#and suddenly expected to be this perfect paragon of goodness

[icarianstars]

✨THE SAVIOUR✨

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

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“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You��!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[undead-potatoes]

Sunny! Don't know if anyone else has asked you this, but tell us about your Rook too please? Class, background, fun fact :3

HAAA I was JUST about to post my own little introduction when you sent this, perfect timing B)

This is my Rook, Ronnie Mercar (he/she/they), a dwarven rogue belonging to the Shadow Dragons faction.

I'm still hashing things out, but the idea so far is that they used to belong to one of the minor noble houses of Orzammar. In their youth they were heavily influenced by the political discourse surrounding the casteless*, as well as their anxieties surrounding what was expected of them by their family and Orzammar society, both of which fed into their more rebellious nature.

Long story short, years of animosity towards her family and Orzammar as whole made her leave the dwarven city behind, a final act of defiance of both. She did regret this decision about 5 minutes after going through with it, but the bridges had already been burned so she had no choice but to keep on going.

He spent the first couple of years just roaming about, surviving mostly of off the valuables he had brought with him from Orzammar and letting the wind take him where it might. This is where his personal and political journey truly began, discovering the world and just how sheltered he had been growing up. He became more and more involved with the "small folk" in his travels, both as a necessity and out of curiosity, which is how he eventually got tangled up in organizations like Red Jenny and later the Shadow Dragons.

It's this journey of someone who lived a very comfortable life, had an awakening that just shook their entire world view to their core, and slowly became more and more radicalized about it. Their activism was probably clunky as fuck to begin with, but after a few decades in the right company they figured their shit out, as you do.

The meta reason they're a rogue is bc I wanted to play one again. The in-universe reason is that they were primarily taught to fight from members of the various groups they ran into, most of which I imagine would be rogues playing fast and loose with the "rules" of combat. They have the body for it too, being very agile and strong in ways similar to a gymnast, with a good amount of upper body strength and a strong core.

Fun facts:

He absolutely cannot stand mushrooms. The texture, the flavor, the way they're in EVERYTHING down in Orzammar, it just all made him hate them with a fiery passion.

Despite being blind in one eye, they're a great shot. You only need one eye for aiming anyways.

She hates it when people shortens her name to Ron. It's either Ronnie, Fevronia, or Rook. Take your pick or fuck off.

*In my canon, the Warden was a casteless dwarf who was made Paragon after the blight, and thus had a noble house founded in her name. She let in all sorts of casteless to her house after its founding, as is the right of any Paragon who founds a house, and I imagine this in combination with King Bhelen making a (former) casteless noble hunter his rightful queen really stirred the shit pot in Orzammar.

For with a society as ancient and rigid as Orzammar, what do you do when that rigidity is fundamentally shaken to its core? When some of the most revered and powerful among you suddenly come from stock you considered a stain on your entire race? And let me tell you, my Brosca did absolutely nothing to make that noise any quieter, taking every opportunity to be just as defiant and scandalous as she could get away with.

I'm not sure how much change this actually ended up enacting, but it sure as hell kept the political discourse going.

[nettleandelder]

“I've done nothing wrong, I intend nothing wrong. I am innocent!"

"Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do nothing wrong. It's not enough to refrain from evil, Trell. People have to attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed."

"Even when it's stupid to try?" he asked with savage sarcasm.

"Especially then," she replied sweetly. "That's how it's done, Trell. You break your heart against this stony world. You fling yourself at it, on the side of good, and you do not ask the cost. That's how you do it."

"Do what?" he demanded, truly angry now. "Get myself killed? For the sake of being a hero?"

"Perhaps," she conceded. "Perhaps that. But it is definitely how you redeem yourself. How you become a hero." She cocked her head and eyed him appraisingly. "Don't tell me vou've never wanted to be the hero."

“I’ve never wanted to be the hero," he defied her. Paragon was still cursing someone defiantly. He sounded drunken and rambling. Brashen turned his head, to stare at the ship. The yellow glow of firelight danced on his chopped face. What did this woman expect of him? There was nothing he could do to help the ship, nothing he could do to help any-one. "All I ever wanted to do was live my own life. And I'm having damn little success at that." She laughed low.

"Only because you keep standing back from it. And turning aside from it. And avoiding it." She shook her head. "Trell, Trell. Open your eyes. This horrible mess is your life. There is no sense in waiting for it to get better. Stop putting it off and live it." She laughed again.

Her eyes and voice seemed to go afar. "Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. But almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath and not scream for as long as it takes to die. True courage is facing life without flinching. I don't mean the times when the right path is hard, but glorious at the end. I'm talking about enduring the boredom, and the messiness, and the in convenience of doing what is right." She cocked her head and considered him. "I think you can do that, Trell”

“Stop calling me that," he hissed. His surname was like salt in a wound. She suddenly gripped his wrist. "No. You stop. Stop thinking you're the son your father disowned. You're not who he expected you to be; that doesn't mean you aren't some. body. Nor are you perfect. Stop using every mistake vou make as an excuse to fail completely."

He jerked his wrist free of her grip. "Who are you, to speak to me of these things? What are you, to even know these things?" With chagrin, he finally realized the only possible source of her knowledge. Althea had been talking about him. How much had she told Amber? He looked in her face and knew. Althea had told her everything. Everything. He turned and walked swiftly away from her. He wished the darkness could completely swallow him.

"Brashen? Brashen!" She hissed out the call.

He kept walking.

"Where will you go, Trell?" It was a hoarse cry in the darkness. "Where will you go to get away from yourself?"

Mad ship Pg. 329-330

[the1975attheirverybest]

I honestly hate the state of cancel culture right now. Celebrities are people. People are fallible and say stupid shit sometimes. People sometimes hold bad views and change. But now suddenly nobody can make a mistake without being the literal devil and being chased off the internet. Like, I get it for serious crimes and blatant repeated bigotry, but making a few stupid mistakes every now and then is just a part of the human condition. Celebrities are not paragons of morality, they are humans, who make mistakes, and expecting them to be anything else is unfair.

-🦝

EXACTLY BESTIE 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 someone once explained it to me this way: if a close friend of yours said something slightly tone-deaf, and you cared about them, you wouldn’t get up and walk out of the room and ghost them forever. You would explain to them why what they said is problematic, have a convo, and if an apology is necessary, they apologize, and we move past it!

It reminded me once when I was 18, I made a stereotypical joke without knowing it was offensive. In that VERY moment, in the middle of a bookstore, I was with my best friend buying stuff, and she turned to me and said “I love you, but I want you to know what you said is fucked up cuz it’s making fun of wheelchair users.” I paused to think about it, realized that it was actually shitty. Promised to never do it again, and we went about our day. To this day, her kindness is what I keep in mind when educating people. And this happened when I was 18- so 2013. Way before performative wokeness and shit.

I don’t know why we don’t treats each other and celebs with the same kind of compassion. Nobody’s perfect. Nobody knows all the right things all the time. Everyone makes mistakes. When did we decide to forget that???

I said that to a fan once when the podcast nightmare broke out. They were like “I don’t owe him shit!” I know they think it’s a good comeback but….DONT YOU? Don’t you owe your fellow man the benefit of the doubt??! Don’t you owe this artist who has gone out of his way to speak up on stuff that most celebrities cowardly stay quiet about some respect???? Don’t we owe each other the bare minimum???

Idk man. It’s sad. But I’m over it. People act all holy and shit just to feel good about themselves. It’s sad.

[candyskiez]

Exactly three people have asked. Hello. You all have made a terrible mistake. (/lh)

I will say this is probably very biased to my own interpretation of ???% that I yell about with my friend a lot, so may not be the most accurate take in the world. But I'm gonna dissect ???% and Teru's dynamic under a microscope anyways, so. Prepare for potential inaccuracies, I'm just shaking them around here. Here's some incoherent bullet points. Maybe I will refine this later. Also for the sake of my sanity, I'm calling ???% Shigeo. Okay? Okay.

• Shigeo is shown to have a bit of a static view of people. If his initial impression of someone is good, they are Good. This will not change. His first memories of Ritsu are sweet and loving and gentle, so he refuses to see him as anything other than his little brother. His first impression of Tsumobi is good, so he holds onto that shred of kindness for years and nurtures it into a crush and then love, over the basic human respect she showed him when they were like. Five. And Reigen wasn't Perfect when they first met, so in Shigeo's eyes he's Bad. And Teru he's arguably the most obviously hating. He also has no room for nuance, because while Mob has had the opportunity to grow throughout the show, Shigeo has only been exposed to the absolute worst of people since he only gets to come out when Mob's in danger. He hasn't been able to grow. He's stuck in survival mode because Mob kind of trapped him there by repressing him.

• Teru is trapped in survival mode when we first see him. Teru cannot grow and see the good in people for a very long time. He has only been exposed to the worst in people.

• This black and white world view is also shown in Teru, although a different kind. For Shigeo, it's Good and Bad. For Teru it's Special and Worth Nothing. After losing to Mob, Teru's world view becomes Nobody Is Worth Anything, but Mob is kind.

• Teru's response to Mob being kind to him when it goes against his world view that everyone's out to get him, when it maybe suggests he's been wrong or too much, is to attack Mob brutally.

• Shigeo's response to people behaving outside of his perception of them is to either leave and go away from the sudden confusing emotions or attack. Shigeo's response to Teru not hating him like expected once he shows him what he's "really like" is to keep attacking and trying to show him that no, he isn't a moral paragon. Shigeo's response to Ritsu giving him unexpected kindness was to send him away. His response to Reigen was to fling him around. He cannot wrap his head around the idea of people being kind to him.

• Teru responds to seeing himself in Mob with trying to destroy the potential weakness. Shigeo tries to destroy anything and anyone that could weaken him from his goal. They both tried to get rid of "weaknesses", damaging their own connections which were what they both desperately wanted, out of fear of being used, cast aside, etc.

• The whole thing of that Shigeo vs Teru fight is that Teru is suddenly faced with who he used to be, reflected at him through the person he idolizes most. He's forced to grapple with the fact that the person he adores is flawed, that putting him on a pedestal is wrong and that his savior isn't a savior, he's just some guy who happened to be kind. And he's faced with the fact that being Good isn't some static thing. He realizes through these flaws that...he still cares about him. That hasn't changed. He's able to feel sympathy for him. And because Shigeo is so much like him, this is a realization that he's still stuck in that same world view, thats just become nobody's worth anything but Mob. And he finally breaks out of it.

• Teru is saved by realizing that Worthy and Unworthy aren't determined by anything. By seeing someone he loves so much being flawed, he finally realizes that you can be worthy with flaws. Because he still loves him even at his worst, even after seeing all he's been holding in, and he understands. He finally understands. He sees himself in Shigeo, and realizes that they're equals. They are the same. He finally casts aside the pedestal and is able to see everyone as equals.

• Shigeo is saved by Reigen breaking out of his assumption of him. He'd perceived Reigen as just Liar. No nuance. He lied, that is who he is. Reigen being genuine, showing Shigeo that things could CHANGE, is what saved him. Teru and Shigeo were both saved by the realization that the world isn't static. You're not either Worthy or Unworthy, in Teru's case. It's no longer "nobody is worth anything", but "everyone's inherently worth something, even if no one's special." And in Shigeo's case, people aren't either perfect or cruel and horrible.

• They both have black and white views of the people around them. They both have a mix of hero worship and resentment towards people in their life. What finally lets them be ready to heal is casting aside that black and white world view, realizing that things are complicated. Teru couldn't heal until he could realize that everyone's equal, and Shigeo couldn't heal until he realized that not everyone's out to get him and sometimes people can just ...care about him and not be perfect. Teru and Shigeo are both brought back by realizing people can change. That people can be flawed but still good.

• God!!! I will never get over how the end of Teru's character arc is the person he idolizes acting like HIM! Doing everything he did to him! And by seeing himself in the person he idolizes he can finally realize his flaws and he can finally realize the idea of flaws = worthless is wrong and unfair.

• And Shigeo realizing that someone can care about him too, not just Mob, even if they hurt him. By Reigen relating to him. By Reigen connecting to him. By seeing himself in Reigen.

• They both finally get the closure for a hurt that's been eating away at them for so long by seeing themself in someone else. Do you hear me. Do you h

This makes no sense I know but. I like them very much your honor. I swear this makes so much sense in my head but I'm too tired to fully explain. Dude it makes so much sense in my head.

(Don't tag this as reimob. Everything I say about Reigen and Mob or Shigeo is strictly platonic. 🔫)

Ask me about Teru and ???% similarities guys I don't bite I won't start destroying stuff I swear I will be so normal I will be so normal about this show. I am so normal over them. Guys I promise I will be so normal. Come closer.

[echo-of-sounds]

pregnancy

Small headcanons of how Aizawa, Toshinori, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog would be through your pregnancy.

I don’t write about giving birth (as I’m mildly terrified of doing so) so I didn’t add anything about that. Please don’t ask for me to. And even though I’m not interested in getting pregnant, I think I’d be okay with it if Kugo or Ryo were the father.

EDIT: I love picturing all of these men with little girls. It’s just so cute!

Warnings: uh, pregnancy

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta isn’t one to jump for joy when you tell him. However, you will get to see his handsome smile when he grabs your waist, breathing out a light laugh of happiness as he tightly hugs you. His smile won’t disappear for a while. Every time he glances at you, one simply finds its way onto his face.

It may not be by a whole lot, but his behavior changes. Just a little. When you’re out and about, his hand finds its way to your back or elbow much more often, particularly in a crowd. It’s the paternal instincts kicking in. His favorite cuddling position, laying between your legs with his head on your stomach, becomes harder the farther along you are. He adjusts to laying behind you, keeping a hand on your tummy throughout the entire night.

Shouta hides his worries well. Even the people closest to him have a tough time telling what exactly is going on with him. Sometimes, it’s a good thing. He’s a stable person to lean on. But it’s difficult to deal with when you’re hormonal and emotional. He pushes himself so hard to speak more. There’s no way of him understanding everything you’re going through, but when he opens up, he can tell just how much you appreciate it during the tough times. So he does it near-daily, checking in with each other before bed.

He hates how busy his life is. Well, he’s always kind of hated it. Now it’s worse because his partner’s pregnant, and he’s stuck in a room with screaming children when he should be bringing you to your appointments. Shouta attempts to make up for the absence by heading home every night and helping around the house more. Step in. Explain how you value his help, but also need him to relax. If he gets overworked, that would only stress you more.

Shouta changes his eating habits and fitness routines. He wants you to eat well for yourself and your child. He wants you to keep exercising for yourself and your child. He simply wants your body to be healthy. Don’t grumble because he’ll throw your complaining back in your face when the Lamaze coach explains how important physical health is. But don’t worry, his cute smile makes up for the teasing.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori is starstruck. Too many thoughts flood and fight. He loves children and has always wanted a family. Being able to father one with you is indescribable. And he never thought the universe would grant any of that. On the flip side, his fear is also undefinable. People know who he is now; who knows what’s out there, waiting to expose All Might’s weakness. The rapid thoughts may bring a tear or two. Cup his face and kiss them away, reassuring him that everything’s okay.

The fears follow him throughout your pregnancy. Like all things (with you and him), there are good days and bad days. His emotions ramp-up during your emotional and physically unwell days. He tries his best to push them down to focus on you. But they eventually end up spilling over. It’ll be common for both of you to cry at the end of the day, snuggled together, talking about the future, worries, and anticipations.

In general, Toshinori isn’t that protective. He trusts you and your abilities. Just because you’re pregnant, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly disabled. You can still do things. Although, he does become a bit of a helicopter. Whenever you bend over to pick up a bag, he beats you to it. He swoops the laundry basket from your hands, claiming, ‘You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,’ despite it not even being ten pounds. He’s just very watchful of your movements.

He’s very active in dieting, doctor’s appointments, and planning. He eats well, so it’s easy for him to aid you in that respect. For doctors, he has quite a lot of contacts and knows many doctors from his time in the hospital. He asks around, only accepting the best for you. Planning, shopping, and setting up the nursery are his favorite parts. He loves choosing the sweetest colors, softest blankets, and, of course, all the adorable All Might onesies, toys, and superhero books he can find. The nursery is set up perfectly.

Toshinori doesn’t admit how incredibly your pregnant body enchants him. It isn’t always a horny, sexual need. It’s about admiring your body and what it’s creating. He just wonders at you. All the time. Sometimes the changes may make you feel insecure. He’s always there to listen and assure you how amazing your body is. If you want cuddles and kisses, he’ll give them with a smile. If you want gentle lovemaking, he guides you onto your back and gives you exactly what you want.

Yamada Hizashi

Expect a loud song of love, a bear hug, and jumping for joy when you tell him. Hizashi loves kids. He thinks they’re amazing and say some of the greatest things. And he’s beyond excited to see their quirk. Of course, it doesn’t mean he’ll love them any less if they’re born quirkless. He just loves imagining a little one with a similar quirk running around your place.

He is all about redecorating and planning. The entire apartment is getting babyfied and rearranged. The nursery will be beautifully painted. He regularly comes home with cute outfits and stuffed animals. Partly, it’s because he’s just so excited. The other part is he wants you to relax through the pregnancy. No stress, pressure, and unnecessary burden on your shoulders. He’s there to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

Hizashi doesn’t just spoil your unborn child; he spoils you, buying you those pregnancy pillows, your favorite ice cream, driving you everywhere, etc… He just hates how much time his jobs take. He’d rather spend his time with you. To help, he’ll ask for time off of patrols, choosing to be closer with you, physically, mentally, and emotionally, during your pregnancy.

In the later months, Hizashi is all over you. Seriously, he will not leave you alone. He’s very handsy, kneading and licking your swollen, sore breasts, and stroking your belly. Your body, and everything it’s doing, is utterly gorgeous to him. He’ll suck away, gently nursing on your nipple while dozing off to Tv, occasionally switching to the other so it isn’t left needy.

Toyomitsu Taishiro

When you tell Taishiro, you’ll only be able to get out a few words before you’re lifted off your feet and spun around. He smooches all over your face, laughing and cheering about how amazing and perfect and stunning you are. You’ll have to ask to be put down lest you get sick from all his spinning. But his compliments keep coming. They won’t dwindle for a while. There’s just too much love in his body to keep inside.

Whatever you’re craving, no matter if it’s pineapple dipped in ketchup, he gives without complaint. He may try some of your odd combinations. Who knows? You could be on to something new. At the same time, he also watches out for your health. The cravings suck. He understands that. He truly does. But if you ate something sweet/not as healthy for lunch, then he plans a healthy dinner for you. Your body’s going crazy. It needs its nutrients.

Your worries are always taken seriously. It could be the most absurd thing to be anxious over. Tai always listens. His cute smile and never-ending positivity help a ton. Your body and brain are going through a lot. He’ll do his part to validate all your feelings. He talks down the anxieties as you eat pickles on ice cream, making sure you are and feel heard.

Since he works one job compared to the others, he’s able to be with you much more, notably during the hard-to-handle days and at appointments. And he picks up extra chores so you can rest through aches and pains. Any choices you make regarding your pregnancy and birth, he supports. He may not agree with everything, but he loves you, and it’s your body. He’ll always put your comfort and wishes first.

Tai treasured your tummy before. But now, seeing you growing with his child, he’s absolutely enraptured. He places nightly and morning kisses on your belly. When he wakes you up, his kisses trail down to the bump. Every night, he rubs lotion into your tummy, kissing and cooing to his child. It doesn’t matter if you’re only one week pregnant, and it’s just a clump of cells in there. Tai still sings to them.

Gang Orca

Kugo is in disbelief when you tell him. He freezes, staring, hardly hearing your words. Give him five minutes. He’ll process what you said and snap back to the present. Watch out because you’re going to get lifted high into the air and maybe tossed like a father does a baby. He’s just practicing. It’ll only take one or two days for him to slip into paternal mode. It’s damn near instinct for him.

As per usual, he’s a gentle paragon behind closed doors. Throughout your pregnancy, he melts into a puddle of sweet honey. His overall affection skyrockets. His hands and claws are as tender as possible whenever they touch you, doing whatever you need him to: massaging your back and legs, rubbing lotion all over, or brushing your hair. He reassures you through tears. He prepares healthy meals that satisfy your cravings. And he holds you all night, keeping you safe on his chest and in his arms.

Kugo goes to every single checkup and appointment. It doesn’t matter if it’s just an ordinary visit to your primary care doctor; he calls out of work and goes with you. At any ultrasounds, expect a few tears, especially when you hear the heartbeat for the first time. He holds them in until you’re alone. The second the door closes, his forehead is nudging yours as small, loved-filled tears fall. He never thought he’d get a family. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve a family, but you’ve proven that false repeatedly.

The farther along you are, the more he watches out for you. He checks in every morning to make sure you took your medicine and vitamins. He washes you so you don’t strain yourself. If you’re waddling, he offers his arm for support and helps you stand. If your back hurts, he applies a heating patch to your lower back and puts your shoes on for you. If you need it, he can carry you to the car and into where you’re going.

As does everyone, Kugo has doubts about his quirk and abilities. People have always viewed those with mutations differently. And it can affect their health, leading to numerous doctor visits and tests. He doesn’t want his baby to deal with the staring, whispers, self-doubts, and distress he did. To support him, talk in detail about his fears and help him realize he’s never disappointed you or hurt anyone. Kugo’s exactly how he should be.

Hound Dog

Ryo doesn’t have a tail, but you’ll definitely see a little happy wiggly before he hugs you. The following week, he keeps you close as he acts differently: rubbing up against you to ensure you smell like him, touching your nose with his, lapping along your neck, sleeping incredibly close, and occasionally smelling between your legs, licking the air around there to smell better. It’s awkward, almost weird, since it isn’t average ‘human’ behavior. But if you love him, let him do it. Please. Understand his nose works differently. It reassures and comforts him to smell you, checking in to see if anything’s changed.

Ryo gets protective when you’re on your period: When you’re pregnant, it’s so, so incredibly worse. He hovers, grumbling low at those walking by. Others barely hear it. It’s intense enough for you to feel it when he’s behind you. He doesn’t like people running up to you, or startling you, or roughhousing or playing in any way. He’s lenient with children, less with teens. Women get a deep growl and scowl. God help any man that approaches you. You might have to have him wear his Hero outfit’s muzzle until you give birth. Though, that might not help because then he’d be protective of two people.

It’s only the teensiest amount better at home. He makes you rest, almost too much. After work or some time outside, he shuffles you to the couch so you can’t overwork yourself. He’s a pleasant change of pace from his typical gruff self. However, as great as he is at the physical needs, he still struggles with the emotional aspects. You can cry on his shoulder, complain, and talk about your worries all you need to. He’s just a bit clunky when it comes to reciprocating the soft emotions. But he puts all his heart into it, and it’s easy to tell.

Ryo is also one who loves pregnancy sexy. You’re swollen and sensitive, and he loves watching your breasts bounce, maybe even leak a little depending on how far along you are. And since you’re already pregnant, he releases and stays inside. After, he lays behind you, keeping himself deep in you despite being flaccid, just feeling how wet and aroused and full you are because of him. When the heated moment is finally done, he licks you clean, nearly getting drunk off your smell.

[the-nysh]

I understand the animosity of the heroes who were beating up Garou. Not all but some were minding their own business going about the day and suddenly this 18-year-old nobody came up and assaulted them and they were understandably pissed about it.

When they chose to vindictively gang up on him in numbers (not all of them Garou had even interacted with before; he primarily chose his targets for one-on-one 'fair' bouts) after he was already down, beaten, and no longer even fighting back? :3 (Guess what Garou has never liked since his childhood~)

Even if you could maybe understand where they were coming from, by simply venting their anger/frustrations as a group out of personal self-satisfaction or a sense of honor, or targeting the last 'monster' left alive to eliminate (as SM), but as heroes?? The point is all that behavior, enacted within their own self-interests, is unbecoming of heroes wielding that type of violence around in the name of 'justice'. Especially when it veers into biased territory, for then it's no longer impartial/'fair' justice, is it. :O Which should make you take pause and think. (Cause it's the same thing Saitama was criticized for in his battle - maybe we can understand their personal anger; but as model heroes it becomes morally careless, selfish & irresponsible.) So we should never just blindly accept that heroes are perfect paragons of enforcing 'goodness' (Genos I'm looking at you in concern...) as deference to authority figures like that becomes dangerous.

And sadly this only affirms Garou's grievances & expectations right about their conduct. Aww man. ;o; (Even Metal Bat knew better.) So even just morally, and even vs those who took no action as bystanders simply letting it happen, Tareo & King put them all to shame. (So I understand why Garou left off feeling 'sickened' by heroes once again....aaaah;; if anything it only continues his fuel knowing where the true justice vs injustices in this world still need to be changed.)

[dianapocalypse]

so I’m having a very interesting (for me) mass effect legendary edition playthru and i wanna talk about it even tho no one but me will be interested so UNDER THE CUT WE GO!

this probably isn’t interesting to anyone but me but I wanted to write it down for posterity lol

so this time around, I spent a LONG TIME staring at the character creator, not even making anything. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make my ‘main’ Shepard, play Jane just for the new model in ME1, or make a new Shep entirely. and if I did the last one, did I want to play differently this time??

i ended up making a shepard that was PRETTY similar to my main one. they’re both vanguards (didn’t want to learn a new kit bc my ability to hold a controller is pretty limited these days), both earthborn, same haircut but different overall appearances. this time I went war hero instead of sole survivor, since I’ve played those sidequests so many times at this point. I hit start and named her Kieran, not really knowing what I was going for with this shep and expecting I’d mostly make the same choices, romance garrus, etc

so the first few hours of the game I played p much like I always do. more paragon options than usual, but I attribute that more to me changing than character choices. I also started picking the middle options I always ignore just to see what they are. grabbed Liara, did bring down the sky, nothing new or unusual until I start talking to garrus.

is it just me, or does garrus.... kinda hit different in 2021? don’t get me wrong, still one of my favorite fictonal characters of all time, but also... garrus is a loose canon police officer who thinks regulations that, presumably, are in place to protect peoples’ rights, should be ignored for what he deems is the greater good. while we as players know garrus’s morals are in the right place, uh... if I met someone like that in real life I’d expect them to be a complete jackass. im also american so that contributes to my ill feelings towards police officers, and c-sec in the games is generally portrayed as being a much less awful organization than the american police state, but I’ve definitely gone from always supporting Garrus when he thinks a fucker needs to die to being like... garrus rules are there for a reason, people have RIGHTS

and then like. kieran shepard is earthborn, she was in gangs. she... probably doesn’t like cops either? my last shep was, too, but tbh I didn’t think about it all that much. for the first time I’m playing a shepard that does not trust garrus and that’s WILD.

so then I’m doing sidequests on the citadel, and earthborns get a gang member from their past who tries to blackmail shep into busting one of their members out of prison. for the first time ever, I actually didn’t have the paragon or renegade points necessary to resolve the situation in a ‘good’ way for me. I got to the end of it, and my only options were to bribe him to leave me alone, or shoot him.

i’ll say in my defense, I thought shoot him would be more ‘shoot him in the leg to show him i meant business’, but shep straight up killed him, and I was like, woah. I’m gonna have to figure out how to make THAT work with this character arc!

and the turian cop who he wants you to talk to, he’s right there, and says “wow, I guess maybe the first human spectre will get things done!’ or something, indicating like. that was the Right Thing To Do by his standards. just kill a dude in public for threatening blackmail.

so in role playing games, i try to justify decisions my characters make, even if it’s a decision that I didn’t make on purpose--it’s more fun for me to try to gather these disparate character choices and cohere them into a character than to try to get it ‘right’ for the character i’m playing, if that makes sense. so here, even tho I was definitely not intending to kill that dude, I wanted to find a way to make it work for Kieran Shepard. and it’s kinda ended up shaping the whole way I’m playing her, and it’s cool and interesting bc this is a shepard unlike any I’ve played before! i’m always so focused on min/maxing my character, especially their paragon/renegade points to get the ‘best’ outcomes, that ive never been faced with something like that.

so I think this is where I’ve landed:

Kieran Shepard grows up on the streets, she does not trust authority. all she has is her crew, and herself, more importantly. she does some bad shit, she gets into trouble, she’s strong-headed and stubborn. later in life, she gets recruited to the alliance military. frankly, I think she keeps a lot of the same attitude and distrust of authority, but this is a paycheck, and I think since the Tenth Street Reds are getting really human supremacist and xenophobic, she gets out and needs to go Somewhere that her past won’t follow her--space. off earth.

mostly she’s a shithead at first. gets into trouble with the brass all the time. but she’s got a really good head for tactics. she knows how to think like a merc gang, she thinks of strategies in simulations that higher ups wouldn’t ever consider. think like. star trek 2009 captain kirk basically lmao.

and then anderson gets a hold of her. for the first time in her life, she has like, a Parental Figure, someone who knows she can do better and expects her to. and she FLOURISHES. suddenly she’s got motivation, she’s straightening up. she’s positioned on elysium and the skyllian blitz starts, and one thing she knows how to do, something she’s always been good at, it surviving, and rallying people around her to fight, not roll over and die. her skills from her life as a gangster marry with her skills as a soldier and she rallies the colonists to beat back the invasion. with her STREET SMARTS!

now she’s a war hero, and she’s starting to feel the impostor syndrome set in. she gets a medal, she gets accolades, promotions--she’s just a scrappy former criminal and she doesn’t deserve this. she doesn’t deserve any of it, or anderson’s regard. she starts spending her time trying to be The Perfect Soldier to make up for her past. for the first time, it’s a point of embarrassment to her, not a point of pride. it’s public record, sure, but she needs her entire existence to refute it. she needs to be Commander Shepard now, she needs to be The First Human Spectre, she needs to be PERFECT.

and then Finch shows up, and he’s threatening her, he wants to drag her back into the Life and he’ll blackmail her if she doesn’t comply. she knows if she bribes him he’ll be back in a month for more, he’ll never stop. so she panics. she shoots this guy, kills him in cold blood, in public. old habits die hard. and the cop practically CONGRATULATES her for it.

kieran, now, is in full blown panic mode about Who She Is. she is very much not a fan of the ‘law and order’ of C-Sec, but she’s also not a fan of the spectres and how they operate, but now she’s becoming the thing she as a teen would have hated the most. and she’s being congratulated for it. can she be trusted with this kind of responsibility?? can anyone???

anyway that’s the last thing I did but I think... honestly? the only character that could help her sort out these feelings? is kaidan alenko.

so. i think this is it. this is the playthru i finally romance kaidan.

[long-after-love]

On Ankles

Renowned Japanese modern author Tanizaki Jun'ichiro wrote a novella named Fumiko's Feet. There is not much going on in this novella, just an old man who fell madly in love with his mistress Fumiko, whose feet were extraordinarily beautiful. This is the stuff made by and for people with foot fetish. If I had foot fetish I already knew where to find my porn. But ankles?

Fig.1: Some eye-candy ankles found in India (1968)

I do appreciate beautiful feet, but I wonder if there is anything out there made for people with ankle fetish, because regrettably I have to say that I do have ankle fetish. The thing is, you may never know if you have any weird fetish until the day you discover something that awakes yours. It's something I'd rather not know about myself, because it eats away my sanity. I developed a weird habit of looking at people's ankles, and it's not very common to find beautiful ankles. The first perfect ankle I've ever seen belongs to a man named Paul McCartney. That left a sense of loss in me.

Now you may ask, what makes a beautiful ankle? As some wise man said, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, I suppose I do not have any authority to set up beauty standards for ankles. As you know, they come in all shapes and sizes, and like facial features, they have to achieve certain proportion with other neighboring body parts like the foot, the shin, the calf to make themselves stand out.

Fig.2: The pair of teasing ankles in the front. Bonus ankles in the back.

God knows how many times I stared at this gif, marveled at this ankle. Well, at first glance you can tell that it's so small. You don't expect small ankles from men, or to be precise, you don't expect from men any kind of ankles. If they have cankles, ok, maybe you might take notice of really prominent cankles, but you never noticed men's ankles. Most of the time they hide behind pants and socks, if not, they're always on the periphery of your sight.

So when you see one ankle, for some weird reason, taking the spotlight, you unwillingly ponder its shape. If this ankle didn't belong to Paul McCartney I'd love it still because it's the paragon of what I call a beautiful ankle.

I said that knowing this ankle belongs to Paul McCartney left me a sense of loss. It sounds ridiculous but let me explain. Say, you suddenly came across an unknown ankle, so gorgeous that you took a photo of it and showed it to your friends. "Hey, what do you think of it, such a lovely ankle, right? I took this photo because I thought I saw the loveliest ankle ever." Your friend might think you were a little bit weird, but they'd admit that you were right.

Fig.3: The ankle(TM) being a bit modest behind socks with guest appearance of the majestic Martha

Now, since this ankle belongs to a very famous person, no one will take you seriously. First, they'd think you're obsessed with the famous person, that fact alone should negate everything you say. Second, even if they admit it's a good-looking ankle, they won't realize how truly beautiful it is. Why? Because they don't have an ankle fetish and they never noticed how uncommon this type of dainty ankle is. They only think this ankle is worth noticing because it is Paul McCartney’s.

It is a sad reality for me.

[voidselfshipp]

You deserve better

Cw: food ment and shitty parent ment.

Ok to rb.

Summmary: after a bad fight with his dad, Brandon aka paragon goes to find solace in his ever present friend,and crush, jerico aka the inmovable heart.

Jerico wasnt expecting any visitors that day, she was sitting on the roof of her appartment, can of soda in hand with some music in the background.

She saw the shadow of a Man from the Fire exit, he was inside her house.

She picks up her things and runs inside, using her powers to make her fists like rock.

She butts into her house ready to punch the intruder, she stops two centemeters from his face.

--bRANDON!-- shouted jer turning her fists to normal-- Jesus christ you scared me! I thought you were a burglar...!

She closes the door as her superheroe friend just sighs-- me and dad had a fight and I stormed off, can I stay for a bit?

She nodds sighing softly giving him a hug.

He hugs back tightly-- youre one of the few that havent died on me...

--I heard about blackstar, you did good

-- not enough for my dad apparently...

Both break the hug and sit on her sofá, she sits closer taking his hand.

--you know how he is,but you did good, im sorry he fails to see that , you tried your best

He nodds leaning on her-- god, what would I do without you?

He Snickered and she quickly went to the kitchen, grabbing plenty of snacks and drinks for them to play some videogames.

It helped to get Brandons mind off of his fight with his dad, jerico never failed when it came to cheer him up.

Her superheroe days are behind Her, though shortlived, she did a lot of good.

She wasnt aligned with his fathers League, she was but a mere secret amongst her Friends, between them Brandon. Her childhood friend.

Utopian never found out, he was sure to cut all ties with them if he found out about her alter-ego.

Yet,paragon was always there for her when she needed it.

-- oh Man! We died again!--complained jerico, throwing the joystick on the table.

--lets take a break okay?--suggested Brandon putting an arm around her and pulling her closer.

Theres a silence that lasts some minutes, just the two of them taking a breather.

Suddenly he Snickers-- remember when we kicked those bank Robbers near that waffle house we used to go?

She giggles-- yep, they were pretty scared when you threw me at em

--if I remember correctly you said 'YEET' as I threw you

--Heh that I did!

Both chuckle and he looks away-- yknow, the nickname we have you still applies

-- come on, "the inmovable heart" is pretty cheesy

Brandon looks at her with his brows raised--but im right though, you never back down, and even when things are at their worst you seem unphased by it

-- maybe it comes with the powers

He tilts his head-- jerico, dont diminish yourself

-- look im just saying, im used to be planted in one place, And survive, thats how I got here, im helping those who cant find a rock to lean on when things get rough

He leans in,and she does the same-- and for that ill be forever greatfull jerico, youre an amazing friend...-- brandons voice breaks a little-- I just wish we were...-- they are centemeters appart-- more--

Just as they are about to kiss, they hear a loud noise coming from the outside ,and paragon hears a voice he feared to.

--Brandon!-- shouted the utopian, brandons father-- get down from there right now!

Jerico sighs-- utopian has horrible timing

Neither answer the calls until they become too much.

--i have to go-- he said.

--no, you dont have to

Brandon whispers some not so nice things under his breath and both walk down to the street where his father was

-- didnt I tell you to work the farm!?--sheldon shouted.

-- and Keep me grounded? I understand what I did was wrong! I learnt my lesson!

--you Killed! Thats against the code!

--i did my best!

--no!you didnt!

--Oh for the love of-- jerico stomped to both of them separating father from son-- he did his best!

-- stay out of It!-- said the utopian.

--no! I wont!-- jer screamed back-- you Keep mincing every attempt he makes, he did what he thought was best! You dont mind that because hes not perfect, I know a shitty parent when I see one, ive Dealt with one my whole life! Youre never going to see what paragon does because you dont care!

Newsflash asshole people arent perfect and we arent meant to be perfect, Brandon is a good Man, hes perfect just the way he is, moral code or not your just a shitty parent!-- theres a bit or silence that she uses to Keep talking-- the utopian is such a good name for you, fits Like a FUCKING glove , you think of yourself as perfect? Theres no such thing, you are just another narcisistic, Holier than thou asshole

The utopian, mad as he could get tries to shove her away, but he cant, he looks down at jericos feet, covered by the ground, even with his powers he couldnt get her to move

Brandon tears up as she shileds him from his dad.

--try and move me, itll be the last thing youll do

-- dont threaten me kid

-- just a warning,now leave us alone

The utopian looks at his son-- youre really going to be with someone as foolish as her?

Brandon nodds grabbing jericos hand-- yes, yes I Will, shes the only one that treats me like an actual human

The utopian ends up leaving.

They get inside the appartment and collapse on the sofa.

-- thank you for standing up for me-- said Brandon hugging her.

--i couldnt Keep seeing you suffering like that...

They stay silent for a while, he then pushed her closer to him and smiled.

--Where were we?

She kisses him, her arms against his chest and him hugging her waist.

--hey-- said jerico-- if your dad gets that angry again come here, text me tho, just so I dont knock you out on accident...

--seeing how he was I migbt end up getting kicked out of the house

-- If that happends then, know theres a home for you here

He nodds--thank you

He kisses her again-- how about a shower and then we Keep playing?

She nodds standing up-- race you to the bathroom! And no cheating Brandon!

He laughs,and they run into the bathroom.

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun - Chapter 11 (Arceus, Forgive Me)

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun on FFN

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun on AO3

Pokémon Retold (series) on AO3

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

Gladion truly had no idea just how thin the walls of that motel were until that morning. He awoke to the sound of a high-pitched squeal, followed by almost manic laughter. At first, he thought to merely ignore it—it wasn’t like that motel was the perfect image of safety—but his Riolu, Vitalis, scrabbled at the door and whined like his life depended on getting outside. His frantic attention to the door woke Null as well as Gladion’s other pokémon, who quickly took interest in the door, too. Groaning, Gladion leapt out of bed, knowing that Null would need supervision now that he was awake if nothing else. His Sneasel, Zorua, and Porygon weren’t exactly paragons of obedience, either, and he didn’t trust that door against their combined forces.

Daring to peek through the tiny window in his motel room’s door, he heard another shriek and more laughter, and saw a group of people converging on someone else. The details were difficult to make out from their obscuring, dark clothes as well as the occasional flurry of rain. Even so, he noticed a midday Lycanroc trotting around them, as well as a Crabrawler pounding the earth with its fists just a little beyond them. Gladion caught a glint of silver from between the gathered people in black and then they separated just enough for him to see that it was the same small girl from Po Town he had seen playing with a Sliggoo the day before. She was on her knees, caked from the waist down in mud, but the signature Skull Gang medal hung around her neck, the off-white hat pulled over her head, all enough for him to identify her even from this distance. Suddenly, the Lycanroc lunged at her, snapping fangs dangerously close to her face; she brought her hands up in front of her and squealed. The people in black just laughed, chattering away to one another in Alolan faster than Gladion could hope to keep up. He swore the Lycanroc laughed, too, as it barked in rapid, high-pitched succession, prancing around her trembling frame proudly.

Feeling a rush of anger and anticipation, Gladion scrambled to throw himself properly together, decidedly omitting his own Skull Gang apparel from his getup. He may not have wanted to feel that close to Skull, but the fact of the matter was, she was a young girl regardless of her allegiances. He knew what it was like to be at the mercy of vindictive adults and he was not about to leave her to them. She didn’t deserve whatever they were about to do, whereas those men deserved a world of hurt for ganging up on her.

Recalling his pokémon, he flew out the door, forgetting to close it, and hollered at the gathered people. As they whipped around to look at him, he realized they were all men, native Alolan, looking to be no older than thirty at the most. Even that seemed like a stretch. One of them curled his lip at Gladion and spat at the ground. “You got somethin’ to say?” he asked tauntingly, patting his chest in a clear indication that he was ready for a fight. Gladion wasn’t sure why he would have done that… It wasn’t like people tended to engage in fistfights that often when pokémon battles were available, and they clearly had at least the Lycanroc and the Crabrawler.

The little girl froze as she spotted Gladion, shivering between her adrenaline and the frigidity of the mud and rain, and swallowed anxiously. Gladion pursed his lips and scowled at the gathered men. “Yeah. It’s called ‘pick on someone your own size,’” Gladion growled. “Girl’s no older than eight or nine. The hell are you doing attacking her? You’re grown men. Get lost.”

“Who are you s’posed to be?” another one of the men scoffed as his buddies laughed amongst themselves. “Missin’ your chains, lowly Rockruff. Ain’t you gotta wear your Skull colors? Show your nasty, heathen pride?”

“Who I am is, frankly, none of your goddamn business,” Gladion spat as he crossed his arms.

He realized a little too late that his choice in language was pushing it too far. That word carried an entirely different connotation on these islands. Whereas Galarians or Unovans would have waved off its use as particularly vulgar slang, Alolans saw it as using the Tapus’ names in vain, and coming from someone they believed had already forsaken them? He had just messed up, indeed.

The Lycanroc and Crabrawler turned their attention on him then, the former curling its lips into a cruel snarl, while the latter pummeled the earth uncomfortably close to his feet. The men shifted so they surrounded him instead of the little girl, moving in tandem like a school of prowling Basculin. “Say, when you say pick on someone our own size,” the first man came again coldly, “did ya mean someone like you, homeboy?”

Tensing at that, Gladion cut his eyes at the girl. “Go!” he hissed. Why are you still here? “Get back to Po Town. Now!”

She lurched, then looked frozen again momentarily, before leaping to her feet and sprinting away, throwing up dirt in her wake. The Lycanroc abruptly veered away from Gladion and raced after her. Panicking, he reached for Null’s Ultra Ball only to feel calloused hands latch onto his arms, the third man that hadn’t spoken yet snatching it from his grasp. Wrestling against their hold, Gladion ultimately pulled them all into the mud in a writhing pile of arms and legs, unable to see—and frankly, not sure if he would have wanted to, anyway—if the little girl had been caught by the Lycanroc or not. He furiously kicked and thrashed, even going as far as to snap his teeth at one’s ear that drew close to his face. His mind had cleaned itself of coherent thought and he was in sheer, plain survival mode.

“Get OFF of me!” Gladion howled when he found a moment to breathe, only to be met with a swift punch across his face for the remark. He wasn’t sure if it was from one of the men or their Crabrawler. Stunned, he fell limp and more blows befell his abdomen and ribcage, each one furthering the length of his temporary paralysis. It wasn’t long before he felt truly hopeless, curling into a ball against their blows, shuddering and praying it would end soon. Fleetingly, he wondered why they wouldn’t have wanted to battle him instead of this, or why they had attacked him at all, why they had ganged up on the young girl; of course, he knew the answer. The deep-seated Alolan hatred for the Skull Gang. Before that day, he hadn’t any idea just how pervasive and violent it could be. Above it all, though, he felt pathetic for having failed to defend himself so fantastically, because finding himself on the receiving end of blows was something he was familiar with. Sure, Lusamine’s occasional slaps and strikes couldn’t have held a candle to getting kicked around by three men and a Crabrawler, but the sheer inexplicable nature of her outbursts, the randomness of them, the exacerbated hatred in which she had regarded him following Lillie’s leave, had made them just as traumatic, had made this almost impossible to bear.

He just wanted it to stop. To just stop. He loathed that feeling of helplessness. It was something he had raged against in his rebellious escape from Aether Paradise. It was why he hated Lillie so deeply. She had abandoned him to Lusamine and to the capital punishment his mother was more than capable of dishing out… Yet, just like always, instead of violently defending himself, he was curled in the fetal position, taking their beating like the sorry sob he was. He hoped the girl had managed to escape the Lycanroc. At least that would have made it somewhat worth it, even if he was doubting his decision to get involved on her behalf by that point.

He was coughing and spluttering against the mud desperately for air when he faintly heard someone bellow, “Savage Spin-Out!”

The repetitive pressures in his side left him suddenly, even though pain still spasmed throughout his abdomen as his body came to the realization it was over. Blinking fervently against the flash of green light that played out overhead and shock, Gladion slowly realized that the men, plus their Crabrawler, had been knocked away from him, wrapped in thick, silken threads, and were unconscious. Exhaustedly fighting the mud to stand up, Gladion heaved for breath against stinging, agonizing lungs as he nervously traced the threads to find their source. Standing just a few feet away with his shoulders arched and a familiar midday Lycanroc slung over one of them, the little girl at his hip, and his Golisopod towering next to him, Guzma had a blank, cold stare on his face. He grunted in acknowledgment to Gladion, then tossed the Lycanroc to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Normally, such a sight might have made Gladion cringe, but he found it didn’t bother him that much then. That Lycanroc had been taught just as much prejudice as the men themselves had shown. Although it wasn’t its fault, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of righteousness, seeing it receive some retribution for its actions. It had been willing to maul a young girl, after all.

Stalking over to the fainted men and their Crabrawler, Guzma wrenched a hole open in the silken threads with a disgusting, wet crack!, retrieving Gladion’s Ultra Ball. Without turning to look, he flicked the Poké Ball back at Gladion, who unceremoniously scrambled to catch it from midair before it hit the mud. With a kick to one of the downed men’s crotches for good measure, Guzma spun around to face Gladion and huffed.

“Another rule,” he grumbled, “keep a pokémon out around ya if you’re gonna be pickin’ fights and don’t get close enough for people to grab ya.” Gesturing to the downed men, he added, “See that? They ain’t had a problem attackin’ a little girl. What makes ya think ya can get close to ‘em without ‘em hurtin’ you?”

Shaking his head tiredly, Gladion mumbled, “I don’t know…” I really don’t. I just… I didn’t expect that at all… He surreptitiously rubbed his right side. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck rather than just kicked a few times. Then again, that felt like nothing compared to his wounded pride, to the rush of shame at having been beaten so easily, even with Null at his side. What would Guzma think, seeing him get beaten down so easily? As much as he wanted to rebel against Skull thanks to Plumeria’s double-crossing nature he had seen the previous day, he hated the idea of being alone again even more.

As if picking up on his train of thought, Guzma snorted. “Don’t look like ‘at, chin up. Ya got jumped. Don’t matter what pokémon you have on ya if ya don’t remember to send ‘em out before shit gets ugly.” He cracked the slightest hint of a grin. “By the way, shitty form. Plumeria needs to teach you some methods of gettin’ outta situations like that, ‘cause I ain’t always gonna be there to save your ass. You was lucky I was headin’ outta Po Town and Lil’ua found me.” He paused, crossing his arms, and then sighed. His expression softened as he eyed the little girl, still standing dubiously a little away from him. She looked lost, as if everything that had happened was too much to process. Gladion sharply looked away from her and Guzma, staring at his shoes, finding he didn’t blame her. “But…” Guzma sighed, “I do wanna thank ya… Ya saw a Skull member in trouble and ya stepped in.” There was another long, grim pause. “That’s part o’ what bein’ in Skull means. Standin’ up for one another. Ain’t nobody got our backs out here but us. And you, Lil’ Aether, can have our backs real good… Anyway, Lil’ua?”

Gladion unconsciously started to pluck at his hair with his right hand as he heard the little girl muster a trembling voice. “Guzma, ae?”

“Start talkin’,” he heard Guzma bark, “where the hell is your Ma, and why the fuck was you out here alone?”

She floundered for a response, finally yelping, “W-was bored! Ma ain’t at Po Town right now… Went to Akala few days ago…”

“And she ain’t back?”

“No…”

“Figures…” Guzma muttered under his breath. “Still, you know fuckin’ better,” Guzma spat. Gladion heard the squelching of mud underfoot and winced as he accidentally wrenched one of the remaining locks of hair from the left side of his scalp. He snatched his right hand with his other, vice-gripping it to hold it down, quickly dropping the torn hair so Guzma would hopefully not question it. He wasn’t so lucky, as the footsteps paused and Guzma shouted, “Lil’ Aether?”

Gladion hated that nickname, and to be honest, he hated that defending that little girl had put him in that situation. In fact, he just hated his situation entirely! If his mother had simply kept her damn head screwed on straight, had Lillie not bolted the first chance she got from Aether, he wouldn’t have been in such a situation to begin with! Had Lusamine simply let him study at school normally, he could have gone anywhere in the whole world to further his studies, to make something of himself, to just live a normal life with a normal family! But no! Instead, he was relegated to crawling on his belly to the deepest recesses of Alola to escape Aether’s corrupted claws, with no family to his name aside from Null. The Skull Gang boasted of their familial nature, but he couldn’t help but partially feel like he had escaped the frying pan and hunkered down in the oven; he had escaped Lusamine’s brutality and bladed tongue, but now he would find himself at the mercy of shortsighted, angry Alolans, fueled by their belief in the Tapus and a prejudiced resentment for all those related to Skull. He almost contemptuously snorted. Yet, somehow, he felt safer there than he ever had at Aether…

“Gladion.” Guzma sounded much more serious this time.

“What?” Gladion frustratedly answered him at last, arching his shoulders and practically hugging himself.

“You’re bleedin’ on your head. Better come in and let Makua take a look at ‘at. Guy can work miracles, I tell ya. One o’ my best, oldest friends.”

He didn’t know who Makua was and he didn’t intend to find out. “No.” Clutching Null’s Ultra Ball tightly, Gladion abruptly turned on his heel and narrowly glared at his motel door, stomping his way back over to it. Plumeria had told him to head to Po Town that morning, but he had no desire to satisfy her request. He wanted to lock the doors, turn the pathetic TV that was lodged in the corner of his room on, raise the volume to an unreasonable amount, and forget the Skull Gang for the day. He supposed he wouldn’t have any choice but to keep Null out from then on. If others were going to jump him for his relation to Skull and if they were going to assume they could beat him down if they didn’t see him with a pokémon, then he’d make sure the first pokémon they saw was Null. If they were scared, fine. If they thought he was a monster, fine. If Null slashed the hell out of him on occasion, fine. He’d make it all fine.

Maybe one day he and Null could even get payback on all those who thought they could have kept him down. Maybe one day, he would make Lusamine beg him for mercy rather than the other way around, or maybe one day, Lillie would come crawling back for his assistance, and he’d leave her high and dry with no explanation just as she had left him. Sure, she didn’t know just how bad things had gotten following her absence on Aether Paradise, but whose fault was that? Most certainly not his! Maybe—

Pressure on his shoulder. “Gladion,” Guzma growled, “I’m serious, you’re bleedin’—”

Wrenching out of his hold, Gladion pitched Null’s Poké Ball and snarled, “Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”

For a moment, Guzma and Gladion both stared at each other in equal shock, both panting to try and catch their breath, while Null started idly clawing at its bronze mask again. Despite all his anger and desire to look as fierce as possible, Gladion had no idea that his emerald eyes were stretched wide in fear, his nostrils flaring in survivalist panic, all body language Guzma seemed to recognize, given the way he winced and ran a hand through his thick, white hair. “Y’know,” Guzma mumbled, “I thought I’da done you a favor to kick ya back to the streets and keep ya out of Skull. But… I can tell there’s a lot more to ya than I know.” Guzma pressed his lips to a hard line and glowered at Gladion. “I ain’t got a clue what that rich bitch did to ya. But I been where you are before.” He took a step back and held both hands up in surrender.

Curling his lip, Gladion hissed, “Whatever. The hell do you know about me?”

“Nothin’ exact, but I don’t need to. Go back to your motel. Keep that pokémon o’ yours out from now on.” Guzma suddenly smiled a little and snapped his fingers, his Golisopod cutting the threads between itself and the downed men and hobbling closer to its trainer. When it lowered its armored head next to him, Guzma stroked its head. “I didn’t become the only one to ever evolve a Wimpod by keepin’ it in a Poké Ball, that’s for damn sure. Look out for your pokémon and it’ll look out for you. I don’t care what Aether did to that mutt o’ yours. I’m sure it’s the same.”

He bristled at the use of the word mutt but managed to find the self-discipline to keep his mouth shut. Still, Gladion’s right hand managed to snake back up to his hair and start plucking it free again. “Thanks,” he tersely muttered. Now go away. Now go away and leave me alone.

Waving a hand at him, Guzma loudly sighed. “Go relax for a while. Ya earned it. Thanks for savin’ Lil’ua. She’s one o’ the poor saps that was born into this mess. There’re prob’ly some o’ us that could deserve a good beatin’ every now and then, but she ain’t it.”

Gladion didn’t watch him gather Lil’ua and leave. Instead, he casted a final, nervous glance to the unconscious men, their Crabrawler, and Lycanroc, and then scurried back into his motel room, Null following at his heels. He anxiously inspected the inside before shutting and locking the door, realizing he had left it open before, though he found nothing amiss. He retreated to his bed immediately, mud and rainwater be damned, and Null leapt onto the mattress after him. He stared him down with gray, wanting eyes for a moment, before cocking his head to scratch sharp claws loudly against the helmet.

“We’re going to find a way to do better,” Gladion reassured him abruptly, his voice tense and heavy against the still air of the small room. With the traces of a dark grin, he added, “But before then, we’re going to become the toughest there is. I will punish those that deserve it and let them know they can’t ever put me down again… That they can’t ever put us down again. Do you understand me, Null?”

Null paused his scratching briefly and uttered something of a mechanical grunt at him. Gladion wasn’t sure what it meant, but it looked as if Null were curiously listening closer.

“Aether taught me a lot, Null,” Gladion huffed, staring at his hands, feeling a cold, tingly sensation slowly work its way from his feet up. “Pokémon are often at the mercy of people and people do a lot of awful things given the opportunity. And those people don’t get punished when their victims are silent.” He looked up then and stared Null in the eyes. “Skull is violent and troubles challengers because they don’t have a choice. Talking and doing it peacefully didn’t work, if what Plumeria said was true.” Even though I have a hard time trusting her after what she said… “I stole you and ran away from Aether because there were no other options.” He broke into a wide, hungry grin, clenching his right hand into a fist in front of his face. Null reared away briefly, then lowered its upper body to the bed in a poised, battle stance, giving that eerie clanging noise that Gladion knew was its battle cry. Encouraged, Gladion sternly said, “We are enforcers, Null. We’ll punish those that deserve it since nobody else will on these islands, and we’ll save those who need it. I might not appreciate Plumeria tying me down to Skull, but I’m not going to let them own me. Nobody owns me. Nobody owns you. It’s me and you, Null—forever and always!”

Null happily jumped on the bed, though when he landed, he immediately went back to scratching and pulling at the mask.

“And more than anything, one day, I will get that mask off you.” Gladion licked his lips and practically bared his teeth. It might have disturbed him somewhat in the past, how much he lavished this vengeful ideology, but right then, it felt like heaven. Aether and Alola both could snake their curling fingers into him and try to pull him down, reach for his throat, hungry for his skin, but they would never succeed. He wouldn’t let them close in on him, or Null, or anyone else that didn’t deserve their fury… He dared to stroke Null’s mask, bracing himself for a strike, though he was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t come. “I will get that mask off you, Null. I swear… Even if I have to beat the method to do so out of Faba’s stupid face.”

 ------------------------------

Selene cocked her head curiously at the triangular, golden landmarks at either edge of the entrance to the Verdant Cavern. Captain Ilima was speaking, but her gaze had naturally wandered to those landmarks, and she had, admittedly, lost track of what he was saying. They had intricate, yet simplistic carvings etched into a pole, with two, angular projections on either side of it, while stone had been packed at the base to hold the landmarks up.

As if following her gaze, Captain Ilima laughed softly, drawing her attention back to him. She still found it eerie, the way his silvery eyes seemed to understand exactly what was going on around him, as if the film over them weren’t there at all. Selene had thought to question him about it during their initial discussion, but had backed out of it in the end, a little nervous to question a Captain’s appearance so bluntly. “Those are trial landmarks,” Captain Ilima explained with a flick of the wrist toward one of them, “they help challengers locate trial sites in case they don’t have someone to help guide them. They’re impermanent since trial sites can change pretty rapidly depending on the Tapu’s whims.”

“Oh,” Selene nodded slowly. “That makes sense… So, er… What did you say the trial was again…?” She flushed red embarrassedly and rubbed the back of her head. Hau, standing to her right, snickered. Elio was too lost whispering back and forth with Lillie to comment on the situation at hand, his Litten circling their feet impatiently. She wanted to roll her eyes at them. Although Lillie sniped at him with cold, biting remarks on occasion, they were practically thick as thieves already, as if Elio was somehow drawn to her bitter attitude. Selene didn’t understand it.

“You’ll go in and navigate to the deepest part of the cave,” Captain Ilima patiently explained again, smiling at her gently. He seemed so kind and understanding. She supposed he had to be, given the way his mind had to work with the ability Tapu Koko had imparted on him… She wondered if he ever regretted his ability. He had sworn up and down during their first discussion that it had opened his eyes to a much larger world, one he didn’t think he would have ever had the opportunity to see, without it, but she had to wonder if such an ability overwhelmed him at times… If it did, he certainly didn’t show it. “There, you’ll combat my Totem Gumshoos. He is a pokémon that was blessed by Tapu Koko, as much as I was… I’ll admit, it makes me happy to see you three willing to take this Trial on together. The Totems are very difficult to fight alone, since they can call other wild pokémon to assist them. They are not to be taken lightly. Now…” He cleared his throat and straightened his back, his expression suddenly taking a much more austere turn. “Once you enter the Verdant Cavern, you will not be able to leave until you complete the trial, or you forfeit. If you forfeit, you will need to wait…” he trailed off and blinked, another light laugh breaking his severe look. “Well, normally, I’d say you would have to wait at least a day before trying it again, but if you do that, you won’t need to attempt the trial again at all, since I won’t be a Captain anymore… Anyway, my point is, you should be ready before entering because you cannot leave without forfeiting. Are all three of you ready?”

Selene and Hau both nodded vigorously, Selene’s Rowlet clicking its beak in annoyance at her bouncing head. Snorting in amusement, she wondered why the pokémon insisted on standing there when it hated her moving her head so much… It was kind of endearing, as if he thought if he did it enough, she might be ‘trained’ to listen to his warnings. Anyway, when Elio failed to respond to Ilima’s inquiry after a few seconds, Selene rolled her eyes and hissed, “Earth to Elio!”

“Huh?” He dumbly stared at her and then Captain Ilima for a moment, and then grinned nervously. “Ah, sorry… Yeah, I think I caught it all, and I’m ready, or whatever…”

Captain Ilima looked as if he were fighting off a smirk with the way he looked on Elio. “Very well then,” he announced before turning on a heel to march into the cavern, throwing his arms out theatrically. “Let the Trial of the Verdant Cavern begin!” He was soon swallowed up by the shadowy entrance to the mossy cave.

“Do you get to come in and, uh, watch, or anything like that?” Selene heard Elio ask Lillie.

“Uh, no. Fairly sure pretty boy’s Gumshoos would eat me for daring to bring my Island Challengeless arse inside,” Lillie answered bluntly. Shrugging, she spotted a large boulder nearby and took a seat on that, crossing her legs innocently. She looked so sweet and harmless like that. Selene was a little alarmed by the flare of distrust she felt in her chest as she noticed that about Lillie, though… Ugh, she didn’t like buying into the obvious social conditioning against those that didn’t participate in the Island Challenge—she and Elio hadn’t even wanted to initially, and Elio still probably didn’t!—but something about Lillie was just… off. Something felt wrong about her. Selene just couldn’t shake that feeling…

“Aw,” Elio whined. “Well… oh, well.” He snapped his fingers and made a show of fingerguns that made Selene want to drag him into the cavern, if for no reason than to get him to stop embarrassing himself. “Seeya later, then~”

Lillie snorted. “See you, Torchic.”

Gaping back at her like a Magikarp out of water, Elio finally dramatically sputtered, “So rude!”

Groaning, Selene glanced to Hau. “Hey,” she started gently, “he said all of that in Galarish… Did you catch it all?”

“Oh, heard before,” Hau shrugged back at her. “No need.” Eagerly bouncing from foot to foot, he set Popper down to the ground (he had been hugging the pokémon close to his chest again), then rushed off into the cavern. “C’mon!” he called over his shoulder, Popper scrambling after him a little unsteadily.

Forgetting all about her inhibitions, Selene darted after him, Elio shortly on her heels, leaving Lillie alone just outside of the Verdant Cavern. None of them thought anything about that, considering how fiercely Lillie had defended herself before, and so, none of them could have known just how frightening it was to Lillie…

…or just how frightening it should have been to her.

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

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[popwasabi]

What “The Dark Knight” says about our bad politics

Waaay back in the summer of 2008, me and my dad drove up to Northern California to attend San Jose State University’s freshman orientation.

It was a long drawn out process where first-year students basically were told and shown a bunch of things they would forget and relearn by their first day anyways and culminated with all of us spending one night in the campus dorms so we could all get a taste of the “campus life” experience.

I wanted it to end badly for a couple reasons. Being an introvert, I was not comfortable sharing a room with anyone, let alone a stranger, for a night but more importantly, I was being kept from the biggest movie premiere of the year that day: “The Dark Knight.”

As soon as I woke up the next morning, I rushed my dad to find the nearest theater and purchased tickets immediately for a late-night screening. I was already a huge fan of “Batman Begins” but every trailer to Christopher Nolan’s epic follow-up indicated we were in for an even bigger blockbuster than before and I was beyond pumped.

(Me getting the fuck off campus to watch “The Dark Knight” that day.)

Two and a half hours later I left the theater blown away by the experience. “The Dark Knight” was everything, at the time, I was hoping for in a comic book movie; angsty, dark, edgy (all things I thought I was as a teen), cinematically sharp, thrilling, a fantastic score once again by the legendary Hans Zimmer, and fulfilled just about every fanboy wet dream I had at the time for a perfect Batman movie.

To this day it remains the most satisfying theatrical experience I’ve ever had seeing a movie, not that it’s my favorite movie of all-time anymore, mind you, but that I have never gone into a movie with such high expectations and had them blown away quite like that since.

(Conversely, this^ was my most disappointing experience...)

I’m a different person now, of course. If you were to wipe my memory of the film and had to watch it again today I doubt I would have the same fanboygasm I had then as the cynical 30-year-old I am now but I’ll argue that “The Dark knight” still remains a high mark, if not the standard, for comic book movies today.

That said, parts of this film have definitely not aged well. Visually the film still holds up, the action is still exciting, the performances are all stellar (though Bale’s Batman voice is still bad) but what hasn’t aged well, for me, are the movie’s politics.

“The Dark Knight” is, of course, a post 9/11 movie, in fact, it’s arguably the definitive one as its pop-cultural footprint dwarfs pretty much all within its sub-genre. This Nolan sequel deals heavily in themes of terrorism with its iconic villain The Joker, played maniacally by the late great Heath ledger, wreaking havoc across Gotham with various explosive devices. Though the Clown Prince is more an anarchist than someone with an ideology, like those in Al Qaeda or the Taliban, the results of his beliefs/non-beliefs are more or less the same; cause pandemonium and fear in the masses. Batman, representing the power of justice and order, does battle with this in a war to save Gotham’s soul and again this is still a damn entertaining and thrilling story.

(Seriously, it’s still a rock solid entry in the comic book movie genre.)

But where the film’s 9/11 politics become problematic is toward the end of the film when the Joker begins his final act to plunge Gotham into unstoppable chaos. Batman becomes desperate; The Joker has eluded him at every turn, always two steps ahead of him, escaping justice no matter what Bruce Wayne does so he concocts a plan to finally to locate and stop the Joker for good.

He creates an elaborate sonar system using every cell phone in Gotham, effectively creating a massive surveillance state to spy on its citizens in order to locate the Joker.

(And it’s the only time we have ever got the real Batman eyes on screen, damn it!)

Lucius Fox, played by Morgan Freeman, appropriately calls this out telling him he’s wrong and that he cannot support this but Batman insists that it’s the only way. Fox reluctantly agrees and tells him he’ll resign once this is over as he can’t morally support such a system. The sonar, of course, works and Batman is able to stop the Clown Prince once and for all and upon Fox entering his name into the sonar computer the program dissolves and is deleted presumably for good.

This is of course to wash Batman’s hands of this deed to the audience. Our protagonist knows this is wrong, the audience is told it is wrong but by ending the surveillance he shows he would never abuse such a program, that sometimes good men have to do terrible things to defeat evil and that makes it ok.

For years, as a bleeding heart liberal (at the time) who grew up in the Bush years but loved the hell out of this movie, I tried to reconcile with this part of the story because Batman was the hero. I thought maybe this kind of action is ok because if the “good guy” is in charge bad stuff is fine because he/she won’t abuse such power. That’s real justice, right?

The problem is in the real world, at the top, there really aren’t any good guys and they are counting on you to believe that they are when they get a hold of such power because that’s how we are programmed.

The Patriot Act, which was the signature Bush-era reform post 9/11, created our current surveillance state. In the interest of national security and ensuring those ��dern turrists don’t go killing lil’ Timmy riding his tricycle out in Des Moines, Iowa” our elected leaders, both republican and democratic (make no mistake), effectively signed away our constitutional rights to “ensure our safety” by spying on us basically without warrants. The proponents proudly claimed its necessity in fighting the “War on Terrorism” and those naysayers either shouldn’t worry “if you have nothing to hide” or worse were un-American Taliban sympathizers.

For progressives, of course, this was an evil violation of our civil liberties but for many conservatives, this wasn’t a big deal. They are just trying to keep us safe after all. 

But conveniently ignored by many on the left still today is the complicity they had in bringing about this era in warrantless surveillance. Yes, this policy started under Bush, of course, but it continued to be re-upped through the Obama administration and the Trump administration, not to mention revolving majorities in the House and Senate, showing no matter who was in charge they all liked the idea of keeping an eye on all of us with or without reason.

Considering the Patriot Act was made to win the “War on Terrorism” our leaders were never going to relinquish this power anyways because you can’t win a war on terrorism. Terrorism is not a country or a people, it’s an ideology behind many different ideologies. The US, no matter how you see it, be it as liberators or oppressors, will always have enemies and that’s all the reason they need to keep this power it seems.

Having the data on our lives mined like oil can easily be used against us in a variety of ways regardless of if any of us have terroristic or even criminal intentions. But for many in this country, it was only a problem if the wrong guy wielded that power. As soon as their “good guy” got in though, suddenly it was no big deal. I wonder why...

“The Dark Knight” puts forth a problematic view on who can and should wield supreme power, that even terrible choices can be made as long as the “right” person is the one making them.

Liberals are notorious for justifying them when it’s one of them who does it.

It’s a lie. A lie that both parties use to their advantage because they want you believe everything they do can be justified because you happen to be a part of their party; the “good guys” once again. But there is something extra cynical about the way liberals wield it as they parade themselves around as paragons and moral pillars against the Jokers of the Republican party.

For all the platitudes liberals give, that would make some superhero speeches seem benign, they wear masks about as well as the vigilantes do but not for the same reasons. When confronted by this blatant hypocrisy, liberal voters justify all kinds of horrible things as long as the other “bad guy” isn’t the one doing it. For all the shit Bush gets, and rightfully so, for plunging us into a military, financial, and humanitarian quagmire in the Middle East, Obama gets almost zero real pushback by liberals for effectively drone bombing the hell out of the same people. During these past three years Trump has more or less allowed ICE to run rampant on immigrant communities sure and liberals have been critical, again as they should, but who made the cages they were thrown into and who deported more of them during his first three years in office than Trump did?

(And once again, and I can’t emphasize this enough, Andrew Cuomo is NOT your fucking friend...)

Liberals often like to present themselves as the moral purveyors of good in the face of conservative opposition and they use it to their advantage to more or less do many of the same foul things those with R’s next to their name do. Sure, not all their actions are equally as evil but even then, we rarely truly hold either of our leaders feet to the fire because we believe their actions are somehow better because they have a “D” next to their name.

These horrific policies and actions will never see justice as long as we keep justifying them because the “right” person is behind them.

No, this is not an all sides are equally bad take. That discussion requires more nuance and for a different time, but I will say both sides are varying degrees of bad that should be taken seriously instead of not at all and can’t be pushed aside again and again and again because “the other guys are worse.” 

We are running into the same situation today as our presidential election features a credibly accused rapist, sexual predator, who supports Bush-era tax cuts, who takes money from major corporate lobbyists, who is against Medicare for All, has open disdain for millenials, and not only supports but openly bragged about the aforementioned The Patriot Act.

Hmmm, sounds an awful lot like someone we know, huh?

You could argue that one of these two men mitigates, or even vastly mitigates, harm if in office and I’m not here to necessarily scold you for making what you feel is morally the least awful choice but the point still remains; we are justifying evil again because our “good guy” is in charge.

Being liberal, just on its own, does not vastly minimize the problematic nature of a bad person.

Regardless of how you feel about this election and what choice you plan to make this November (and again, I’m not here to tell you what to do), bad things and bad policies will be continued to be enacted by bad people because that’s what choices we’ve been given. There isn’t a good one and the most vulnerable will be hurt the most by it regardless of who wins. There is a reason so many are disillusioned with voting and it’s not just voter suppression laws.

I can already hear some of you screaming “OH MER GERD pURiTy TeStS,” but this is far more cynical a standard we have than simply choosing a less than perfect candidate. Many are already making rather tone-deaf comments about people being “privileged” for choosing not to compromise their morals anymore. What’s “privileged” is voting for the guy who will do less harm for you but ultimately still disproportionately harm more people of color no matter who is in office.  

(The country and the world can really begin to truly heal when a Democrat is in charge of one of these Freedom Machines once again!)

Yes, I might agree that one is probably a net positive for the world at this point but to act like someone choosing to not participate anymore in what is effectively a never-ending cycle I can’t say I blame them either. At some point, our society has to draw a real line in the sand on these things with our leaders and force a more moral standard for our government instead of the status quo.

We can’t go on this endless “pragmatic” path picking “the lesser of two evils” until we gradually just become evil. You can make the argument that maybe the time isn’t now, and you might be right but when? These folks at the top are COUNTING on us accepting circumstances and justifying terrible beliefs and actions over and over again because of the state of our politics.

“The Dark Knight” believes that sometimes bad things must be done to defeat evil but the real world can be so much less cynical if we stopped compromising on our beliefs. It’s not entirely too late for us to do the right thing. We can’t go on forever letting bad behavior go because the “good guy” will be the one doing it instead of the other one.

Taking money from corrupt billionaires is wrong. Extra-judicially drone bombing the Middle East endlessly is wrong. Throwing migrants in cages like fucking animals is wrong. Rape and sexual assault are wrong. Mass warrantless surveillance is wrong. Doesn’t matter if its Batman or fucking Superman doing any of these things; immoral behavior cannot and should not be ever justified.

Otherwise, we really will live long enough to see ourselves become the villain...

Looking forward to the comments on this one...

[carewyncromwell]

[As Carewyn headed out to the Courtyard, she couldn’t help but feel her resolve slipping away.

When Penny had first explained her problem with Beatrice, Carewyn had been rather sympathetic -- after all, she adored Jacob, and being separated from him was still an open wound for her. And to a degree, the Haywood sisters’ situation was almost worse -- even when Jacob had started keeping more secrets when Carewyn was younger or, hell, when Jacob and she didn’t see eye-to-eye in the Portrait Vault, Carewyn never once thought that Jacob didn’t want to be around her or disliked her for some reason.

But on the other hand...Carewyn couldn’t help but feel a little bitter, too.]

At least your sister’s here, Penny. Even if she’s not talking to you, at least she’s here and at least you know she’s alive and safe. I know you miss her, but...at least she’s not throwing herself into danger and you’re helpless to stop it...

[Pushing those meaner, more selfish thoughts down as best she could, Carewyn took a deep breath and strolled across the Courtyard. As she glanced around, she heard a familiar voice call her name.]

Andre: “Carewyn!”

[It was her ex-boyfriend (and still rather good friend), Andre Egwu. He beckoned her over, his body language visibly urgent.

Carewyn strode over to him.]

“What’s going on? I’m supposed to be looking for Beatrice...”

[With a nod of his head, he indicated a corner of the Courtyard, where Ismelda and another girl were chatting.

It took Carewyn a minute to realize -- ]

Beatrice?

[Carewyn blinked, visibly taken aback.]

“...Wow...Penny wasn’t kidding. She is unrecognizable.”

Andre: “I know, right? She’s been...’Ismelda-fied!’”

[Andre glanced over at the two, frowning in thought.]

Andre: “Gotta say, though -- I’ve never understood the ‘hair-over-one-eye’ look. It has to make it hard to see much of anything...”

[Carewyn crossed her arms.]

“I guess it’s supposed to evoke ‘mystique.’ Though I would think you could evoke that better with a fashionable cloak.”

Andre: “(with a grin) Or a nice smoky eye -- diggin’ the new make-up, by the way.”

[Carewyn smiled off-handedly.]

“Just thought I’d try something different.”

It helps hide the bags under my eyes a little better...

[Carewyn turned her focus back over to Beatrice and Ismelda.

Honestly, the situation didn’t look as bad as she’d envisioned, from Penny’s description. Beatrice and Ismelda were both smiling as they talked, clearly engaged in conversation. It didn’t look like Beatrice was acting angry like Merula or reckless like Ben. Carewyn had never really gotten on with Ismelda, of course, and she didn’t really love the thought of Penny’s little sister finding enjoyment in other people’s pain the way Ismelda did...but on the face of things, the two looked to be in a rather pleasant mood.]

I hope they are...after what happened last year...after taking so long to get Beatrice out of that Portrait...I want her to be happy.

[Andre watched Carewyn out the side of his eye as she watched Ismelda and Beatrice.]

Andre: “You all right?”

“...Yeah...”

I told Penny I would talk to Beatrice, so I suppose I jolly well have to. I just wish I knew what to say...

[She glanced at Andre.]

“I’ll be right back.”

[Putting her courage to the sticking place, Carewyn uneasily walked over to Ismelda and Beatrice.

As she approached, Beatrice looked up at her, her expression visibly confrontational. It made Carewyn falter, suddenly unsure of what to say. All of her thoughts just kept cycling back to regret and apologies -- but she knew full well that was no start to a conversation.

Carewyn was yanked out of her trance by Ismelda’s cold voice.]

[Carewyn’s expression instantly hardened, gaining its usual perfect, level attitude.]

[The irritation and disdain in Beatrice’s voice startled Carewyn.]

“What?”

Beatrice: “I know you’re close friends with my sister, Carewyn. I’m sure she’s told you all about how disappointed she is that I’m not walking around like a ‘Mini-Penny’ again...”

[Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.]

“No. She never said anything like that.”

[Carewyn didn’t love that Ismelda was standing right there listening to this conversation. She could feel her dormmate’s black eyes boring into her face even if Carewyn wasn’t looking at her.]

“...She just said that...you went through a dramatic change over the summer...”

[Ismelda cut Carewyn off very abruptly, and it made Carewyn shoot her a very cold look despite herself.]

“(Mama-Bear-mode activate!) Beatrice was trapped for an entire year thanks to the Portrait Curse -- I think I’m well within my rights to worry, Ismelda. Anyone would have trouble coping with something like that...”

[The image of Jacob trapped in a portrait in the Cursed Vault rippled over her mind.]

Ismelda: “(scoffs) Well, I’m not here to help anyone ‘cope.’“

Then maybe you should back off.

[Carewyn bit that nastier, growling thought back.]

Beatrice: “Penny is the most popular witch at school. Doesn’t she have enough people trailing after her, without me?”

[Beatrice’s sentiment made Carewyn’s heart ache.

Really, she had to admit -- there was nothing that wrong with how Beatrice was acting, as far as she could see. The Hufflepuff second-year had gone through a really traumatic event, and Carewyn knew first hand how much something that abrupt and scary could change a person. Jacob’s disappearance had shattered who she had been completely, and it’d taken her a while to rebuild from that. She knew it had to be frustrating for Penny, not to be able to interact with Beatrice the way she used to...but from the sound of things, there seemed to be some baggage between the two sisters that wasn’t being properly addressed.]

There’ve been times I resented Jacob, for getting so in over his head and making me put things on hold to try to help him -- but even then, I never avoided him. I never took out my feelings on him. How can Penny and Beatrice ever make up if Beatrice won’t talk to Penny?

[The image of Jacob Disapparating before she could stop him from leaving played again in her mind.

The Haywood sisters didn’t know what they had...]

“(primly) ...I...don’t have any problem with how you look, Beatrice. It’s not my style, but...well, I’m not wearing it, am I? And honestly...I don’t even care if you’re spending time with Ismelda. We may have our differences -- but you’re more than entitled to make your own friends.”

[Carewyn purposefully refused to look at Ismelda at all as she said this.]

“But...I know for a fact that Penny wouldn’t have a problem with either of those things either, if you’d just talk to her. You’re her sister, Beatrice -- of course she’s going to miss you. I daresay Penny could care less how many admirers she’s got, as long as she knows you’re there.”

I know I would. If Jacob was here with me and safe again...it wouldn’t matter if the whole world hated me...

[Beatrice gave a low scoff.]

Beatrice: “Sorry, Carewyn -- but the only way Penny wants me there is if I go back to the way I was, and that’s not going to happen.”

[Carewyn once again felt a sympathetic pang in her chest as Ben’s words echoed back in her ears.

“What Rakepick did to us in the Cursed Vault...that kind of cruelty and betrayal from an adult we trusted...it changed me. It’s changed you too, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

Despite herself, some emotion showed through on her face, and Carewyn bowed her head in an attempt to obscure it.]

“(softly) ...I know.”

I know you can’t go back. None of us can. Nothing...nothing can go back to the way it was...nothing can ever be the same...

[Both Ismelda and Beatrice seemed a little surprised by Carewyn’s reaction. Even though her gaze had shifted, the Slytherin Prefect, when she spoke again, sounded more like her usual self -- self-assured, stoic, and paragon.]

“I know you’re not going to change -- but that doesn’t mean that your relationship with Penny has to be over. Whatever problem you’re having, I know Penny -- “

Beatrice: “(interrupting more harshly) I don’t have a problem! I’m just...trying something new -- and I wish everyone would just let me be.”

Ismelda: “(dryly) You’d think students at a wizarding school would be more open-minded.”

[Carewyn felt the urge to hex Ismelda’s mouth shut, but she refused to fancy acting on it.]

Beatrice: “(cynically) I totally agree with Ismelda.”

“Beatrice...”

Beatrice: “(tiredly) Carewyn...just stop. I’m done, okay? I don’t want to talk to Penny. And you can tell her I said that.”

[Carewyn looked at Beatrice with concern. She struggled to think of something to say, but before she could, Ismelda cut in again.]

Ismelda: “She said she’s done, Cromwell. So run along.”

[Carewyn shot Ismelda another sharp glare.]

"Don’t prod me.”

[She glanced at Beatrice with a much sadder expression, before exhaling through her nose heavily, turning on her heel, and walking away, leaving the two alone.

Andre met up with Carewyn again as she passed the fountain.]

“Like a trainwreck.”

[Carewyn sighed heavily.]

“This whole thing is more twisted than I thought. I thought the issue was just about Beatrice struggling with what happened to her last year, but...there’s a lot more baggage there...and I don’t think all of it’s unjustified. And I hate to say that, given that it’s targeted at Penny...”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, landing on a cobblestone to the left of Andre.]

“...It’s wrong for Beatrice to just shut Penny out like this -- I mean, you can’t expect anyone to make amends after a fight if you don’t give them the chance to try. But at the same time, I don’t really know if Penny’s accepted how much things have changed.”

[Andre considered Carewyn, his black eyes rippling with sympathy despite his grim expression.]

Andre: “Something you know from experience, I suppose?”

[Carewyn looked up at Andre, surprised. He gave her a weak smile.]

Andre: “Well, I mean...I reckon when your brother disappeared, it had to have changed a lot, right?”

[Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.]

“A lot”...no...it changed everything. Both times...it changed everything...

[Her eyes once again drifted down to the ground, but she determinedly kept her voice offhand and strong.]

“Mm, yeah, but...this is different. Regardless...I can’t go back to Penny having made no progress.”

Andre: “So what do you plan to do?”

[Her red lips spread into a wry smile.]

“...and I know just the person to talk to about how to do that.”

[Andre raised his eyebrows.]

Andre: “Does his name rhyme with ‘Farnaby Dee?’”

[Carewyn giggled lowly as she strolled past Andre out of the Courtyard, waving backhandedly to him and humming a little ditty to herself.]

“Time to see Barnaby Lee~...”

    ((OOC: XDDD Goddamn it, Andre, now I want to write a whole version of “Sandra Dee” all about Barnaby. Your fault, Andre -- your fault!!))

[possiblypeachy]

opportunities missed.

―; summary: there are plenty of times during which the Warden and Alistair could've kissed. of course, in that terrible fashion of theirs, they were far too stupid to take these chances and instead fumbled around with their emotions like the fools that they were. at least we get some good pining out of it, hey?

―; pairing: alistair x female warden

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: n/a (i think! please tell me if you deem otherwise.”

―; A/N: i am a Great Big Fool for never having written for alistair before. this himbo was my first love in a game and i need more content where he’s being useless so i thought i’d just write some myself. i can’t guarantee everyone’s 100% in-character but please do enjoy the oncoming antics regardless!!

― ❊ ―

To say that Alistair and the Warden’s relationship had been simple would be the biggest lie of the ages. Granted, during the Blight was a complicated time to decide that you love somebody but, Maker’s balls, did they make it difficult for themselves. It was all flushed cheeks and shy gifts in amongst the ruthless fighting and bloodshed; one might think they’d have been pushed to confess sooner, considering the looming threat of death, but one would also be bypassing the fact that they are idiots and idiots stray wildly from what is expected from them.

There had been a myriad of near-kisses on their journey together, all more ridiculous than the last, before it finally happened (afterwards, Zevran had owed Oghren a coin purse, much to the assassin’s chagrin). It was certainly something of a personal battle for everyone involved and, as we all know, battles always come will glorious tales behind them. Well, perhaps ‘glorious’ isn’t a viable word to use here but the whole ordeal was… interesting, for sure.

The first instance of this recurring disaster was while traipsing through Redcliffe Castle in hopes of finding Arl Eamon safe and well and not finding his demon-possessed son. Now, by this point, Alistair and our dear Warden were becoming steadfast friends; she had the same wit as him, that same sense of shy heroism, and, luckily for him, she seemed to have little tolerance for Morrigan’s constant mocking-- at least, she had little tolerance when she could tell that the apostate had hurt the poor man’s feelings. Nothing special was blooming yet but there was certainly a strong potential for that tension-- that delicious pining that everyone wants to read about or experience if they’re lucky.

“Do these corridors ever stop?” Was Alistair’s second complaint of the past hour, following a long, dismal monologue about the sheer amount of stairs in the castle. It was almost like he’d forgotten about how huge this place was as a child and was just now rediscovering it all.

“Do your complaints ever stop?” It was Morrigan who bit back, of course, and the Warden closed her eyes in anticipation. Hearing Morrigan speak was sometimes like being stood in the eye of a storm and knowing that there’s no escape from the battering soon to arrive. “One might think you Grey Wardens have bigger problems to whine about.”

Half-hoping that there’d be yet more walking corpses in the next room if only to stop their argument before it began, the Warden pushed open a door to her left and swerved into it, hand lingering near her weapon. Her hopes were crushed, however, when she was met instead with a horrible damp smell and a few rats-- not even of the giant variety-- skittering behind barrels and crates.

The disagreement didn’t stop either, with Alistair biting back a: “Well, I am truly, deeply sorry that I’ve not had my mind fully focused on-- what?-- the possible end to everything.” Morrigan scoffed but he continued over the sound of the Warden’s mabari barking-- he, too, quite obviously irritated with the bickering. “I suppose it’s easy to assume that people can’t have more than one thing on their mind when you live in a quaint, little bog--”

“I likely have more on my mind now than you ever have--”

“Ladies!” The Warden put one hand up, the other digging through the depths of a barrel in hopes that there was something useful there. “Why don’t we stop with the back-and-forth and-- Andraste’s tits, what is that?” She pulled out an object that resembled a fruit, brown and green due to age. An insect leapt from the surface of the fruit back into the grubby heaven that was the pit of the barrel. The Warden, able to handle things such as walking corpses and maleficarum but apparently not a rotting apple, threw the dastardly thing against the nearby wall. The impact made a disgusting, wet noise before sliding down to the floor.

The quartette stared at it briefly, all sharing a similar frown, before the Warden let out a tired sigh. “Well, if you two have stopped fighting, I think I’d like to leave this room and try to forget about what just happened.” With that, she turned.

Straight into Alistair.

It was a strange and decidedly awkward bump of chests, during which their faces were suddenly closer than they’d yet been. There were mutters of “Oh, Maker, sorry” and “Sorry, I didn’t-- uh-- see you there” that made Morrigan smile like… well, a witch behind them; they likely weren’t going to hear the end of it.

Alistair’s cheeks flushed a reddish colour, ears tinged with embarrassment, and it was in that moment that the Warden had decided that he was, for a warrior meant to help her save the world, quite adorable. He decided that same thing in the same moment about her, what with her averted gaze and little, apologetic smile.

Wonderful.

It happened the second time when they were both acutely aware of these growing feelings for one another. Leliana had already begun to poke fun-- in the kindest way possible-- about how she’d always catch them staring at each other from across the camp, a light in their eyes that declared admiration-- not only borne from respect for each other as fighters. Of course, in that way of theirs, they denied anything to begin with, despite their flirtatious banter and their want to protect one another on the battlefield.

Everyone in their merry little band could agree-- to this day-- that the Deep Roads around Orzammar were just the worst place to be in Thedas. Even without the extra darkspawn hanging about thanks to the Blight, the tight tunnels and deepstalkers were enough to keep anyone away. This, unfortunately, would be the next setting in their series of near-kisses.

A particularly tough squadron of darkspawn had set upon them during their search for Paragon Branka and, as always, their duty as Grey Wardens meant that they were obliged to at least try to take them out. The Warden could already feel the onset of muscle fatigue and sweating so much down in these depths was just bad for everyone. Quite frankly, she’d had enough and was considering calling for a retreat and trying to find a side tunnel they could take to pass by this onslaught; who knows what other beasts would be further along in the tunnels? They needed to conserve energy and supplies.

“Everyone!” She had shouted against the clash of metal and the crackle of magic, slamming her weapon into an attacking darkspawn, after which Morrigan promptly blasted it off of the rocky archway they’d been fighting on. “Retreat!”

The line of fighting started to pull back to the entrance to the cavern, darkspawn unable to crowd themselves onto the thinning walkway without stumbling and falling to the rocks below. It was all going well-- perfect, in fact-- until there was the distant and distinct burning sound of a fireball careening through the air. The Warden made direct eye contact with an emissary, holding its staff in its hands like it had just attacked, before a shout of her name came from her right and Alistair launched himself at her. The explosion of magic was deafening and blasted the entire party off of the rock arch and straight into the darkness below.

Despite the fall not being particularly high, the Warden was certainly ready for a painful impact, her skin already tender and hurting from the blast. Her body slammed into the floor, a cloud of dust following her as she rolled down a small ravine. Upon feeling the instant aching in her shoulder, she decided that she’d allow herself a few moments of grace and just lay there for a while-- at least to alleviate the ringing in her ears.

However, another body rolled into hers, the weight of them barreling her along with them until they both came to a stop tangled together. There was the distant groaning of Zevran, still lying on the floor, nursing a bleeding cut on his forehead, and Morrigan was stood a few metres away patting dirt off of her skirt with a face contorted with inconvenienced disgust. Admittedly, the Warden might’ve blacked out for a few moments but when she came to the realisation that the floor below her wasn’t rock and was, indeed, a person she inhaled sharply and sat up.

Alistair was beneath her-- to which she was sure that Zevran had said something to disgrace the Maker but the ringing in her ears was still too loud to hear it properly-- with cheeks painted red and a crooked little smile. His mouth was moving so she could only assume that he was speaking but rather than making it clear that she couldn’t hear him she did as was expected of her and said: “What?”

Well, perhaps ‘said’ isn’t the right word to use here. ‘Shouted’ maybe? Or, more appropriately ‘bellowed’? Either way, Alistair flinched when she all but yelled at him. As was expected, he shouted back in hopes that she’d be able to hear him over it all. “This is romantic, isn’t it?”

The ringing was slowly starting to subside so, luckily, she didn’t have to scream at him anymore. “Ah, yes, the stench of darkspawn and a painful shoulder really does get me going.” Zevran, now stood, chortled at her comment and, if you looked closely enough, Morrigan had given a little smile too.

Despite their joking, the hand on her lower back that helped her up made the Warden’s poor little heart flutter and the mere fact that they had landed like that made Alistair worried that the Maker would smite him, though he’d let it happen if only to see the gentle curl of her lips for the rest of his life. Love could always bloom in strange places-- in this case, the Deep Roads-- and their lingering looks and closeness during combat made that overbearingly obvious to everyone else. Sickeningly so, Morrigan might add.

To think this was the end of their everlasting pining would make you a great fool-- much like them, actually. After the Deep Roads and that dreaded encounter with the broodmother, Alistair had shyly offered up a rose to the Warden. He had said that he couldn’t allow such beauty to be tainted by the Blight and, in a certain way, he felt the same about her. She’d blushed, made a silly though overall on-brand joke, and took the rose from him, fiddling with petals with a fullness in her heart that made it hard to breathe. When he’d seen her setting it down beside her bedroll before she slept, staring at it for a little too long, he had to practice every bit of restraint he had to not smile like a madman.

She hated to leave it in that dismal little box as they travelled to the Brecilian Forest but had to so anyway, making a mental note to ask Wynne if it was possible to magically preserve the flower later on. During the trip, Alistair and the Warden would always walk just a little too closely, backs of hands brushing past one another with a desire to cave and finally entwine. They’d share the same night watches, staying up together until sunrise, pointing out strange shapes in the stars or trying to convince the other that there was a beast in the nearby bushes. It was horrendous to see such obvious adoration between two people without ever having seen either of them consolidate it-- like reading a book that never reaches its climax.

The forest was nice enough, what with all the greenery and rabbits, if you could just discount the overwhelming presence of werewolves and the trees-- the walking trees. In hopes that things might go more smoothly, the Warden had brought her mabari along for the ride, praying that maybe he and the werewolves could bark up some kind of deal. Admittedly, this wasn’t perhaps the best idea-- Morrigan made that very clear-- but the Warden wasn’t some kind of lycanthrope expert and was only doing what instinct told her. Besides, much like a pair of children who had decided on a stupid idea, herself and Alistair had declared that, as the two Grey Wardens of the group, no one could tell them not to bring the mabari along. Then, they mumbled some reasons that seemed to be good enough for Oghren at least and went on their merry way.

The Warden, her mabari, Alistair, and Wynne (who had come along if only to support Alistair in his belief that the mabari plan would work) had been traipsing through the forest, muttering curses at rocks hidden underneath leaves and felled trees that would block their path. The Warden was amazed at how many of those sylvan creatures there were in these woods and, Maker, did their long, twiggy arms hurt if you got slapped by them. However, they had yet to encounter any of these werewolves that Keeper Zathrian had mentioned and she was starting to wonder if this was some kind of ploy to get the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden killed or merely lost in the forest. Well, they could’ve done that themselves.

Her mabari barked a few times and looked at her, tension in his hindlegs that signalled agitation.

“What’s wrong, boy?” She bent down slightly to ask him, careful to not let her voice get too loud in case there were nearby enemies.

“Bark bark! Grrr!”

“What’s that? There are some other pooches on their way here that might not like us being on their territory?”

“Woof! Bark bark, woof!”

“Hiding would be advisable unless I’m willing to either fight them or be marked as territory--”

“Woof… woof, grrr.”

“-- and I’d never be able to wash that smell out of my clothes?” The Warden straightened herself again, her hands on her hips like she was considering what to put on her toast in the morning. “Well, you guys heard what the dog said; we should really find a spot to hide in.”

Wynne zoned out of what the Warden had said entirely and instead stared, open-mouthed, at her and the mabari. It’s difficult to describe the sheer level of confusion the wizened mage had painted across her features but, to put it into perspective, imagine that one of your friends had just had a full-blown conversation with a dog and-- oh, wait.

Alistair, on the other hand, had the kind of love in his eyes and curl to his lips that came from watching your partner do something altogether strange but genuinely quite skilful. This woman can talk to dogs-- how can she get any better? is what he probably thought upon watching this exchange.

The mabari barked again and it seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor and forced them to pay attention to what the Warden had just said, though Wynne would certainly be having words with the Warden about this later on. Did she understand him through tone of bark? Was it some kind of magic? How was he saying such long--

There was a crunch of fallen branches in the distance and snarl that even a war dog like her mabari couldn’t make. Wide eyes darted to Alistair, then Wynne, before she barrelled herself toward a gap between two nearby rocks, hoping that she didn’t smell too much of anything. The other two shared a look-- a panicked, helpless look. Wynne practically leapt behind a thick-trunked tree with surprising grace for a woman of her age and left Alistair to stiffen up in the middle of the path.

Her mabari barked at him once, a considerable amount of concern in his tone when one considers that he’s a dog, and Alistair plunged into a familiar state of panic-- one of the many reasons that he always insists on being a follower, not a leader. Maker, he was going to be eaten by one of these werewolves-- an oversized, probably stinking, mutt. What a way for one of the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden to die.

A hand yanked on his own and he suddenly had to suck in a breath to squeeze into this cold, slightly damp crack in the rock. The Warden was pushed a little further down the crack, one of her hands pressed against his shoulder to push him back against the wall a little, allowing her to peer out into the open. Alistair soon became acutely aware of how close they were and it got more and more difficult to keep any kind of attention on the task at hand. Instead, he’d let her do all the heavy-lifting while he decided if that smell of hers was more of a campfire aroma or some kind of lady product she might’ve picked up on the road. His brows furrowed. Were there such things to be picked up? And, surely she wouldn’t have the time to--

He fought back the need to heave out air when she wriggled herself closer to him, effectively squeezing her body right in front of his in this dastardly gap. Her hand pressed to his chest now instead of his shoulder in hopes of creating a little more breathing room for herself, though this, in turn, suffocated him a little bit. The curiosity in her eyes was quite sweet, however, so Alistair decided against saying anything yet.

Her mabari barked at the rustling on the outer edge of the clearing, that distinct threat in his eyes that marked him as a war dog. When a hulking foot crunched through the leaves and the guttural snarling became louder than ever before, he didn’t seem so eager to fight anymore and lowered his tail, flattening his ears to his head. He looked in the direction of the Warden, worried, and she did a strange kissy face as reassurance; he would be getting lots of hugs and treats after this, even if Morrigan complained about how the extra meat made him absurdly gassy.

From her position crushed between Alistair and the rock, she couldn’t crane her neck around to look at the source of the thumping footsteps. Alistair, on the other hand, could see the werewolf too well, breathing out a curse of “Maker’s breath” before the Warden slammed a hand over his mouth in a fit of sudden fear that the oversized pooch would hear him. Their gazes met and her eyes widened, silently asking him what he saw. Her hand stayed clamped over his mouth so he raised his hands awkwardly, careful not to jostle himself or her, and made a gesture that screamed ‘it’s huge!’. She swallowed down her nerves and poked her head out of the gap a little further, finally allowing Alistair to breathe through his mouth again.

The werewolf was alone, luckily, and sniffed at the air as it inched forward, poking its nose about before it landed its sight on the mabari. Beady eyes narrowed, its back hunched over more, and it padded toward the fellow dog. “What is this--” there was a little snort, “-- mutt doing alone?”

As the Warden had asked, the mabari barked a few times, though he was certainly less sure of himself now than he was before. She was proud of him, at least-- her little snookums, her tiny, baby boy; look at him, facing off against such a hardy foe! He’d come so far since he was a puppy. She did one of those strange, nostalgic smiles that made Alistair practically vibrate with the beginnings of laughter.

“Stupid dog. Thinks I can understand it’s tongue--”

The Warden had poked her head out a little too far and, filled with worry that she might stumble out of their spot, Alistair grabbed her shoulders and tugged her back toward him. A few pebbles slipped under her feet as she wobbled back into position which made the werewolf dart its head in their direction. Her mabari began to bark again, hopping about on the spot in hopes of drawing attention back to him.

Smart boy, is what Alistair thought as he eyed the situation, still holding the Warden in her spot; a bout of protector complex had come over him, it seemed. He wasn’t going to lose his partner in crime to some… ugly dog. They still had this whole Blight problem to sort out and, Maker, he would not be able to do that himself.

The Warden didn’t even get a chance to see if her dog’s distraction had worked since her mind had quite wonderfully latched onto the realisation that her face was mere inches from Alistair’s.

Welcome to the party, dearest Warden.

Her eyes began to study the little intricacies of his face: that stubble of his that he’d all too often cut himself trying to shave, the wound on his cheek that she’d have to remind him to clean later on, the crease that appeared between his eyebrows whenever he tried to concentrate a little too hard. It all made her want to bring a hand up to cup his cheek, to angle his face so that she might kiss his cheek or, even better, his--

“That bloody wolf is finally gone. I didn’t think--” Alistair turned to face her but words caught in his throat when he saw the way that she was looking at him, a sudden flush painting his cheeks. He swallowed once and finally croaked out the rest of his sentence, voice barely there, “-- I didn’t think your dog was going to-- to pull it off.”

The Warden paused for a moment, then her mouth curled into a grin, breathing out a laugh. He was so terribly awkward that it made her want to take his face in her hands and squish his stupid, idiot cheeks together. She’d want it no other way. “This is romantic, isn’t it?”

At this, Alistair’s nerves eased somewhat and he followed her in chuckling, shaking his head at her remembrance of a decidedly terrible line he’d said while they were stuck in the pit of the world. “Arguably more so than last time. I would’ve liked some flowers or maybe some atmospheric music but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” The Warden replied through laughter, a hand pressed delicately against his chest plate. Their gazes met, expressions softening into something different-- something like love, and her eyes soon flickered down to his lips. His cheeks flushed a darker colour, pupils blown wide.

Just as either one of them were about to make the first move, a bark sounded just outside the gap in the rock above the gentle fullness of Wynne’s laughter. “Ah, to be young and in love.” She mused, looking at them with the same kind of amusement that would befit a grandmother who just found out her teenage grandchild had a crush on someone: hands clasped together and a knowing little smile painted across her lips. “Come on, lovebirds; we have the world to save.”

The Warden shuffled out first, with the help of Alistair who had begun to ramble on to Wynne about how Grey Wardens could “actually telepathically communicate, which is what we were just doing.” Wynne simply murmured back sarcastic agreements, smiling up at Alistair all while trying to stop herself from laughing. Admittedly, even the Warden herself didn’t think they could talk themselves out of that one, though she admired Alistair for trying.

When they finally ambled back to camp after resolving Keeper Zathrian’s werewolf problem, the Warden had gone to sit with Alistair beside the fire as usual. Each time they sat together, they seemed to inch closer, shoulders and hands touching by this point. Sometimes, on cold evenings, the Warden would even rest her head on his shoulder, telling stories of her childhood and tales about the scars that littered her body.

This particular evening, Alistair seemed occupied with something, however-- so much so that he didn’t even respond when the Warden had offered him the crunchy end of the bread that he always begged for. She plonked her chin down on his shoulder and hummed, the vibration catching him off-guard. He turned a little so he could look at her and she pulled away, holding the bread out to him again. “What’s on your mind?”

Alistair pursed his lips, taking the bread and picking at the crust around the outside. “All this time we’ve spent together… you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us…” He dropped his hands into his lap and let his eyes wander back to her. “Will you miss it once it's over?”

She thought for a few moments, gaze boring into the fire like it might give her some kind of answer. “There’ll always be more battles to fight somewhere.” There was a pause before she turned to him, a gentle curiosity about the nature of his question swimming about in her eyes. Though, she said nothing more, allowing him to continue.

“But that doesn’t mean we would necessarily be fighting them together.” His hands were shaking a little more than he would’ve liked and the next breath he released sounded more akin to an owl than anything else. “I know it… might sound strange, considering we haven’t known each other very long, but I’ve come to… care for you.” He stopped, a nervous little smile coming to his face. “A great deal.”

It was safe to say that the Warden knew where this conversation was leading and the pit of her stomach felt like a cauldron, holding an unusual mixture of anxiety and joy, love and fear. She shuffled slightly so that she might face him more, though Alistair, lost in this little confession of his, seemed to be staring off over her shoulder, scared that looking into her eyes would reveal some form of rejection.

“I think maybe it’s because we’ve gone through so much together, I don’t know. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself.” His gaze finally met hers and there was such vulnerability in those depths of amber that it made her want to weep. “Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever…” Maker, her heart was ready to burst, “...feel the same way about me?”

There wasn’t even room for her to think before her lips cracked into a wide grin and she did that little excited giggle of hers. “I already do, Alistair, you idiot.” It was her that pressed forward to kiss him, both hands coming up to cup his face like she’d wanted to ever since he’d donned that delightful blush of his at Redcliffe. The world became enveloped in him and, for a few moments, all thought of the Blight had been replaced with just this overwhelming desire to just… be with him. She wanted to be there whenever he tripped over little logs on their adventures, she wanted to help him choose tunics that compliment his hair colour, she wanted to feel that familiar rush of fighting alongside him-- she wanted him and all that he entails.

The kiss was short-lived but had enough feeling behind it that they pulled away feeling breathless-- as though the Maker Himself had crushed them both together. When they pulled away, Alistair had that pinkish tinge to his cheeks that made the Warden push them together with her hands. “Maker’s breath, you’re handsome.” She pecked his lips again. And, again. In fact, she looked a little bit like a duck.

She finally released his cheeks when his smile became too large to contain. With a laugh and a shake of his head, a hand coming up to try to cool his blush down, he finally lifted the bread she’d given him back up from his lap. “Right, well… that went far smoother than I expected.” He picked at the bread again, averting his gaze and dipping his head down slightly, trying to hide-- to not much avail-- the ever-growing smile upon his lips. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my bread and be off to sleep, lest I pass out entirely on the dirt here.”

The Warden huffed out a laugh, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, before hauling herself to her feet. “Well, I’ll be going to bed then. I’ll be sure to dream of you so…” She took a few steps towards her tent, pondering on her words. “... dream of me too so that we might meet in our sleep, eh? I couldn’t bear to wander the Fade without you.”

With that, she shuffled off to her bedroll, a smile on her face that just wouldn’t budge. Behind her, Alistair was the same, munching on the bread much like the cat who’d caught the canary.

They may have been idiots but at least they could be idiots together.

[unordinary-analysis]

AU-Thoughts: A personality/Role-Swap between Arlo And Seraphina (I thought of this while in the car today LOL!) X'D

(Edit: I hate everything i say in the top half because honestly after doing the bottom part, I don’t really agree anymore, but you know what I put time into this lmao and I need to post something, so yeah. Sorry about this.)

Sorry for late response but i think y’all know that by now lol

I really like this because, as I think I’ve said before, I really think that Seraphina and Arlo are very similar characters. Or, at least, under the right conditions, I think they could have ended up like each other.

The similarities are striking, actually. However, they really only are at that point of time before the story starts. The time that we see in flashbacks. Both Seraphina and Arlo came from impactful backgrounds or at least similar mindsets (Arlo’s background was quite different, but he was put in a similar position to Sera closer to the start of the story). Here’s a quick list of their initial similarities:

- very powerful (royals)

- apathetic to lower-tiers/anyone

- obsessed with their authority:

- Seraphina: obsessed with others viewing her as this perfect royal, a paragon

- Arlo: obsessed with using his command as a royal to maintain order

I didn’t even list indefinite personality traits (apathy is canon for both characters) and it’s easy to see how like their personalities are. I could even argue that Arlo was also obsessed with perfection like Seraphina because he really was obsessed with being the best royal. Not exactly in the same way as Sera, who was more invested in if people thought she was a good royal. Arlo wanted his reign to be just and, well, perfect.

We know Seraphina’s background was very involved with hierarchy, power, perfection. From a young age, Seraphina was shoved into this expectation of becoming the best of her peers by her parents, friends, teachers... She was really engaged in this mindset that she couldn’t let people down. She had to be the best royal because it was her responsibility as the most powerful student. She felt this obligation.

We know Arlo’s background is different. We don’t really know anything about his home life, or his family, but we do know about his experience serving under Rei, who was honestly such an influential presense in Arlo’s life that it probably doesn’t even matter where Arlo came from before that. Rei was the person that made Arlo who he is, though not exactly intentionally.

They’re both at kind of the same place before John transfers to Wellston. Both Sera and Arlo have been almost forced in a way to be part of this heriarchy. Sera by her peers and Arlo’s internal obligation to himself to make Rei proud (also could be exchanged for ‘Arlo’s obligation to fix what Rei had done by creating a perfect balance between destructive chaos and violent tyranny, honoring Rei’s reign, yet ensuring that who’s meant to be on top, stays on top.‘ But that’s too long lol).

The thing is, as Serahina’s friendship with John grew and his influence wore off on her, she gradually became less and less concerned with how others viewed her. While she used to be so concerned about letting people down, John taught her to not care what people thought. This is something that would really confuse the other royals, especially Arlo. Arlo and Seraphina understood each other, or had at some point (I literally talk about something like this in this post about ships a while back) if you scroll down my page). Then, suddenly, Sera replaces the parts of her similar to Arlo with those of John to form a new person that Arlo can’t really comprehend anymore. It’s likely why he tried hard to get her reinvolved in the hierarchy and why he felt that he had to get Seraphina back. I think that either Arlo was attached to the Seraphina that understood him, or maybe attached to her reign beside him as a royal because I know that Arlo was a very logical person, and rarely let his emotions guide his actions. Regardless, I am certain that Arlo missed the old Sera.

Anyway,

Seraphina grew away from Arlo as her personality became less and less similar to his, but it was entirely because of John. John was the sole (right?) cause of Seraphina straying from how she’d acted throughout her whole life.

In a proper au, the personality/role switch would ideally be from the beginning of the story, correct? Not just shoved in at like some random point, like now, because the characters in each situation has grown into it. Beginning Seraphina would not act like recent Seraphina. Same for Arlo. Their storylines have changed them as people and that means if we throw, say, Arlo into Sera’s current storyline, it would not be the same as his character having lived through her storyline for the entire time. This is a basic concept and I hope I’m not making people seem stupid, but maybe a better example is if we threw old Seraphina’s character into her latest storyline (basically: if Seraphina hadn’t changed at all when she became friends with John, which I believe is actually impossible because I don’t think they would be friends if Seraphina hadn’t changed but that’s off topic lol). She would no doubt act more indifferent, or probably be upset that someone more powerful is taking her old place at the head of the school (she doesn’t have her powers at this point, remember).

Because Arlo’s and Seraphina’s starting character traits were so similar

I personally believe that nothing much would be all that different.

So i know this answer is annoying as shit, trust me, but I don’t really think I can really think or prove a world where if Arlo had been put into Sera’s position at the beginning of the story, he would have acted much differently than she did.

If you guys disagree with my answer, cool. I actually do not really support this answer I’ve come up with because I keep thinking, “sure they acted similar in the beginning, but their emotions and what they feel connected to, that is different for both of them, so there’s no way of saying that something wouldn’t affect the storyline along the way. It’s called the butterfly effect.” Or... something like that idk.

Anyway. This is why I’ve decided to have a little more fun with this. Personality switch, I’ve debunked, but a less strict role swap (there’s a difference I swear)? Hell yeah.

Broooooooooo I really want to write out this small description of what this would look like so let’s go :D.

Okay first: let’s determine what roles Arlo and Seraphina have right now.

Seraphina has currently found out that her best friend of like a year, John, (??? I really need to get That timeline worked out) has been hiding something huge from her, something whose coverup gave birth to their friendship. Not only that, but his entire character, which has, Seraphina can’t deny, been getting more and more different for months now, his character, that Sera has grown used and attached to, has been completely flipped on its head. This is the friend that was there for her when Sera lost her powers, when she needed consolation, who gave Sera the courage to stand up to her mother. And he was all a lie.

Arlo has recently been facing a threat to the thing he holds above all else, something he put endless work into: the hierarchy. Arlo has put so much effort into establishing himself as leader, cleaning up after Rei, and making sure the school runs smoothly. He’s dedicated, okay. But then, because he wanted to fix another small part of the hierarchy and get a friend back, Arlo starts involving John, who despises him for it, so much so that after Arlo apologizes for bringing him back into the hierarchy, John says he’ll tear the whole system down (again: the one thing that Arlo is unbelievably attached to). One by one John is hurting his friends and there’s nothing he can do to stop him, nothing he can do. As a final, desperate blow, Arlo reveals a long kept secret to John’s best friend. If this doesn’t work, he has no moves left and he loses all the hard work he put into the hierarchy and has to watch John unravel it all.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way: let’s just... :

Arlo has currently found out that his best friend of like a year, John, has been hiding something huge from him, something whose coverup gave birth to their friendship. Not only that, but his entire character, which has, Arlo can’t deny, been changing for months now, his character, that Arlo has grown used and attached to, has been completely flipped on its head. This is the friend that was there for him when Arlo lost his powers, when he needed consolation, who gave Arlo the courage to stand up to his mother. And he was all a lie.

Seraphina has recently been facing a threat to the thing she holds above all else, something she put endless work into: the hierarchy. Sera has put so much effort into establishing herself as leader, cleaning up after Rei, and making sure the school runs smoothly. She’s dedicated, okay. But then, because she wanted to fix another small part of the hierarchy and get a friend back, Sera starts involving John, who despises her for it, so much so that after Seraphina apologizes for bringing him back into the hierarchy, John says he’ll tear the whole system down. One by one John is hurting her friends and there’s nothing she can do to stop him, nothing she can do. As a final, desperate blow, Sera reveals a long kept secret to John’s best friend. If this doesn’t work, she has no moves left and she loses all the hard work she put into the hierarchy and has to watch John unravel it all.

And guess who’s gonna stop there :DD. Me. I think- I think it’s better if I leave this here actually... Let’s you guys think about it... I don’t really want to write all this out, just trying something. I think it’s pretty good though hmm......

I still kind of think the characters would act similar, but I don’t know. I think the same things would happen regardless of the au, but there’s just something so intriguing about seeing the names in a situation we don’t normally see them in i d k.

Yo I sound so lame. I’m not new to au’s ugh I sound like a try hard don’t I? Lol.

Comment your au’s below or any criticism bye :) I’m too tired to fix this bc I know I sound really contradictory this whole time but I give up lmao (i have a 2% work ethic R.I.P.)