bolivar is the name of the South American soldier that had a country (Bolivia) dedicated to him. Oliver is a boy name that means ‘’Descendant Of The Ancestor’’ in English, In latin it means Olive (symbol of peace); peaceful. Olive is a girl’s name meaning ‘’Olive tree’’ and is another symbol of peace.

Zodiac and Planet:

He is a Cancer and is assigned the ‘planet’ moon based on their zodiac.

Backstory:

N/A (ITS ALMOST 2 AM LOL MAYBE TOMORROW)

Student percentile, Predictability and chances:

N/A (ITS ALMOST 2 AM LOL MAYBE TOMORROW)

[bounward]

DAW | 1,623 words - but still not enough [re: everyone]

Dawson… was ready. He (thought) he knew what would come next, and he was prepared for it. Or, rather, as prepared as a man could be, before ultimately facing death.

Then death walked through the doors, alive as ever.

The folklorist stared, his head reeling as he tried to make sense of the situation. Listened, as his peers spoke - voices somehow more real than ever before, when they had been mere ghosts of themselves. Waited, for the questions about his crime, for O'Malley to pull away, for the escape via punishment that… seemed like it would not come. Not yet.

Shaking and miserable, Dawson was not. A man wrestling with his convictions… perhaps that was more apt.

His heart ached, seeing Dola again. Lucita again. Chirin again. Vixen and Chuck again. Basil again. He’d had no way of knowing that they’d be returning, somehow, some way. If he had, would he have held back? Dawson felt the familiar sting of loneliness, of loss - now more than ever, seeing them here, in the flesh. It was right that the people he longed to reach out to most sat furthest from him, out of reach. (Not that they would consider reaching back, at this point.) He watched their emotional reunions, aching for one of his own. Dawson withdraws his hand from O'Malley’s entirely, and places it in his lap.

Well, he’d made his bed. He could lay in it later - for now, answers.

“Ah, I suppose any questions I have can come later, hm?” he asks, green eyes slowly drifting from person to person. “You want to know the how, and I assume Prix’s not going to give us much time for the remainder of our discussion, so… Allow me lay it out plain, then. No point in hiding it, and no time to waste hashing it out.”

After inhaling deeply, he begins speaking, and does not pause for questions or sidelong glances. Dawson keeps his eyes trained to the table in front of him, as if looking anyone else in the eye might cause him to falter.

Even as he spoke, their words flooded his mind.

“This wasn’t as methodically planned as you probably assume. I didn’t sit and stew over wanting to kill [Basil] for weeks, plotting out my plan of attack. You saw the hasty cover-up - death hadn’t been my intention. Not at first.”

“I spoke to Basil a few weeks ago, about… more or less the same topic. The Wardens, whether our association with them might be able to lend itself to some use in understanding the tapes. I’ve been mulling those things over, since I realized they existed. How do they work? Why do they work? What combination of technology and magic allows these artifacts to function, and could we glean some sort of information from them? I’d hoped Basil would be able to assist.”

“… The conversation didn’t go anywhere, and I felt as though he’d been hiding things. Understandably, in hindsight, considering his feelings toward the Wardens - ah, and towards me.” You’re a real fuckin’ dick now. “Both of which I have been oblivious to, it seems. And since I seem to be rather skilled at drawing the ire of my peers around the topic of the tapes, I took it to the living members of my crew.” You cooooooooouldn’t wait until I was cold in the ground before pissing me off again. "Dola and Lucita were gone, but this was something we might be able to do. The three of us talked it over, decided to try and question Basil further. I asked [O'Malley] to stay behind, knowing that I didn’t want to put him into the middle of my own theories - and knowing his closeness to Pan. However, we decided Fievel would tag along, just in case anything did go awry - and to be a second set of ears to hear what Basil might have to say.“

"The plan was to question him, then bring the information back to the rest of the group to discuss and figure out how we’d handle it from there, together." …But you have never listened to me anyway. "Fievel and I went to the theme park to test out his abilities in a larger body of water. If anything went wrong, we wanted to be able to stun Basil - not kill him. You saw the results of those tests - the People Mover was drained of power, the fish in the lagoon had been killed. Not exactly a thorough means of training, but good enough to know how much or how little charge to use in the moment.”

“… I met with Basil that night, in the lobby of the Modern building. We were headed toward the Old Time Bar via the Oasis, and I stopped to discuss things there, where Fievel had hidden himself. I brought the tranquilizer gun with me, tucked into a pocket, just in case. The conversation… didn’t go anywhere, again. Ah, it got a little heated.” Yo-ou gave him no escape, forced him to dig up terrible memories for your own satisfaction, to satisfy your own theory crafting–! “I pushed Basil into the pool, and yelled out to Fievel. I think what happened next is obvious. We quickly retrieved Basil from the water, and restrained him with the bedsheets I’d cut earlier, preparing for an interrogation once he woke up. I’d tossed most of them into a bucket of bleach, not anticipating needing them all… but ended up using them, anyway. I’m not a master of tying knots.”

“Which is clear, since Basil broke free from his restraints upon waking up, after Fievel had already left to recharge. I pulled out the gun, but didn’t shoot. Basil started to use his powers - light radiated from his hands. It was bright, I dropped the gun, I, ah… I panicked.”

Beneath the table, Dawson knits his hands together. He wouldn’t force O'Malley to comfort him through this. He could hardly look to Smee for support, now that Dola was back with them. He’d put enough on Tanya, after killing her close friend. His quadmates couldn’t be expected to carry him anymore.

But still, the image of the light… It seared through his memory, like a seven-year-old boy, back in the forest amidst a thunderstorm. His heart beat faster with every clap of thunder, until he saw that flash of light, and everything went dark. His mind turned to static, and his body moved on its own. Dawson squeezed his hands together, knuckles draining white.

“I rushed Basil. He was still weak from the shock. I thought his reaction to my questions was proof enough that he might have had something to do with the tapes as a whole. The traitors. And… I figured that the only way our group would be able to make an actionable decision would be here, in the boardroom, with a vote.” If you don’t want what happened to [Chuck] to happen to Fievel or Dawson, vote for me. "Even if it meant facing my own death in exchange for murdering an old colleague, I… wanted to bring us back here.“

Finally, he pauses for longer than a breath between paragraphs. It’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot to put out. There’s no catharsis, no release of the weight from his shoulders. They droop, as if holding more weight - as if each explanation only adds to it, rather than allowing it to lift.

”… I’m not going to re-hash all the details about trying to cover it up. Most of you saw it, anyway. And I’m not going to excuse my actions, either. Ah… What was it I said, last time we were here? ‘Every single one of us has something that can justify the crimes we might commit, or the crimes we might overlook.’“ You didn’t get it none. Guess, guess you do now. ”I suppose in that moment, I felt that the ends justified the means, despite being unforgiveable.“

His eyes pan to Knuckles, next to him. A gaze that reads, I understand now, affixed to an expression that laments, I don’t want to.

After a few moments of this, he turns his face to meet the eyes of those who had asked him questions. To Campion, to Chirin, to Dola - a pause, however brief - to Tanya, to Chuck, to… as many faces as he could, before returning back to the table.

"I think the connection of the case to the traitors is clear, isn’t it? I wanted to question [Basil] based on my assumption that he could have done something to help explain - or at least more effectively look into - the tapes, and how they worked, perhaps lead us to a connection to the traitors. I killed him because of his reaction; I assumed he was one of the traitors, and wanted to bring us back here to discuss and vote on it. If I was going to kill anyone, at least it would have been…”

He trails off. Easier? Better? One fewer person to have to kill later?

“… one out of the two traitors. I know that so many of us were content to living here for however much longer - but why would we trust Prix on her word, or lack thereof? And none of us knew that we’d be reunited at all, let alone so soon.”

“I would not have done what I did, had I known everyone would return. That we might have been able to get this chance without the need for such drastic action. But I can’t undo my mistakes, so ah, perhaps all I can say now is…”

The regret permeates throughout his body as Dawson finally allows his eyes to settle on Basil.

“Welcome back.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{1}

Title: Going Through Motions {1}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot

Word Count: 1.9K

  Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

  Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosley Proofread/edited**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean?”

  “What’s not to understand? The Avengers are being put back together,” Tony exclaimed with a clap of his hands. Korral stood there gaping at him convinced he’d lost his mind. The Avengers had been broken up for the last near seven years. They were all sprawled out across the world doing god knows what. The CIA, FBI, SHIELD and every government entity had an order that if any of them were seen they were to be immediately apprehended if safe to do so and if they put up a fight they were to shoot to kill. That was the order for all except Steve; he was shoot to kill on sight.

   “Tony, I don’t understand.” He continued to walk, not caring that you’d stopped in the hall trying to make sense of his words. You scurried to catch up and made it just in time before the elevator doors closed. You pressed your back to the glass wall and took a deep breath.

   “Explain it to me, please.” Tony took a deep breath and paused his tapping into the tablet he held.

  “Right now, we are going down to the conference room that I hate the most to sit with the powers that be who think they’re in charge of the world’s defenses--,” he said normally before his voice dropped to a less than discreet whisper. “They’re really not,” he finished before pointing a self-gratifying finger to himself. Shaking your head, you stifled a scoff; this was nothing new, this was Tony. You didn’t mind, after working with him for the last ten years you’d gotten to know him pretty well.

   “What are we meeting with them for? I thought we hated them after the fallout.” Tony nodded and continued tapping into the tablet.

 “Oh, we do still hate them, but keep your enemies closer, remember.” You nodded because it was rule number two around here. “So. we’re going to meet them so they can officially gloss over their shortcomings in the last year to generously drop the charges against our friends,” he explained. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor, and Tony walked off, you remained still trying to catch up. You felt like you were in an alternate universe. “When did all this happen?” Again, you looked beside you and Tony wasn’t there, he was halfway across the lobby. You ran to him.

   “Last night,” he said before he stopped and looked at you. “Are you okay?” He had to be kidding. You currently had whiplash. You had no idea any of this was in the works. “Korral!” Tony shouted your name and snapped his fingers before your face. You focused on him. “Yes, I’m fine.” He studied you, and you wondered if he was using his high-tech glasses to scan you. “I’m fine. I just needed a minute to catch up. What do you need from me?” Tony started walking again, and it was then you saw the obscene amount of security agents standing around.

   “I’ve sent it to your tablet. I also want you to tally how many times one or more of them says this phrase sequence “our decision.” I’m placing my bet now that it’ll be more than twenty. What’s yours?” As you looked around you and accessed those around you, you tried to get control over your nervousness. If this order actually went through it meant a lot. It meant a hell of a lot. Shaking your head, you straightened your back and pasted a calm, detached expression to your face. “Twenty is lowballing it, go big or go home, I call every other sentence.” Tony smiled and nodded. “I like the way you think Evans.”

   The two of you walked toward the conference room, three secret agents stopped you and scanned your bodies with a wand no doubt checking for weapons. They were right to check. The wand beeped ferociously at Tony’s chest, and he gave them a “are you serious” look before they allowed him through the conference doors. When it was your turn, they looked over you but didn’t scan. They just nodded their head to let you through. They clearly didn’t think you were a threat. When you walked into the room there were seven powerful-looking men and dozens of others standing around. You quickly surveyed the room and made a note of everyone. Most were familiar faces, but there were a few that were all new to you.

   As you and Tony took your seats you scanned the file Tony sent you and smiled at the top disclaimer. “Don’t trust any of them, especially the one with the brown suit and purple tie, who wears purple and brown?” Pinching your lips, you tried to keep a professional exterior. The Secretary of State began his spiel; he looked less than happy to be saying the words. No doubt he hated to admit that the world needed the Avengers. Since their disbandment and the kill orders, chaos was everywhere, and threats came from left and right. They were stretched thin and quickly came to regret their decisions, but like the government, they also hated to admit their wrongdoings and make a change. That meant they would have to be right here in front of Tony and Tony was a less than gracious winner.

   Just as expected, every sentence showcased that they had come to this decision with no outside influence. Every time he said it Tony sent a message to you keeping tally of it. By the time the Secretary of State finished, it had easily been thirty minutes.  “So, let me get this right; you’re here with your tail between your legs admitting that you made a mistake, a very horrible mistake and now it’s your decision to rectify it? is that right?” You smirked and pinched your lips again. Of course Secretary of State Ross didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded his head to one of the many heads in the room. From the back, a young woman gathered a few folders and placed them in front of all who sat at the conference table. You opened the folder and saw images of the people you’d worked with for years and who you hadn’t physically seen in too long.

   “Glad to see you’re still the same Stark.” Tony looked in the folder. “I don’t know who you want me to turn into Ross; I can only be me.” You slowly flipped through the images, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha and him. You stopped at his picture and almost audibly gasped, you didn’t expect he would be part of this deal. You thought it would be just the others. Your heart began pounding rapidly, and you slowly went over every detail of his face, every minuscule wrinkle, each bushy eyebrow, his defined nose, and equally defined jaw and his lips. Lips you’d surprisingly fell in love with. He was gorgeous. It had been seven years since you’d seen him, there was no indicating he looked this way anymore. He could have aged, wrinkled, something.

   “Do you want this to happen or not?” You brought your attention back to him those in the room and glanced at Tony who took a deep breath. “Continue.” Secretary Ross went over the details of the deal which primarily spoke of each of them having to remain on the straight and narrow and follow the rules that had been in place before everything went to shit. You knew they wouldn’t support the accords, that was never going to happen. A message came in from Tony, and he knew it too, but with Tony, he knew how to keep his hand hidden to make it seem he was playing ball. “You’re responsible Stark. This will blow back on you if this goes south—again,” Secretary Ross finished.

   Tony held up two of his fingers; “On my honor as a boy scout Ross. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He did the actual action for emphasis. “We’ll see. Let’s get this over with.” Tony took out his pen and signed his name then slid the folder to the center of the table. Across the table, Secretary Ross did the same, but unlike Tony, he didn’t look so confident, it was as if he expected this to go bad. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect. Another ten minutes passed, and the meeting finished. You excused yourself to the ladies’ room and stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long trying to get a grasp on everything that had just happened.

   When you walked into Tony’s office thirty minutes later, he stood and waved you over. You hurried to his desk and listened to the tail end of his conversation. “It’s only a matter of time now. I expect the announcement tonight or tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.” He turned to you and smiled. “Ready for things to get a lot louder around here?” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious. You nodded and did your best to smile. “Tony, does this include—him?” As if for the first time realizing your struggle Tony’s expression softened. “Steve. Uh, yeah. His terms are slightly different though; because of his role in breaking the others out and aiding and abetting Bucky they think his morals are compromised.” You nodded. You weren’t surprised by his actions once you’d learned of them. You and Steve had several long conversations where he told you all about his friendship with Bucky and his regrets over the years. Steve was as loyal as they came. That was one of the traits that solidified the decision to make him Captain America back in the day. He was goodness.

   “So, what are his terms?” Tony took a bottle of water out the mini-fridge and drank from it. “Well, they definitely want him to sign the accords and sort of agree to be surveilled,” he rushed out. You snorted. “That’s not happening Tony.” He nodded. “Oh, I know, but they don’t know that.”

   You were used to the ride the slope of right and wrong with Tony. “Why would you go out on a limb knowing he wouldn’t agree, especially after everything that happened between you?” Tony sighed and looked out over the setting sun of the New York skyline. “Seven years is a long time Korral. I’ve had a lot of time to think and see things differently and from other perspectives. You can thank Pepper for that.” You smiled; Pepper did make him more human. It was sweet. “I understand. Plus, he’s Captain America, he’s Earth’s best defender.” You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Tony nodded his head and walked away. “Laugh it up. I know you’re laughing to hide the fact that you’re freaking out about this especially given the nature of your relationship back then and the state of your relationship with Marc currently.”

  Yeah, he called you out—extra loud. “Wow.” Tony smiled again and sat behind his desk. “If those are the terms, he won’t come back Tony. There is no way in hell he would come back on the grid to be controlled. You know Steve.” He sat there studying you. “Is it that you truly believe he won’t come back or you’re afraid he will?” You shook your head, rolled your eyes and looked out the window. “He won’t come back,” you finalized before you turned and walked to the door. “Good night.” There would be nothing in the world that would drag him back into the light especially to give up his freedom.

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

[one-piece-dumpster-fire]

QueennNnn!! Your art isn't awful! Its friggin beautiful and you can't change my mind!!💖💖💖💖💖 Also, while I'm sending an ask, can I have some more information about your adorable babies👀👀 (I wanna make more drawings for them uwu💕)

Ahhhh alrighty alrighty, I’m not gonna argue with you sweetie hehe😂💖! I’m just,,, super happy that you all like my art so much huhuhu, and thank you for always being such a dear to me💖💖💖!!!

AahhaAAAAh, about the babies—-🙈🌠💖! I’d be absolutely honored and delighted to tell you more about them!!! I don’t know if I should put this under a cut or not though because…. phew…. it’s gonna be a bit long xD (and I also don’t have any good drawings left of them and unfortunately need to use some terrible old sketches because??? I don’t draw our children often enough??? Pffff that still needs to change💕)

here’s a warning for me being indulgent and swooning over my Crachelle babies up ahead xD!

——–

Trifle

She’s a true Daddy’s girl through and through xD Her hair color is actually a very light pink but with slightly purple undertones, basically a mix of Angel’s and Big Mom’s hair- aaaand she got my bright, blue eyes😂 Trifle is a very open-hearted and kind girl, although she tends to be a bit too dreamy sometimes! Her father is her ultimate hero and she wants to be just like him while growing up. Many of her clothes are actually mirroring that as well, and she even started to put a special kind of fire-crackers into her hair to further showcase her close bound with Papa Cracker lol. Unfortunately though… she never really knows what she actually wants and is more than once lost in her own little fantasies, which can occasionally come to bite her. Flambe is Trifle’s favorite aunt and often helps her when she’s dealing with yet another girl crush again huhu xDD

Fun fact: when she was little she used to plant ‘magic seeds’ (rocks) in our garden, hoping that they would grow to give her a little sister someday. (yes, Cracker and I really regret watching Thumbelina with her)

Pretzel

Although Trifle tries to imitate her Papa as good as possible, it’s actually Pretzel who is stuck with resembling Cracker the most- but only appearance-wise! As you can probably tell, he’s the spitting image of his dad… minus the lack of eyebrows and some other little details haha xD Pretzel is a bit of a shy boy who tends to overthink certain things and often has some difficulties with making new friends- but once someone spends a bit of time with him, he truly thaws up to be one of the coolest people around! His relationship with his father is rather strained, mostly because Cracker has many high expectations for his oldest son, and if he doesn’t live up to them…. well, things can get a bit problematic xd Pretzel also got a hearing problem and communication is a little difficult, but he’s always doing his best to let people know about how he feels! His favorite uncle is Oven, who often helps him with training and getting stronger.

Fun fact: Pretzel actually dislikes his name. A lot. The fact that he was basically named after a sword constantly haunts him, even if he tries not to think about it lol

Eclair/Anne

Nothing about her ever stays the same for long, since Eclair is a true free spirit! Her natural hair color is a rich brown with some lilac undertones, but it can be rather hard to tell because she loves to change it on an almost monthly basis! Out of all the siblings she’s probably the smartest and most cunning, and always knows just how to get her way xD Eclair often pretends to be naive or even somewhat stupid so people will leave her alone or to avoid certain duties lol, but depending on the situation she might actually show her true colors to help those that are dear to her! She prefers to do things that bring her fun or pleasure rather than strict chores, and one of her favorite hobbies is painting pictures to express herself! She’s the anti-social bee of the family, although her parents often nudge her to be a bit more open and find friends xD Her favorite uncle is Mont-d’Or and she also enjoys spending time with Amande, since they can both understand her more introvert behaviour and love for artistic outlets!

Fun fact: she’s actually a bit short-sighed and supposed to wear glasses, but she never does! And if her parents were to ask her about it, she’ll simply respond and say that she ‘lost’ them again lol

Dodger

Did you ever ask yourself… ‘what if there was a kid that’s basically just like Cracker, only 100 times worse?’ no? Well too bad, because that is exactly what you’re getting with Dodger! Oh boy, where to start… as far as appearance goes, he’s a pretty solid mix of his parents- his hair is similar to mine (only more wild and spikey) while his eyes and face resemble his father. But his personality is just…. too much to handle for the both of us! Dodger is truly the definition of ‘troublemaker’, as there is not a single day where he doesn’t get caught up in some drama! He’s an unstoppable bundle of energy and keeps his good traits hidden for most of the time, since it’s soooo much more fun to just get on people’s nerves xD To make matters worse, he also has a deep love for stabbing things. Mostly inanimate objects though, but still!!! Best be careful around him! Other than that, he actually dreams of becoming strong and powerful like his Papa, and sometimes sneaks into the Seducing Woods to train his ‘intimidation tactic’ on some unsuspecting homies. (He basically wants to be able to make them wither away in fear, similiar to what Cracker did xD) His favorite aunt is Angel, whom he always plots new pranks with!

Fun Fact: His relationship with his Pa is pretty good, but there was one incident that left Dodger slightly fearful of him…

Last but not least, Cherry!

Cherry is,,, the currently reigning baby of the family- she’s just,,, hhh,,, so tiny and precious ;^; With her big ruby eyes and bubblegum-pink hair she really looks like a wildcard, but there is at least one physical similarity she shares with her father- the lack of eyebrows xD Cherry loves her parents more than anything (and tbh gets a bit coddled by us too), but that doesn’t mean she won’t get into trouble! She’s an adventurer at heart and likes nothing more than to run into a forest, befriend some random animals, and discover new things! Together with her pet bunny Bun Bun she’s ready to take on any adventure, and of course, be home again by dinnertime! 

Fun fact: when she was still a very smol baby, her older brother Dodger once tried to ship her off to an orphanage because her babbling/crying was too loud lol

in conclusion: I love my babies very much, thank you xD And I definitely need to draw them more often!!! hhhHHh there are a few small comics I’m already working on but psssssttt xD Also I’m really sorry for the bad sketches on this one, I just don’t have enough good pictures aaahh

[nerdyylionn]

A Hidden Gem within a Hidden Gem

    It is known only to a few what’s her name. No one knows who she is when her name is stated. Only a few people know her by her name. However, when her face is shown, people immediately recognize her as the scary old lady of the Philippine Cinema. She is the icon of 1990s horror cinema and is regarded as the Filipino Horror Icon. She appeared in numerous films especially in the genre of horror and has been renowned by directors Peque Gallaga and the like.  She is Lilia Cuntapay, yet up to this day, her name is still unfamiliar. That’s the main core of the Mockumentary Drama, Six Degrees from Lilia Cuntapay which delves into the life of one of the most recognizable faces which people do not know the name of.

    The film’s messages are scattered all throughout the runtime of the film. It’s hard to pinpoint which one is which but nevertheless, when you realize it, it is grounded, real and true. Even though it is a mockumentary, the film’s messages could still be classified into perceived meanings of the film.      

     The referential meaning of the film is that Lilia Cuntapay, the real life Filipino Horror Icon of the 90s, gets to star into her Documentary as she prepares her speech for an upcoming award. Initially, when looking at first, the referential meaning of the film is no different from the film’s actual premise. However, since it’s a scripted documentary, which is known as a mockumentary, they integrated the real life identity and status of Lilia Cuntapay and even made her her own character of the film. This choice of the Director and writers could confuse the audience but it’s letting the audience participate on the film’s story by letting them question if it was real or not  

      The explicit meaning of the film is that an old actress, who has been into this career for almost 30 years, has been finally recognized by the film industry by nominating her as Best Actress. Her affirmation of her recognition may have wavered when she lost but it was confirmed in the end when her co-actress, and many other renowned artists truly recognized her importance. It could be simple and cheesy but this message gives hope to every person who pursued their passion for a long time.

      The implicit meaning of the film is that a person nearing her twilight years, has pursued a craft that didn’t pay off in the long run. It lets her question if her efforts were really worth it in the end when every person in her craft doesn’t seem to remember her. The implied meaning is bitter and sad and really questions if the decisions you made were right and that in the end, did it really matter? It also delves in a little of an existential crisis, which is more apparent in people during their twilight years. For me, this is quite opposite to the positive explicit message that the film gives.        

     The symptomatic meaning here is money and fame are ultimately what flings you into your status. No amount of hard work can amount to something if the society you live in values money and fame instead of real talent. This ideology is long present, many people who could have ultimately done something better were replaced or beaten by people who have a renowned history or have large amounts of wealth in their names. This ideology is named Plutocracy.

      The film tackles a lot of themes and weaves it into the plot naturally. The way it approaches its next beat is quite new and refreshing. It’s almost as if you don’t know what to expect to happen in a realistic life based film other than what to expect in a big-budget film. It makes you think how was this planned and how it worked in the end.  Thus, the film will be evaluated based on its realism, morality, coherence, complexity and originality and whether this film was good or not, objectively and by preference, on whether it’s plot and techniques worked in the end result.

      In realism, I think the film was very grounded in reality even though it’s scripted. It shows you the real conditions of every low income earner or underrated artist that wasn’t priced enough for their craft. Every scene and event are realistic as it gets, knowing that’s how people will react this way based on their attitudes and personality. The prime example of this is how people below the middle class react when they are inside Starbucks and look at the products which the establishment offers. Of course, people like Lilia would question why a caffeinated-product is so expensive when you only get to drink it once. She reacted that way because its price is outlandish for her. So for me, it’s very realistic.

     On morality, the wisdom and lesson it offers is quite touching. It’s quite resonant throughout the film, because even though Lilia was on the bitter end of her craft, she chose to stay positive and kind. Even though her living conditions were rough, she didn’t blame her life for being this way, the film showed that she just keeps doing what she loves and where she excels, which is acting. She’s also friendly to the people around her, casually talking to people in their streets, asking their help if ever needed, and they’re welcome whenever she hosts a celebration. So in morality, this film showed contrast by showing kindness and warmth into the hard cold conditions of poverty.

     In coherence, the film’s style is a mockumentary that mimics real life situations and is coupled with real interviews, so there are some scenes that come out of nowhere, for example, Lilia’s apparent imagination of her proclaiming her speech. However, every scene serves its purpose, which is to build the character of Lilia when she’s faced with different situations and ultimately, the last scene of the film in the Awarding Night. Not a single scene was wasted, and everything that was told was consistent. For example, her recurring imagination speech is there to prepare us for the last scene. Another one, is the consistency on how much she values everyone as she jots down their names on her speech cheat sheet to be able to thank them one by one. So yes, the film’s story might not be straightforward but it’s understandable thus, this film was very coherent.      

     In complexity, as said before, there are bits of real life interview shown as the plot of the mockumentary progresses forward. And as said before, these scenes help build the character of the protagonist, Lilia Cuntapay. It’s like the story is the character of Lilia, it was structured with different layers. On the surface, she's hopeful, grateful, and kind. Getting deeper, she’s ambitious and also craves recognition as she displays around her posters, as she hands out her t-shirts and takes pictures with everyone else. She also gets sad and lonely when her TV Patrol interview doesn't get featured and whenever she asks if someone was looking for her by asking her friend who’s her contact number. But the part that really got me is when she called her niece/ “doktora”, to tell her that her visa got approved. Her niece was overjoyed that she’s finally be able to be with them, but Lilia’s expression on this side of the phone shows sadness and regret, that seems to tell you that maybe at this moment, she contemplated that her years of work was for nothing and this chance of getting abroad might be her last chance on getting truly happy. And all of that detail in just a single scene. So that’s why in the area of complexity, it’s yes, it was complex enough because they’ve carefully crafted the character of Lilia as real and full of life. And since Lilia is like the film herself, the film was very much complex.

      In originality, on surface level, the film’s mode of storytelling is not original, mockumentary has already been used in different platforms and was used by comedy mostly. However, adding pieces of real life elements into the mockumentary progresses its message forward. It is also refreshing to see where the plot will take you and how ultimately led to its ending. This film doesn’t also use the tropes and conventions most Philippine cinema uses and it’s got an indie feeling so it feels liberating. So in terms of originality, it’s very original since we do not see this kind of film in Philippine Cinema, which is plagued with many brainless comedy and repetitive romance movies.

       The film, Six degrees from Lilia Cuntapay is a film about an old actress that few only know by her name. The film itself, and how Lilia Cuntapay is framed in it is like myself to the film, I do not know a single thing about it. However, as the film showed her face, a sense of familiarity and recognition sparked at me as I saw her. In the first few minutes of the film, the film has already engaged me with this sudden change and just like how I reacted in the first few minutes would also be my lasting impression of the film. It caught me off guard of how it was that good. I thought that there would be lengthy and boring moments of the film but every scene has its purposes and was never boring. All of that detail was built up until to the very last moment. And that ending could have been conventional, to just end it there, but it took it up a notch and jumped a little and had the perfect ending for the film. Just like much before I watched this film, I did not know who really was Lilia Cuntapay and I didn’t care much, but because of this film, it made me truly appreciate her and her big influence on the Philippine Cinema and Media in general. It’s not also her, but also all the actors who have big ambitions that the industry doesn’t recognize. And all people that work hard continuously for their passion despite the long unforgiving grueling years that befalls them. This film for me, is an unexpected find that turned out to be great, like Lilia herself, when her efforts are recognized in Shake Rattle III.  And these unexpected finds, these hidden treasures, are what sticks to me because I didn’t expect to enjoy this much and I didn’t expect to appreciate it this much for how the film turned out. For me, Six degrees from Lilia Cuntapay was very good. It made me care, laugh and be touched by the character of Lilia, and Lilia herself, whom I did not know by name and only recognized by face. And that’s why I also loved this film, because Six degrees from Lilia Cuntapay is a hidden gem that made me discover, appreciate and love another hidden gem, which is Lilia herself, the Queen of Philippine Horror.

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

The Eternity of Bliss - Chapter 5

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Chapter Summary: Things take a turn for the worse, but somehow Geralt and Jaskier find the time to become closer

Chapter Rating: G-T

Words: 2642

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AO3

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The next days saw more clusters, more creatures leaving Geralt and Jaskier exhausted by the end of it. 

It had been a couple of months now with this new normal, but Jaskier wouldn’t ever be used to this.  That is, he could take monsters any day. Geralt’s silence was a whole other matter. They had their friendly chats, the comfort with each other growing by the day. Yet, after all this time, Jaskier wasn’t sure he knew Geralt at all. So many questions were met with grunts and shrugs, Jaskier was now toying with the idea of reaching out to others just to gain some understanding of this brooding man.

However, the only others he could talk to were currently busy with council matters and that was adding even more stress to Jaskier’s already hectic life. There had been little from Headquarters in the past week, nothing beyond sector assignments. Something had to be happening, surely, the silence ominous as the two men waited for a word. Any word. 

When at last a message came, the men wasted no time in going to Headquarters, once again occupying a room Jaskier was now no stranger to. 

Yennefer and Triss looked nervous as they entered, as if they wanted to hide their faces from all who looked at them. It was Triss who took the stand first, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. 

“We couldn’t stop the spirit. It was too strong and we were not prepared. It has found a host.”

Jaskier’s stomach twisted. Now, their fates were almost inevitable and it was coming down to him and Geralt to save two worlds. 

“The host is a child. The princess of Cintra.”

A hush fell over the room. Jaskier could feel eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on the two women. Yennefer spared a glance in Jaskier’s direction, an unreadable expression as she didn’t look away. Her stare flicked between him and Geralt before she addressed the room.

“We’ve been able to keep her from the border for now, but she grows stronger by the day. We need even more of you to return to our world as reinforcement.”

Immediately a rush of hands went up and soon Yennefer and Triss were collecting the names of those who were ready to risk their lives. Once the meeting was over, Triss led Geralt and Jaskier into a smaller room, Yennefer eventually trailing behind. 

“You know what we’re asking of you, Geralt,” Triss addressed him as if Jaskier wasn’t there.

“Yes,” Geralt responded, his shoulders tight. 

Jaskier glanced between the three hoping for an answer. The turning of his stomach did nothing to help his frenzied mind, his confusion of being left out. This was important, but no one was telling him why. Their hushed conversation was a flame, sparking doubt Jaskier thought he was long rid of.

“I think it’s best if you hear it from Geralt,” Yennefer broke Jaskier’s spiraling mood. “Sometimes, Triss and I spare too many of the details.”

Geralt left abruptly then, leaving Jaskier no choice but to follow him with a groan. Before they could get far, Jaskier stopped Geralt grabbing onto his wrist. Damn the consequences, he needed answers.

“Why did they all stare at you, Geralt?” Jaskier jumped in. “What’s going on?”

Answering took too long. Geralt pursed his lips, a fear swarming in his eyes, though unbreaking from Jaskier’s own stare. At last, Geralt took a breath and ducked his head.

“Because I’m linked to the princess. Ever since her parents’ death, she’s been my responsibility.”

Jaskier blinked. He had heard of situations like this before but he had never been so close to one of the people involved. “Then why isn’t she here with you?”

“She’s safer in the other world,” Geralt stated as if that was the obvious answer.

“And on her own? Geralt, really. She’s a child.”

“I can’t hurt her too,” Geralt bit. 

Jaskier’s frustrations were slowly bubbling to the surface and it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. “So, it’s better to leave her to fend for herself–alone and scared–than you making a few mistakes?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then, help me understand,” Jaskier’s voice rose with exasperation. “Don’t shut me out, Geralt. You think I haven’t been thrust into the most ridiculous situations? That I haven’t felt some of the worst fears known to man?”

Regret shone in Geralt’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Of course not,” Jaskier grumbled. “So easy to forget pain when it’s not your own.”

Geralt sighed, his gaze turning downward. There was that silence again, the tautness of Geralt’s jaw that showed his struggle to talk. Jaskier wanted to say something, to get Geralt to speak, but that would only lead to more silence and anger. 

Jaskier waited, picking at his fingernails, doing everything he could to distract his impatience. When he heard a sharp inhale of breath, Jaskier whipped his head to Geralt and waited. 

“I’ve never been good with people. With anyone. Not Yennefer or Triss, not my brothers, not even the man I consider my father. All I see is the pain and disappointment I’ve caused, the way I’ve tried to make things right, only to fail in the end.”

Geralt closed his eyes, his brows wrought with concern. Jaskier pursed his lips, heart wrenching in his chest, and he reached out, placing a gentle hand on Geralt’s arm. 

“I don’t want Ciri to end up like me. I don’t want her looking at me the way I’ve seen others do,” Geralt spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

Jaskier’s eyes flickered down as his hand moved to take hold of Geralt’s. When the man didn’t pull away, Jaskier ran a thumb over his knuckles, noting all the small scars that lined his skin. 

“You should give her a chance,” Jaskier began. “As she would give you. As I’ve given you.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt frowned, his golden eyes now piercing into Jaskier. 

“You haven’t disappointed me. I mean, you’ve let your emotions say some harsh things, but I don’t hate you and I certainly don’t care for you any less from when we first met,” Jaskier admitted. 

Heat rose to his face, a need to run grew, but Jaskier stood his ground and didn’t tear his gaze away. It was now Geralt who hesitated, an unusual sorrow glistening in his eyes.

“If you knew what I’ve done–” 

“–Would you do it again?” Jaskier interrupted and when Geralt gave a small shake of his head, Jaskier squeezed his hand. “Then, I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what you used to be. You’ve learned from your mistakes and you’re trying to be better, right?”

Geralt seemed reluctant to agree to this, but his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. 

“Once Ciri and the spirit are subdued, we are seeing her immediately,” Jaskier said with resolution. “You are bringing her here and raising her like she has always been your daughter.”

There was confusion swarming in Geralt’s eyes, but he gave a nod all the same, his face relaxing bit by bit. Jaskier hoped this meant a sign of trust and he tried to take back his hand

To his surprise, Geralt did not let go right away, his expression dropping just so. There was a moment where neither man knew what to do, but it was Geralt who cleared his throat and backed away from Jaskier. 

“Not used to…” Geralt trailed off, motioning to the empty space between himself and Jaskier. 

“Oh, I’ll ask next time,” Jaskier was quick to remedy the situation. “I can’t help but touch others in affectionate ways. Keeps me grounded and it seems to help them as well.”

“It did,” Geralt reassured. “I...wouldn’t mind if you did it again. You wouldn’t have to ask.”

Jaskier blushed at this, but still smiled at Geralt, wondering what else was hidden under his serious facade. If this little bit of positivity was enough to make Geralt happy, then Jaskier was more than willing to accommodate. 

“Let’s go home then,” Jaskier took Geralt’s hand once more. 

When a strong grip overtook his own, Jaskier followed where Geralt led. There really was nowhere else he would rather be.

~

Persuading Geralt to talk more about his life was more of a challenge than Jaskier was expecting. He wouldn’t say much, even with bribes, leaving Jaskier to fill in the details. 

“So, they’re not actually your brothers?”

Geralt shook his head. “We went through trials together. I suppose at the core we are, but not by blood, Melitele forbid.”

“They’re that bad?” Jaskier laughed over his cup of coffee. 

“Worse.”

“I suppose I should be lucky to have three sisters then,” Jaskier grinned. 

He set his cup down and leaned against the couch he and Geralt were seated on. Whether it was loneliness or contentment, the two were spending many of their days out in the living room, content in the presence of each other.

“I think any amount of siblings is a trial in itself,” Geralt smirked. “Are you the oldest?”

“To my parents’ relief, yes,” Jaskier scowled a bit. “I mean, I’m glad to be the oldest for my sisters’ sakes as well. At least I’ll be the one auctioned off for arranged marriages before any of them.”

Geralt frowned at this. “I thought we were well past that on the continent.”

“Well, I suppose my parents are stubborn. They love me, yes, though with courtly negotiations, there won’t be much choice,” Jaskier shrugged. 

He had come to terms with this understanding. His family would try to avoid it at all costs, but if it came down to such a primitive situation, Jaskier wanted to make sure his sisters didn’t have to endure any of that hardship. 

“Hm.” Geralt did not seem happy with this answer and Jaskier could see him plotting something in the back of his mind. 

“No assassinating my parents,” Jaskier patted Geralt’s knee. “They are good to me in every other aspect.”

This was met with another grunt, but Jaskier didn’t want either of them to dwell in this. 

“All right, how much experience have you had with raising a child?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at this. “Not...much. I can hold a baby without dropping it.”

Jaskier bit back a laugh and carded a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s say Ciri comes to live here and she comes home crying because some other children were mean to her. What would you do?”

“Strangle them.”

“Geralt, you can’t strangle children.”

“Strangle them lightly.”

It was then Jaskier realized Geralt was just teasing him and he gave the man a playful smack. “I need honesty, Geralt. For the sake of all the children in the world.”

“I suppose I would...try to comfort her. Make her favorite foods, let her tell me everything.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Jaskier nodded. “Did anyone ever do that for you?”

“I thought we were talking about Ciri,” Geralt muttered, suddenly shifting away from Jaskier. 

Making a note in the back of his mind, Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand. “We are, but I want to make sure you’re okay too. Being a Hunter surely hasn’t been easy and now you’ve got parenthood coming your way.”

“I’ll ask you for any help I might need then,” Geralt gave a nod. 

Jaskier smiled shyly at this, imagining summon spells at the wee hours of the morning, Geralt getting frantic over something as small as a scraped knee. 

“I’ll be here,” Jaskier replied. 

Geralt stared at him then and Jaskier let another meaning behind the words sink into him. Would he always be here? Jaskier had gotten used to this place as his home, hardly giving any thought back to his abandoned flat. The very idea of it seemed so lonely now and to not see Geralt every day was now a new fear Jaskier never had before. 

“You can always come to me whenever you need a place to stay.”

Jaskier was convinced Geralt could read minds. He let out a small awkward laugh, but when Geralt’s expression didn’t change, Jaskier started to believe him. 

“I suppose I might be here for a while until I get used to living alone again,” Jaskier admitted, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up to his face. 

“I wouldn’t mind.”

This was almost too much. Jaskier wanted to shout his feelings to the world, that he had come to see Geralt as a dear friend. His fear was the only thing holding him back and he let out a shaky breath as Geralt’s stare did not falter. 

Friendship wasn’t something to be embarrassed by, but Jaskier had jumped to conclusions too many times before. People he trusted, had given his life to, had treated him like dirt, his trust nothing more than something to be used. Jaskier knew Geralt wasn’t going to do any of those things, but he was still afraid. Hesitation would always be a familiar discomfort in his life and he tried to think of something else to say, to distract them from the way the air had stiffened. 

“Would you get a pet if Ciri wanted one?” Jaskier winced a little at this, but right now, talking about Ciri was his saving grace. 

“Of course,” Geralt shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to get a dog for a while now. I just haven’t had the time.”

“Do you think Roach would be jealous?” Jaskier teased, feeling his stuttered heartbeat coming back to its usual calm.

“She’ll get over it,” Geralt sighed. “At any rate, she’s more jealous over the people I meet than any animal.”

“Oh, then I certainly don’t want to get in the way of that,” Jaskier laughed. 

“She’ll like you,” Geralt said with certainty. 

Jaskier bit his lip and fiddled around with the buttons on his vest. Geralt had intentions of introducing him to Roach, of going back to the magical world with him. It was a relief to know that Geralt didn’t want to be rid of him so soon. 

“Where is she now?” Jaskier asked, still avoiding Geralt’s eyes. 

“Kaer Morhen. My guardian, Vesemir, is taking care of her.”

“It sounds like I’ll have a whole group to meet when we go back home,” Jaskier joked. “I suppose I’ll let my family know about you as well. I have to warn you, my sisters are insufferable.”

“I’m sure I can handle them,” Geralt pressed his leg against Jaskier’s. 

Jaskier swallowed at this, clearing his throat too loudly as he tried to calm down his raging mind. Here was Geralt, the mighty Hunter, showing a sensitive side of himself, perhaps showing Jaskier what so many others longed to see. 

In this moment, he felt special. Geralt had chosen him of all people. The warmth of Geralt’s touch was the only thought soon occupying Jaskier’s mind and he was tempted to reach out, to pull Geralt in close. 

His body betrayed him and Jaskier sat with his hands in his lap, steadying his breathing. 

“I’ll get started on cooking,” Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s thoughts. 

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier blinked, watching as Geralt got to his feet. 

Several dishes floated themselves into the kitchen and Geralt followed, but not before letting his hand run across Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier shivered and stared at the man’s retreating back, dying to know what expression his face held. 

It could’ve just been a friendly touch. Surely that was all it was. Jaskier attempted to convince himself of this, occasionally glancing at Geralt in the other room. When Geralt’s gaze met his own and didn’t break, Jaskier knew all was a lost cause. 

There was something there, something that sat on the edge of terrifying and exciting. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he was ready, but then again, who ever was?

[darkobsidianquill]

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

Chapter 31

Severus came to stand before the gargoyle entrance to the headmaster's office and took a deep calming breath as he quickly locked away all of his conflicting emotions tightly behind his occlumency shields.

The last month had been both enlightening and trying on his patience. Going back to the Dark had brought an amalgam of emotions to the surface that he had spent a decade suppressing. But if he was being totally honest with himself, the most prominent emotion of them all had been... relief.

Potter had been right about one thing. Serving the Light had most certainly not been fulfilling. Everything about aiding the Light had felt wrong. It made his skin itch with disgust and frustration. He was a Dark Wizard and the Dark was where he belonged. If it hadn't been for his guilt and his strong emotional ties to Lily, he never, never would have gone to Dumbledore.

Allowing himself to become the servant to the Light Lord had been the one thing he had regretted most about his life, but he couldn't leave the man. He was trapped. Dumbledore's protection was the only thing that kept him out of Azkaban. He argued with himself that he had a decent enough life. He had a job that he could... tolerate, a regular income, a roof over his head, and freedom. Well, relative freedom.

But now with the Dark Lord back, he had an alternative. Before it was stay with Dumbledore or face the dementors. Now he had somewhere else to turn. Somewhere he felt far more at home turning to. He belonged with the Dark, and he held the Dark Lord with reverence and respect. True, he also feared the man. You would have to be insane not to. But he had always felt the draw to the Dark, and when the Dark Lord came into power during Severus's youth, he had been drawn to the Dark Lord like a moth to flame. His desire to remain by the man's side had never waned, but his love and loyalty to Lily Evans had been his one weak point.

A weakness that Albus Dumbledore had exploited to gain himself a spy and a servant.

Being the master of deception that he was, Severus had not had any problems concealing his conflicting emotions over the last month. But Albus had been utterly oblivious during that time. He had had no reason to give any of Severus's behavior any deeper analyzing. Now the Headmaster would know he had been to see the Dark Lord. Now he would be watching to make sure that Severus was remaining loyal. Now would truly test Severus's skill as a double agent.

Steeling himself he stood tall and spoke the password to the gargoyle. Peanut Butter Cups. He sneered in distaste at the old man's idiotic obsession with sweets as he stepped onto the spiral staircase and climbed up to the double-doors that entered the headmaster's office.

"Come in Severus," the old man's voice sounded from behind the door before his hand had even reached out to grasp the handle. He had expected this of course. He knew damn well that the headmaster had proximity wards that alerted him to when someone, and whom, approached his office.

Severus pulled open the door and stepped inside, quickly making his way to sit down in the chair opposite the headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore looked tired and his face was lined with worry, but Severus could see that there was something hidden behind his eyes. Something kept masterfully hidden.

"Severus, you were gone for a very long time. I was beginning to grow worried," Dumbledore said.

I'm sure you were... worried you would lose your spy.

"I am as well as could be expected."

"What happened? Has he... has he truly returned?"

"He has. Apparently he has had a body for quite some time, in fact. He has been preparing and warding his new stronghold while secretly making contact with a select few of his old followers. Tonight was the first time he called a group of us back to his side."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "For some time? How long, exactly?"

"I am not sure. He was not specific."

"How strong did he appear to be?"

"Full strength. I haven't felt a magical presence so strong... since during the height of his last reign."

Dumbledore frowned deeply and looked troubled as he clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. "This is most troubling... Did you see who all was in attendance?"

"Only a very small number of his followers returned to him. In total there were only six of us there. They were all dressed in black with full masks, but I know that Lucius Malfoy and Royce Avery were both there."

"Only six?" Dumbledore asked with a hopeful air to his voice.

"He was most displeased by the low turn-out."

"Hmm..." Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully as he nodded. "You were gone more more than four hours – what all was discussed during the meeting?"

"He described to those of us who were there what happened to him during his time... away. He also expressed his intense displeasure that none of us ever sought him out to assist him in his return."

"Were you cursed, Severus?" Dumbledore asked suddenly as he sat up straighter and took on an air of worried concern.

"I was not. But several of the others were."

"I am most relieved that you were spared."

Severus chose to simply respond with a nod at that remark.

"What else, Severus?"

Severus went on to explain all of the various things that the Dark Lord had instructed him to relay to the headmaster. Next to none of it was actually true, but it was convincing, and sufficiently misleading, so it would serve it's purpose.

"Did he speak of any of his plans for Harry?" Dumbledore asked after Severus had reached a break in his information relay.

"He said that he had very specific plans already in motion and that we were not to interfere in them. It would seem that Potter's entrance into the tournament was the Dark Lord's doing, after all. However it was part of a failed plot that was apparently discarded several months ago. Bartemius Crouch Sr. disappearance is somehow related to it but I am unfamiliar with the details. Once the plan was abandoned, Potter's continued participation in the tournament was no longer important, but had become inconsequential. The fact that he survived it was apparently disappointing, but not unexpected. The Dark Lord said that he would have been annoyed had he been denied the opportunity to deal with the boy himself."

Dumbledore looked troubled and nodded his head thoughtfully. "Thank you for what you've discovered. Please do you best to discover what his plans regarding Harry might be."

"I will see what I can do, however he seems to be holding his secrets most dear to him at the moment. He was never one for trusting his followers with the details of his plans, and he seems even more secretive at the moment. Much of the time tonight was spent getting intelligence from the few of us who returned to him."

Again, Dumbledore nodded.

"There is one more thing," Severus said slowly.

"Yes, my boy?"

Severus let out a mild sneer at the endearment, but this was normal behavior for Severus, so he knew Dumbledore would not take it badly.

"There was one unknown person who is apparently staying at his headquarters with him. "

"Oh?"

"He was a younger man that the Dark Lord called 'Evan Harris'. He looked to be a little more than twenty and was wearing a half-mask instead of the normal full mask. The Dark Lord called the young man his 'apprentice' and instructed us that if he were ever absent from the manor that we could give any reports to the young man instead."

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair and looked legitimately alarmed for the first time that night. "Apprentice?"

"Yes."

"Evan Harris... There haven't been any students at Hogwarts by that name as I can recall. I will have to go looking through the records to make sure... Did he look or sound familiar to you?"

"I did not recognize him. Though his unique mask left more of his face visible than is normal, I was still unable to see much. From what I could tell he had blondish colored hair. It was long since it was coming out from under his hood."

"And you say he's living there?"

"That is what the Dark Lord said."

Dumbledore sat with his hand folded under his chin, and silently contemplating for a long, silent moment before he looked up again. "Thank you Severus, again, for all that you are doing. It will be a tremendous help to me. I cannot express enough how important your contribution to the cause is."

Severus's lip curled in distaste, but he kept it to a minimum.

"It would seem that I will need to call the old crowd back together. With Voldemort's return confirmed it is imperative that we act as soon as possible."

– –

It was nearly 5am before Harry crawled back into his bed in Gryffindor Tower. He had been sorely tempted to just sleep at the manor, but knew that would be reckless and not really worth the risk of people noticing him not having actually slept in his bed. The only consolation was that the next day was a Saturday, so he could sleep in without anyone having anything to complain about.

Exams were now done, for just about everyone. All that remained were some NEWT exams that would be held on Monday and Tuesday. Everyone else had the week to relax around the castle until the end of year feast on Thursday, and then the train ride back to London on Friday. That gave Harry only a few days leeway in speaking with Sirius again.

Harry slept in again on Sunday, and found himself annoyingly occupied all day. He even had trouble slipping away to pay Tom a visit, and hadn't been able to free up enough time to slip away to Sirius's cave so he decided to schedule a nice solid block of time to do it on Monday.

As of dinner on Sunday evening, Harry was positive that Draco had had recent correspondence with his father because the Slytherin was looking at him with whole new eyes. Despite their encounters, conversations, and the fact that Harry had clearly been using Dark magic, Draco had still been skeptical about the validity of his claims... until now. Now it had been confirmed by the Dark Lord himself, and it looked as if Draco were going to have a brain aneurysm from the mere concept.

Harry Potter really had switched to the Dark.

Harry shot him a secret smirk and winked at him, causing the Malfoy heir to go wide eyed and quickly look away. Harry snorted into his food, catching the attention of Ron and Ginny, but he brushed their curiosity off.

Monday morning Harry managed to slip away from everyone, with the excuse that he needed some fresh air, some alone time, and the opportunity to take a nice long walk around the castle before he had to leave it behind for the summer holidays. His friends all knew how sentimental he was about the school, so they accepted this easily.

He shrunk his broom and slipped it into his bag so he wouldn't have to make the long trek to the cave on foot, and slipped out across the grounds under his invisibility cloak. Once he had escaped the wards, he enlarged his broom, hopped on while keeping the cloak draped over him, and flew low across the hilly terrain towards the cave that Sirius had lived in for the last few months.

Harry was relieved to find Sirius there when he arrived. He was sleeping on a rough pallet bed with only a few rather dirty blankets for cover. The sight made Harry frown deeply, and only increased his desire to help his godfather. While deep down he really did wish that his godfather could accept the Dark Lord, somehow deep inside, he really doubted it would really work out. Sirius Black really was a Gryffindor, and he had an ingrained hatred of the Dark Lord.

He felt so conflicted in regards to his godfather.

Harry stepped deeper into the cave, bowed to Buckbeak and waited for the hippogriff to return the gesture, and then knelt down beside Sirius on the cold stone floor.

"Sirius?" Harry said, as he gently shook his godfather's shoulder.

It took a minute of prodding but Sirius finally startled awake.

"Huh-h... H-harry?"

Harry chuckled and sat back on his haunches. "For someone whose on the run, you're a surprisingly deep sleeper.

"Er... had a late night..." the older wizard grumbled rubbing his hand across his jaw and standing groggily to his feet. Harry stood up with him and pulled out his cypress wand. He spelled them a pair of comfortable chairs and sat down in one while Sirius left the cave to relieve himself. By the time he had come back in, Harry had pulled out a bag of food and supplies and enlarged it. Sirius eagerly began the eat and the two sat in relative silence for several minutes.

Finally Harry broke the quiet. "Have you been giving it some thought?"

"Of course I have," Sirius said with a heavy sigh. "You know I got an owl yesterday from Dumbledore. He's calling the old crowd back together. Apparently he knows Voldie's back."

"Yup. There was a really large meeting two nights ago. The Dark Lord had Snape go to Dumbledore before hand, letting him know that he'd been summoned. As was expected, Dumbledore asked Snape to resume his role as spy and return to the Dark Lord. After the meeting, Snape was instructed to go back to Dumbledore and make a report on it."

"And you all honestly expect Snape to be loyal? The guy is a dirty two-faced snake. He'll always play both sides. How do you know he isn't really spying for Dumbledore and telling him all about where your loyalties really lie?"

"Severus is loyal to the Dark. It's where he's always wanted to be. He went to Dumbledore because he loved my mum and was afraid that the Dark Lord would kill her."

"And he did."

"Yes, but now Severus knows that Dumbledore was the one really pulling the strings. Dumbledore not only used Severus to deliver the fake prophecy that ended up painting a huge 'kill me' on our backs, but then he used Severus and tricked him into indenturing himself to Dumbledore by playing on his guilt. Besides, Snape has made an unbreakable vow to protect me, and has sworn his loyalties to the Dark Lord under oath. We're relatively sure of his allegiances. We're also going to be careful of just what he knows in regards to me."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but paused and got a funny look on his face. "Wait, he's sworn an unbreakable vow to protect you?"

"Apparently he did it years ago when he first went to Dumbledore and offered his services as a double agent. It was how he proved his loyalties. He wasn't willing to swear a vow to Dumbledore, but he was willing to swear one to Lily's son."

Sirius looked utterly gobsmacked and sat there stunned for a moment before he shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Alright..." he said slowly.

"So what are you going to do? About Dumbledore's letter, that is."

Sirius sighed and ran his hand through his dirty tangled hair. "I don't know, pup... I guess it depends on me going and joining up with your Dark Lord. If I do go and join Voldemort, then I guess it will be expected of me to go back to the Order. Thing is I'm not the actor that Snivelus is. I'm not cut out for spying. I also only have rudimentary occlumency training. I have to admit I'm hesitant to spend too much time around Dumbledore knowing what I know."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That's reasonable."

"But..." Sirius started hesitantly, "Dumbledore suggested in his letter that the Order is going to need a new headquarters to hold it's meetings in. He asked if I still had control over my families old home in London."

"Home in London?"

"Yeah, on Grimmauld Place. It's probably a downright rancid old place by now. Been sitting empty about a decade, at least. It's the house I grew up in."

"And do you still have control over it?"

"Of course. Could go there anytime. It's already unplottable and had enumerable protections and enchantments on the place, which is what would make it so ideal for the Order's headquarters."

"Wait, it sounds like if you went there, even the Ministry couldn't find you."

"That's right."

"So why haven't you gone back there?"

Sirius grimaced. "I'd rather live in a cave than go back to that house. I suppose it..." he sighed heavily. "No... I hated that house. I hated my family and I hated the time I spent in that house. I just didn't want to go back there unless I had to."

"Alright. So Dumbledore is asking if he can use the house for his Order?"

"Right. But he'd also want to put a Fidelius charm on the house for added protection."

"And who would be the Secret Keeper?"

"Him."

Harry grimaced.

"He 'graciously offered it' so that it would be an added layer of security to keep the Ministry from finding me. He also suggested that if we can get Grimmauld Place cleaned up enough by August, we could possibly bring you to stay with me."

"Sounds like he's trying to sweeten the deal to get the house. I wonder if he really meant it..."

"Yeah..." Sirius sighed again.

"Well..." Harry said slowly, "mind you this is if you accept our offer, but one option would be that you agree and offer up your miserable childhood home to Dumbledore for his Order, but you don't stick around to help clean the place up. Leave that to him to deal with. You tell him that you're heading out to try and track down Pettigrew and you run off and disappear for a month. You spend that month hanging with me at the manor. During that time, we can keep Pettigrew unconscious down in the holding cells while the Dark Lord makes sure that the obliviate holds firm on him. At the end of the month, you take Pettigrew to the Ministry and get your named cleared."

"You make it sound so easy," Sirius said with an eyeroll. "I doubt I'll be able to just walk into the Ministry with Wormtail and get my named cleared. If you recall, Fudge has a standing order that I be kissed on sight."

"We can work with that, don't worry."

Sirius gave Harry an incredulous look. "We?"

"To–The Dark Lord. He's got several Death Eaters in the Ministry that even Dumbledore doesn't know about. Plus I've placed the seeds inside Minister Fudge's little mind that I'm a fan of his. I even offered to just happen to show up in some public venue over the summer and give him an endorsement for his re-election this fall."

"WHAT? Give that idiot Fudge a public endorsement?"

"Of course. He's an incompetent idiot. He would rather look like he's doing something than actually doing it. It will be far easier to dismantle the Ministry from the inside out if it's being run by a do-nothing moron who listens to Lucius Malfoy's every word."

"Oh Merlin, Harry," Sirius moaned as he let his forehead fall into his hands. "I don't know if I can do this... siding with Lucius Malfoy... trying to 'dismantle the ministry'? At the very least, you're helping the Dark Lord plan a coup d'etat, and at the worst, a war!"

"The Magical government of Britain is a corrupt, ineffective, and bigoted bunch of sycophantic morons. They're worthless at governing and they need to go."

"And you think that Voldemort will do a better job?"

Harry sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair running his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Look, I doubt we'll ever make any progress on this front. We each have an exceedingly different impression of the man."

"You may say that he doesn't care about muggles and muggleborns this time around, but do you honestly think he's going to treat muggleborns fairly in this new government he makes?"

"Muggleborns are just the offspring of several generations removed squibs. No human is just spontaneously born with magic. There has to be some creature blood in their lineage. Granted, muggleborns have a lot more muggle contamination, but we all have non-magic, human contamination, that's just a fundamental fact."

Sirius made to say something, but then came up short. "Wait, what?"

"Here... I'm going to tell you some things and you have to promise not to repeat any of it to anyone, alright?"

"Okay..."

"The Dark Lord is a 'half blood'. His father was a muggle. Not even a muggleborn – a muggle."

Sirius gaped at him in stunned silence.

"His father abandoned he and his mum while she was pregnant and she died right after he was born so he was raised in a muggle orphanage. He didn't even know he was a wizard until he got his Hogwarts letter, and his witch mum gave him his muggle dad's name, so he went to Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin with absolutely no knowledge of his ancestry. Everyone assumed him to be a muggleborn. I'm sure you can imagine how a muggleborn was treated in Slytherin."

"It would have been a massacre," Sirius murmured under his breath.

"It definitely wasn't pleasant. But he was a parseltongue, and when that got out, some of his house mates started to realize that there was clearly more to him than met the eye. He was also an exceptionally talented wizard and more magically powerful than anyone else in the school at the time. He got top marks in all his subjects. He's a genius. So he got respect, but it was a grudging respect and he had to work his ass off for it. He learned to work with and manipulate his house mates to serve his needs, and that meant using their prejudices against them.

"He knows the truth about muggleborns, but it's not an idea that is easily introduced. The old pureblood families would have trouble accepting something like that, especially since so many squibs came from long pureblood lines, and then got disowned and thrown out into the muggle world to fend for themselves. Most so-called muggleborn children are actually descendants of really ancient pureblood lines. If the old families recognized this, they could be faced with having inheritances threatened.

"He wanted to wipe out the muggles, and it was easy to get people to follow him on that goal because of the prejudices many old wizarding families hold against them, but those same followers are just as prejudiced against the muggleborn and would target them as well. It was easier for the Dark Lord to let them do as they pleased because as long as they were happy they were helping him further his cause."

"But isn't that the same thing you've been complaining about Dumbledore? Willing to sacrifice innocents if it's for his 'greater good'?" Sirius argued.

"I never said Tom was perfect!" Harry snapped. "I never claimed that he wasn't a ruthless murderer. He is. I know that. He did some seriously fucked up shit in the past, and he's going to continue to do more in the future. I'm not excusing what he did or what he allowed to happen, but he isplanning a different tactic this time around, and hopes to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. He also intends to slowly reintroduce the old knowledge about the creature lineage descent and eventually let that bleed into the realization of where exactly 'muggleborns' actually come from."

"So you're claiming that Voldemort is going to set up a magical government where muggleborns are treated as equals?" Sirius asked incredulously.

Harry sighed. "Look, it's not going to happen overnight, and unfortunately there's a huge anti-muggleborn stigma attached to his cause right now, which will make things difficult in the beginning, but in the end his goal is to create a government that properly serves witches and wizards and even muggleborns are are still witches and wizards."

"You make it sound like he's the good guy. He's not the good guy, Harry!"

"There's isn't really any such thing as heroes and villains, Sirius. Good and evil don't exist. Very few people get into this stuff because they're legitimately evil. People have goals and motives and when someone is willing to fight for their ideals it's because they believe in what they're fighting for. They believe that they are the good guys. Everyone believes that they're the ones in the right and the people fighting against them are the ones who are wrong. It's all about perspective in the end. History is written by the victors, which is why the history books are always able to peg one side as evil while the other side – the winning side – were the heroes and saviors.

"Everyone has goals and objectives that they believe in and are willing to fight for, and no one fights with the goal of destroying the world unless they're an insane sociopath or something, and despite what you've been led to believe, Voldemort is not an insane sociopath.

"Dumbledore's side is fighting to maintain the status quo. That's what he's fighting for. To maintain the easy, already-established, and vaguely-functional government that we currently have in place. My side is fighting to tear it down and rebuild something that isn't a pathetic, ineffective, worthless pile of hippogriff dung run by incompetent imbeciles!"

"You make it sound nice, Harry, but in the end, your trying to rebuild it into a dictatorship with Voldemort sitting in a throne on top a pile of bloody corpses!"

"A revolution is a struggle to the death between the future and the past."

"Oh, you want to throw quotes at me? Here's one. 'Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.'"

Harry sighed heavily and fell back in his chair, pinching his nose. "Look... we're getting nowhere. You clearly can't do this. Forget it. You vow still holds true. You can't tell Dumbledore –"

"Harry! Wait a damn minute!"

"No, Sirius. I realize I was just deluding myself, hoping I could help you, but in the end, you could never be happy over here with me. You will never be able to follow Voldemort. It's just not going to happen. You cannot be loyal to a man who you fundamentally despise, and nothing I say is going to change your mind on the issue."

"Harry! Come on now! Look, I said that I was going to stick by you and I meant it, I'm –"

"No. Just no. Look Sirius, if you come with me – if you take up the offer and exchange yourself for Peter, then you're committing yourself to our side. You will be expected to work towards our goals, and I just don't think you could be able to force yourself to do that in good conscience. You'd be miserable and you'd start to hate yourself, and I'm not going to put you into that position."

Sirius groaned loudly and collapsed back into his chair grumbling under his breath.

"You know I'm right. You just aren't cut out for this. Not for the Dark. Even knowing how badly Dumbledore has fucked you over, and how bad he's fucked me over... you still can't bring yourself to side with us. But I can understand that."

"I just don't understand how you can honestly think that Voldemort is going to make the world a better place!"

"And you think that Dumbledore will?"

"Well, alright, probably not him either, but –"

"Well I'm not seeing any other options right now. I'm picking Tom. I actually trust him."

"And there you go again! How can you possibly –"

"Just don't, Sirius. I'm not starting this again. Let's just agree to disagree and call it done."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but then his face shifted to an expression of exhausted defeat and he let out a slow breath. The two sat in silence for a long minute.

"So what are you going to do now?" Harry asked, finally.

"I don't know..." Sirius said with another heavy sigh. "I'm not joining up with Dumbledore, that's for sure. I don't honestly think I could even stand to be in the room with the man, knowing what I know now."

Harry nodded his head solemnly. "I know how you feel. It was a real struggle not to curse the man the first few days after I learned about what he pulled with the prophecies. And I have to look at the bloody wanker every day at meals."

"See, I just don't know if I could do that. People would start to notice that there was something going on. I'm not that good an actor when I'm angry, Harry. I don't think I could convince the man that I still look up to and respect him. I don't think I even could do the spy thing for you."

Harry sighed. "Yeah... I know. I knew I was just being an idiot, trying to set this whole convoluted thing up. Tom told me that this probably wouldn't work out, but I had to try."

"You really spend a lot of time with the guy?"

Harry leaned his head forward and grinned at his godfather. "I know that to you, it sounds unfathomable, but I really do consider him a friend. More than that really. He... he gets me. He and I have so much in common it's bizarre. Our childhoods, the way our magic works, the way we approach problems... He knows just how to explain something to make it make perfect sense. Whenever I'm stuck on some magical concept or spell and I just can't get it, he has a way of making it clear as day with the simplest explanations. I mean, we didn't even talk politics for the first month or so that I was spending time with him. We just talked about everything else.

"And a bit over a month ago we sort of... I guess we broke down a barrier, and since then it's like there isn't anything we can't talk about. Sometimes I'll ask a question he doesn't want to deal with and he'll change the subject, but 9 out of 10 times, if I ask a question, he'll give me a straight answer. And as I've gotten more comfortable with him, I've started asking pretty much whatever the hell comes to mind. We've talked about each other's childhoods, we've talked about each of our experiences at Hogwarts, we've talked about how we each first started dabbling in the dark arts... I mean, he's been willing to share really intimate, personal stuff with me and I just... it's... he's really..." Harry huffed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.

"It doesn't matter," Harry finally said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. "Just because I can connect with him, doesn't mean that you ever will. I doubt he would ever willingly show you the side of himself that he's willing to show me. You'd never get to know him the way I've gotten to know him. And in the end, your politics and ours are just too different. This isn't going to work."

Sirius sighed and slowly nodded his head. "So what do you want me to do, Harry?"

"Do what you want. Just don't join the order unless you're willing to stand with Dumbledore, against me. Because in the end, the Order is my enemy. Dumbledore is my enemy. And someday, I'm going to be going to war with them, and it's probably going to be bloody."

Sirius looked defeated and shook his head slowly. "I promised I'd look after you. Promised I'd protect you..."

"I don't need protecting, Sirius. Hell, I've got the most powerful wizard in the world already looking out for me. I'm good."

"Yeah, but who will protect you from him?"

Harry huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Don't bother, Sirius."

Sirius sighed again the the two lapsed into another thick moment of silence.

"You do realize that I can't give you Pettigrew now, right?" Harry asked.

Sirius grimaced but nodded his head. "You'd really stand beside the man who betrayed your parents?"

Harry shrugged. "One of these days, I'm going to kill him. When he's worn out his usefulness. He's still worth something right now though. Plus Tom's hesitant to just outright kill the man when he played a fairly significant role in helping the Dark Lord get a body back after thirteen years as a spirit. Even though he knows that Wormtail only returned to him is because he's a coward, and only because he wanted Voldemort to protect him, not because he wanted to help the Dark Lord or because he believed in the cause... but still... Wormtail helped him, and he refuses to 'reward' such behavior by betraying the man outright."

Sirius snorted. "The Dark Lord has a code of ethics?"

"He does, believe it or not. A lot of it would probably seem harsh or even cruel to you, but I think they're pretty valid."

"Give an example."

Harry growled lightly and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Alright. He refuses to ever leave a magical child orphaned."

"Huh?"

"If the parents are both killed, the child is killed too. If possible, he prefers at least one parent is left alive, so that the child doesn't have to die. Generally the mother. But if both parents have to die, the child has to die too."

"And that's a good thing? That's disgusting! Killing an innocent child?"

"Better than having it raised by fucking muggles in some orphanage or group home, or by muggle relatives who will be afraid of it!" Harry snapped. "There are no magical orphanages, Sirius. None."

"Not all orphans would be treated the way you were, Harry," Sirius said hesitantly.

"Muggles are afraid of things they don't understand. Parents of so-called muggleborns are more-often-than-not still good to their children because they are their biological children and they love them no matter how frightening their crazy supernatural powers seem to be, but there's no bond like that with an orphan. No mandate that says 'love me no matter how big a freak I am'. Magical orphans are way more likely to end up abused and mistreated by muggles than anyone else."

"Just because you –"

"Tom too! Did you know the muggle woman who ran the orphanage he was raised in was so terrified by the things he could do, she brought in a priest to exercise him when he was five? And then again when he was seven, and eight? Have you ever seen a muggle exorcism? It's terrifying! Imagine doing that to a five year old? Imagine being that young and confused and being told you have a demon inside you! How do you think that would feel? How fucked up do you think that would make you?"

"Alright! Alright..." Sirius said, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

"We're just running in circles again. Look..." Harry paused and began to dig into his pocket. He pulled out bottlecap with a hole punched through the center, on a long length of twine. "It's a two-way portkey. It will take you to the manor house if you ever change your mind, or if you're ever in any serious trouble. The activation word is Riddle Manor. It's keyed to only take one person, so you can't bring anyone with you. Even if you're holding onto someone at the time of activation, they'll still get left behind."

"How'd you manage that?"

"These aren't standard issue, Ministry port-keys. These are custom made by Voldemort himself. If you know what you're doing, you can put all sorts of specific little things into a port-key."

"I guess so..."

"Anyway, you take this," Harry handed over the portkey. "put it around your neck or something. You can keep it close. If the Ministry or the dementors get close you can always use it as an emergency get-away. Unfortunately, since it'll only take you, you obviously can't bring Buckbeak with you if you do come, but it's a two-way port-key so perhaps you could go back for him."

Harry sighed and stood to his feet. "I need to get going. People are going to start missing me if I'm gone all day. Getting mail to me this summer is going to be a bit slower. You can address owls to 'Harry Potter' and it'll get automatically redirected to a post box I've got set up, and then my mail will get collected every few days by a house elf."

"Huh? Why are you doing all that?"

"The manor has anti-owl wards on it. T–Voldemort doesn't like to take risks with tracking charms and other such things that can easily be placed on an owl delivering post. Or risk someone just following an owl on a broom. Honestly I'm shocked that the Ministry hasn't tried something like that to track you down. Just address a letter to Sirius Black and track the owl..."

"Ah, but that would be logical and intelligent," Sirius remarked with a weak grin. Harry smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He wasn't really feeling in much of a smiling mood. Who knew if he'd be seeing his godfather again anytime soon.

"Well... goodbye Sirius."

Sirius got up and stood awkwardly in front of Harry for a moment before he leaned forward and pulled Harry into a slightly stiff embrace. Harry hesitated but returned the gesture after a moment. His chest felt heavy. Sirius was the first person from 'before' that he had been honest with, and now he was basically all but cutting ties. Sirius had been just as royally fucked over as Harry, and yet the man still couldn't follow him down his chosen path. But if he was being honest with himself, he'd known that it never really could work.

Sirius was just too much of a Gryffindor at heart.

"Goodbye pup," Sirius said into Harry's shoulder and neck. "I sure hope you know what you're doing. If you ever need an escape... I'm here for you."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Alright Sirius. I won't need it, but thanks for the offer."

[residesatshamecentral]

Joker Noir: Comic script

Sooo, this ended up bigger than I intended...

PAGE ONE

A LONG PANEL, TAKING UP THE ENTIRE TOP OF THE PAGE

The top of a well-ordered desk. A newspaper takes up the majority of the panel, but there should be space for a few pens, a full coffee mug, and importantly a framed photo of a woman. Her photo could have an affectionate scrawl across it, something like 'Love your smile, X'.

A man's hand holds the newspaper loosely. The main headline is bold and should dominate the image:

FIFTH JOKER MURDER

Text: The Joker had been terrorising my city for a week.

A ROW OF THREE PANELS, ALL THE SAME SIZE AND VISUALLY SIMILAR

FIRST PANEL

Harvey Dent looks down grimly at the paper in front of him. His face dominates the foreground, laving a narrow slice of background to the left of the panel. In that slice of background is a doorway, a bit of wall, and, approaching, the shadow of Pamela Isley.

Text: His murderous campaign against the Batman had left bodies scattered across Gotham. Commissioner Loeb and Judge Snyder were the most recent causalities.

SECOND PANEL

Isley is now standing in the doorway. We see her full-body, while Dent's face still takes up half the foreground. She is little more than a silhouette, with details hidden.

Text: I was surrounded by dangerous people. Isley: Mister Dent.

THIRD PANEL

Dent turns so his face is in profile. She is still poised in the doorway.

Dent: Miss Isley. To be honest, it's not a good time. What can I do for you?

TWO LONG, NARROW PANELS ON TOP OF EACH OTHER FIRST PANEL

Isley approaches the desk. Dent is back to staring grimly at his newspaper. He really does not like Isley, and her being here puts him on guard, but he can't help but be attracted to her.

Isley: Always so stiff, Counsellor. Maybe I just wanted to see you. Dent: Was that a flock of pigs that flew by? Isley: Maybe I just wanted to test the waters. Maybe I wanted to commiserate with you.

SECOND PANEL

Isley seats herself elegantly on the desk, sliding away some papers. Dent looks up at her. Most of her face should be obscured, or cut off by the panel edge.

Isley: Maybe I wanted to warn you. Dent: Warn me?

PAGE 2

A LARGE PANEL, TAKING UP MUCH OF THE PAGE

Isley and Dent are shown from a new angle now. Isley is seated (or lying) elegantly on the top of the desk, looking down at Dent. For the first time, we see her properly, not silhouetted or cut off. We can see all the details of her hair and face and clothing.

Her expression should be telling about her attitude to this situation. Pamela genuinely thinks she's about to do this man a favour – save his life. At the same time, she'll be making him her stooge. And Dent is a very attractive man. A fool from her point of view, but a very handsome and intelligent fool. Her attitude to Dent is very ambiguous. Of course, her main aim right now is to seduce him, so these feelings take back seat.

Text: Pamela Isley. CEO of Isley Health and Beauty. Shady as hell. If it hadn't been for the Joker killings, we might have already started prosecution against her. Isley: The Joker. These murders. He is going to go for you next. He has to, you know. Dent: What do you know about the Joker? Isley: Enough to know I don't want to know more.

A LONG, NARROW PANEL

We see Dent's irritated frown, and a fragment of Isley's face. She is leaning in now.

Text: I had suspected for a while that she had some connections to the underworld. Now she seemed set on confirming it. Dent: Why are you telling me? Isley: In times of trouble... friends are valuable.

A ROW OF FOUR PANELS, ALL VISUALLY SIMILAR FIRST PANEL

Isley and Dent in profile. Isley is poised seductively over him.

Isley: You need a friend.

SECOND PANEL

She kisses him deeply.

THIRD PANEL

She draws away from him. She looks at him with the satisfaction of a fisherman eyeing his latest catch. His expression is somewhat blank.

FOURTH PANEL

He is looking at her with furious rejection. Her expression is stunned. This has never happened before. Not once.

Dent: Get the hell out of my office.

PAGE 3

A LARGE, SQUARISH PANEL

Isley is sliding off the desk, confused and flustered. Dent is standing and turning away from her. He is full of anger, and something like guilt. In the background, the photo of his fiancée is visible.

Isley: Dent. We - Dent: We what, Isley? We could help each other? We could have a great business relationship? We would make a lovely couple?

A VERY TALL, NARROW PANEL

We see only a fragment of Isley's face. Most of her expression is shadowed, but her eyes are large, and visible to us.

Isley: Yes. Dent: Ha.

FOUR PANELS IN A ROW PANEL ONE

Den'ts desk is in the foreground. Beyond it, we see Isley from the back. She has clasped her hands behind her back and is in the act of slipping a ring off her finger. She has turned her head so we see it in profile, and is eyeing the full mug on Dent's desk. She has composed herself now. Dent still has his back to her as he talks.

Dent: You're crooked as hell, and the whole world knows it.

PANEL TWO

Close on Isley's hands. She is opening the ring with a fingernail. The coffee cup is big, prominent in the foreground.

Dent: So you think the Joker's got me in his sights? People have wanted me dead since I took this job.

PANEL THREE

Isley slips a white capsule out of the ring.

Dent: I don't need your help. And I don't want you.

PANEL FOUR

Isley drops the capsule into the coffee mug. It hisses softly.

Dent: A month from now, I'll be married. To the love of my life. Isley: Oh?

PAGE 4

THREE SMALL PANELS IN THE TOP LEFT HAND CORNER

Isley's lips as she speaks.

Isley: A month from now... you'll be a married man.

The capsule, hissing and slowly dissolving in a spiral of white residue in the circle of the coffee mug.

Pamela's eye, slightly obscured behind a stray lock of hair.

THE NEXT PANEL SHOULD BE ALMOST A FULL PAGE IMAGE

Isley strides towards us, smoothing her hair with one hand. There are a lot of conflicting feelings in her now: anger, regret, pity, satisfaction, irony, vindictiveness, sadness. But they are all held in control.

Behind her, Dent watches her leave. He is tense and proud and, let’s be honest, pretty sexually frustrated, but proud of himself for staying loyal. Behind him is the desk and the window with it's Venetian blinds. On it, prominent, the picture of his fiancée, and the now-poisoned coffee mug.

The whole image should be an exercise in perspective. Pamela Isley is large in the foreground, behind her is Dent, smaller. Behind him, the desk. The coffee mug should be the 'focal point' of the lines of perspective, the point the lines are leading the eye towards.

Isley: I'll let you think that, Harvey.

PAGE FIVE

A LARGE, SQUARISH PANEL

The scarred side of Dent's face, obscured and broken up by the shadows of a set of Venetian blinds. He is distant, still lost in his story. His eye stares out of the shadows, thoughtful.

Spade [off panel]: Are you saying she knew?

A MUCH LARGER PANEL

Dent is standing with his back to us, before a window in an office. It is visibly not the same office as we have seen, but there are similarities. The blinds throw barred shadows over him. Behind him, Spade sits in the visitor's chair at his desk. He is in profile to us. His expression is thoughtful.

Dent: She knew something. She knew I wouldn't be married. Spade: She could have just meant she was going to have you.

A LONG PANEL, TAKING UP THE LOWER PAGE

We see Dent from the front now, and from a low angle, the perspective you would get through the window. We see now how much older and harder he is, we have a good view of his face. He is holding his coin. He is very physically intimidating, in a way he haven't seen before. Behind him, Spade is watching from the desk. The room behind them is half torn up, half immaculate. Evidence of Dent's madness.

Dent: Yes. And she could have known every stage of the Joker's plan. What he was going to do, to my fiancée, to me. The kidnapping. The bomb. My face. She could have known.

A ROW OF THREE PANELS

PANEL ONE

We are back in the past. Dent is raising his coffee mug to his lips as the phone rings.

Text: I can't know what she was thinking. But I need to.

PANEL TWO

Dent has the phone pressed to his ear. He looks disturbed. He has put the mug down on the desk, but not let go of the handle.

Dent: Not another killing already? Damn him... I'll be right there...

Text: All I know for certain, Spade, is that she knew there was a disaster in my future. And she was right.

PANEL THREE

The abandoned coffee mug takes up much of the foreground. There is still a swirling white residue on the surface. In the background, Dent is pulling on his coat. His hat is waiting on a hook.

Text: I need to know the truth.

PANEL FOUR

Dent has put on his hat and is exiting the room. The mug sits in the foreground, residue still swirling, a murder plot that never came to pass.

@me-fish