#and you can add characters i might have forgotten

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[badlydrawnronpa]

hi anon ty for sending the message! I did look through their blog and they very obviously use AI - I would've published the ask normally to let other people know but I decided against it in the end because after a closer inspection I noticed that all commissions are fake (besides being fake art I mean) and they're not actually scamming anyone because. uh. literally most of the blogs I saw interact with them are empty rp blogs that are blatantly controlled by them and one of the commissions I saw on their patreon was for a defunct ohsc rp blog from 2014??? Which honestly was really funny.

so yeah, they're very much not pulling any money from that, and on top of it all they posted pics of themselves sooooo yeh, not going to blast them on a blog with a big following for trying the 'i dont use ai im a real artist' but ultimately not scamming anyone out of their money. They're also not the best at like... hiding they're using AI because you can see their traditional art in other posts, and the style or experience level doesn't match at all.

I will post some of their AI stuff underneath the read more and point out the inconsistencies tho, to help out other people in spotting out ai shit (esp non artists that might have an harder time figuring things out). If you find out the original user that posted these, please don't harass them, be civil.

BTW I'M SAYING THIS NOW: if you see something I point out and say ''ah, I do that, I'm in trouble" - no you're not, if you actually draw the stuff yourself. You can see when an artist's work (and mistakes!) are genuine. Beginner's mistakes can be made by experienced artists too, but if you look at their entire body of work you can see when something doesn't add up.

to start off, I saw anon calling them out on this one so I'm just reiterating some of the points, but here's some junko 'art' they made

when confronted abt it, they said that the fingers look weird because they can't control their shaky hands and drawing small is hard. anyway if you draw digitally you can zoom in on the canvas and work on a detail as big as you need, so that excuse doesn't hold

this other post was basically what made me just say 'yep thats ai' and it was just the second 'art' post I saw from them

while taken alone they could've been a little harder to spot as AI, with them all bundled together you can easily see they came from the same prompt; the user tried to justify the inconsistencies saying it was because they were 'experimenting' with the design of their oc and gundham's scar but I'm telling you now, no sane artist fully renders four pieces that are basically the same concept while changing the design of the character just slightly in every single one of them. anyway, here's the breakdown of every piece:

another that was way easier to break down because it's so full of inconsistencies the moment you really take a look at it

also let's be real if you render art like that you're not gonna put a bright purple unreadable text on your supposed vtuber "art"

let's end this with the AI "commission" that could be harder to break down as AI if seen in a vacuum now, shall we? esp because our friend, the fucked up melty finger, isn't there

I honestly had to look for a while at this one because if you had shown it to me and I didn't see the other stuff this person posted, I could've just chalked up a lot of these mistakes to human error. Tangents between lines, scribbles for details, forgotten uncolored sections is all normal stuff. BUT we know this person used AI in all the other posts, so we know what to look at:

again, some mistakes the AI does can be also mistakes actual artists do: be sure to check the other art the user makes before throwing accusations

they also posted a fake speedpaint that is so embarassing it made me laugh but if I start pointing out inconsistencies in an AI speedpaint we're gonna be here for a long time, so.

TL;DR AI 'ART' SIGNS:

The classics: hands and fingers don't make sense, there's additional weird lines and they melt into other part of the drawing

long hair strands and other long or flowy elements can suddenly disappear behind objects and not reappear where they should

jewels, intricate details, hairpins and other accessories bend and melt into each other and other part of the design

the resolution of the image is very low and/or grainy - a lot of artists post lower res pieces online, but again: look for a pattern and combos of all the other signs

inconsistencies between multiple art posts, character designs constantly being different, sudden art style changes - while this can also be found with real artists, this is an additional tell of someone using AI, when combined with the stuff I mentioned above. humans mistakes usually have a reason for what they happen, AI makes them because it doesnt understand what it's doing most of the time

[chaotic-iguana]

dewdrop

in which miguel really, really likes mornings. or maybe not.

warnings: smut-ish? fluff? more of a braindump to get me back into writing. oh also yeah, add miguel to my character list.

morning: the suspension of time between night and day; reality warped and fuzzy and warm in the in-between; soft and slow and dripping like honey. 

the steady weight of an arm resting  on your back, a chest rising and falling under your head. the drag of the hours to come forgotten somewhere under muffled whines and fluttering lashes; greedy, grasping fingers and hungry mouths, burning kisses and whispers getting lost in the frigid air resting her fingers on your lips.

mornings are sacred. mornings are untouched; untainted by anything that was and anything that could be. golden tendrils wrapped around sighs breathed into skin, soft caresses and tangled hair met with gentle grins and gentler hands. 

mornings when even the birds are asleep; flowers slumbering under dew, when your stirring prompts a raspy ‘sleep well?’, as you blink against the blinding light kissing your lashes. when small talk becomes a symphony of moans swallowed by the seal of your mouth on his, when miguel can really take his time taking you apart and putting you back together; lay back as you straddle him and leave burning trails of kisses down his chest, watch your eyes shut and your head tip back as your toes curl, fingers fisting the bedsheet beside him and you’re divine- 

until the steady beeping of his watch signals the end of your stolen time, lyla popping up with a smirk and half-assing her way through a snarky comment while telling him about how ‘there’s another emergency and they need you now’ and day catches up with him again, sinking its claws into the delicate balance of dawn and dragging him with it. until all he can do is kiss your head and work you through it, leaving you under a heap of blankets and whispered praise before ripping off his sweatpants and activate his suit, fists curled in irritation and opening a portal, the breath knocked out of him when he turns for one last glimpse of you splayed out on his bed. until all he can do is handle it until morning comes around again. 

short, i know (sorry). update - i might be coming back?? as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings,@josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk. i know y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

[hoesoflamentation]

𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖐𝖞𝖚𝖚 𝖒𝖊𝖓 + 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖊𝖝

FEATURING !! oikawa tooru, hinata shoyo, tsukishima kei, ukai keishin

all are gn!reader (i use "hole" when discussing penetration). characters are adults. please read the individual warnings for each character!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 (𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈)

𝖔𝖎𝖐𝖆𝖜𝖆

FEELS LIKE PENT-UP RAGE !!

WARNINGS !! dirty talk/strong language, penetrative s3x, creampie

"You miss this cock, baby?" Oikawa taunts, ramming into your aching hole from behind. "You been thinkin' about me when you touch yourself, all alone at night? Wishing I'd come over and make a mess of your pretty little hole?" Overcome with the sensation of his cock curving inside of you, all you can do is give in: "Yes, Tooru, yes!" Oikawa fucks you with all the pent-up rage he's been harboring since the breakup; all the green-eyed envy he's clung to as he's imagined you riding another man to your climax. Like you, he tried to get over you by getting under someone new... but it fills him with unspeakable anger to imagine you doing the same. Each time Oikawa has the intrusive thought of you screaming another man's name -- with the same lips you used to wrap around his cock, no less -- he thrusts deeper and harder inside of you, until your eyes fill with tears. But for all his arrogance, Oikawa has to admit he needs you just as badly as you need him. With every buck of his hips, he lets out a deep groan that betrays just how badly he's missed this... how badly he's missed you. For months, Oikawa had simply been going through the motions: swiping right, sliding into someone new, slipping his clothes back on, and sneaking out in the middle of the night. But as he pumps his cum into you in hot spurts, hugging you around the waist, he wonders if what he's really been searching for has been this -- has been you -- all along.

𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖆

FEELS LIKE MUSCLE MEMORY !!

WARNINGS !! cheating, blowjob, deepthroating

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Hinata whispers, for what has to be the dozenth time. By now, you know him well enough to know what he's really asking: 'are you sure you want me?' And what a dumbass, you think to yourself. Even though it's wrong, even though he has a girlfriend waiting for him downstairs, you have never wanted anything more than you want Hinata right now. But that's one thing you will never say to him out loud. Instead, pressed against your ex in the confines of the closet, you shush him with a kiss and begin unbuckling his belt. "A-ah!" he gasps as his cock springs free from his jeans, surrounded by tufts of soft ginger hair. The party below is soon forgotten as you sink to your knees and take him into your mouth, caressing his shaft with your tongue -- exactly the way he likes it. You know this is how he likes it, because you remember Hinata's body as if it were the words to an old favorite song. "A-ah!" the redhead gasps in surprise as you cup his balls in your hand, your tongue dancing back and forth along his veiny cock. Hinata begins to arch his hips into the motions of your mouth, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck to press himself further down your throat. He breathes deeply, as if to commit your scent to memory, and releases a moan. "God, Y/n, I've been wanting this for so long," Hinata babbles. "I've thought about this every day since we broke up... I can't even cum without thinking about you."

𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖆

FEELS LIKE YOU BELONG !!

WARNINGS !! cheating, dubcon, making out, marking, posessive!tsukki

Tsukishima drags you out of the restaurant, away from your new boyfriend and his friends; his hand locked around your wrist like a steel cuff. Indignantly, you tear your arm from his group and shout, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Without missing a beat, Tsukishima snaps back, "I'm taking you home with me!" Quietly, he adds, "...where you belong." You fall silent, unsure of what to say. If you weren't still in love with him, you might have turned around, gone back inside, and reassured your boyfriend that nothing was going on between the two of you. Except that wouldn't be the truth, would it? You knew it the moment you saw Tsukishima: it wasn't over yet. Maybe that's why, the moment you crawl into the backseat of the Uber, you can't keep your hands off each other. Tsukishima initiates the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours in a dance that feels like sparring. His hand slips up your thigh, squeezing it with a possessive grip; Tsukishima sucks on the delicate skin of your collarbone, leaving an abundance of hickeys as if to say 'Kei was here.' "Mine," he mumbles into your clammy skin. "All mine." And you don't correct him. Because regardless of what happens next, in this moment, your heart belongs to him.

𝖚𝖐𝖆𝖎

FEELS LIKE COMING HOME !!

WARNINGS !! penetrative s3x, creampie, cigarette smoking (ukai, not reader)

It isn't like you to show up on your ex's doorstep in the pouring rain. You feel like some kind of pathetic romcom character, but you will yourself to knock anyways. Ukai answers the door in nothing but your favorite pair of gray joggers, looking like a man who hasn't slept in weeks. "Keishin, I... I fucked up," you admit sheepishly, cheeks surging with heat at the sight of his bare torso. "I never should have left. Please, let me come home." Ukai seems surprised to see you, but not as surprised as you are when he pulls you into a deep kiss, cradling your face delicately in his hands. When you were together, the sex was always great -- but the way he holds you this time is different; more sacred somehow. Ukai doesn't fuck you: he makes love to you, his lips lingering on every dimple and fold of your bare skin; his hands tangling intimately in your hair, refusing to break eye contact with every thrust of his hips. As he's about to cum inside of you, Ukai leans in and whispers in your ear: "God, Y/n, you're perfect... I wish I never let you go." Afterwards, Ukai lights a cigarette, and the air between you grows heavy with unspoken words. "There's the door," he says, feigning nonchalance. "You can leave whenever you want." But despite the lingering awkwardness and his can't-be-assed expression, you know him better than anyone -- and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he wants you to stay. Wordlessly, you curl up on his chest, and the two of you fall asleep in each other's arms.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I was wondering if you could help me with writing scenes where the poverty character is listening to others talk but not talking themselves? Sometimes I worry it's almost like they get forgotten in between all the actions and dialog happening between other characters

POV Character Listening to Conversation

1 - Give Them Lines - I know this is a little bit "Thanks, Captain Obvious," but it is worth considering why it's important for the POV character to only listen and not participate in the conversation at all. Even if the POV character has nothing to add to the topic being discussed, there might be an opportunity or two for them to ask questions or react to what's being said. For example:

Character B's brow crumpled. "Why? What time did they get there?"

"I don't know. Two, maybe three a.m.," replied Character C.

POV character hissed through their teeth. "Talk about early risers..."

2 - Give Them Action - Even if there's a good reason they can't participate in the conversation, like maybe because it's not their place (like a child listening while their parents talk to other adults), they still exist during the conversation, and you can illustrate that by having them interact physically with other characters or the environment. For example:

Character B's brow crumpled. "Why? What time did they get there?"

"I don't know. Two, maybe three a.m.," replied Character C.

POV character craned their neck to hear better.

Or...

Character B's brow crumpled. "Why? What time did they get there?"

"I don't know. Two, maybe three a.m.," replied Character C.

POV character flipped to the time sheet on the clipboard and handed it to Character C. "Oops, I was off a bit. Four-thirty a.m.," C amended.

3 - Give them exposition - Another option is to give the POV character some exposition, letting them describe their observations to the reader, process what they're seeing and hearing, and express how they feel about it. So, for example:

Character B's brow crumpled. "Why? What time did they get there?"

"I don't know. Two, maybe three a.m.," replied Character C.

POV character craned their neck to hear better. The noise from the nearby freight yard made it difficult to hear what B and C were saying. POV's nerves were already on edge without the added fear of missing important details. But C was soft-spoken on the best of days. You could be standing right next to them and not hear what they were saying.

In most cases you're probably going for a combination of these techniques, depending on the limitations of the situation.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[lucrezianoin]

Astarion-centric fics recs (49 fanfics)

I will divide them by ship. They are all complete unless specified. Also, if a fic is not here it does not mean that I did not like it, I could have forgotten it or just not seen it given that there is a lot of Astarion content!

Just make sure to read all the tags warnings when you open the AO3 page. I added the non-ship focused but Cazador focused ones at the end.

Also it feels weird to rec my own fics, but in case you want to read astarion h/c I am writing you can find me here at LadyRagnelle (for now all DarkUrge or Tav/Astarion).

Regarding if this reclist might be useful for you... there are a lot of Astarion fics, a lot of tags used and a lot of preferences! I have a very particular preference for a specific kind of fic (h/c, whump, softness, mainly) and in the case of Astarion I tend to not read nsfw, usually. So if you have been around my blog and you think we might share fics preferences... maybe these are the fics for you too! I will update this post with time.

I am trying to add a small description to all the fics, but I prioritized adding the links, so some of them do not have a description yet, but they were beloved in my bookmarks.

GEN (no ship)

Prying eyes (unsupermarket) - One of my absolute favorite. Karlach and Astarion share one of Astarion's nightmares (thanks to the tadpoles).

Reflecting endless down the hall (Asidian) - Each chapter is dedicated to one of the companions and the way they interact with Astarion, each chapter connected to a part of his past and trauma.

TAV (OR DARK URGE)/ASTARION

After all that I can do for them is done (votiveviscera)

To Aid and be aided (Beppoberry) - Post Cazador, taking care of each other.

Between the lines (Slothquisitor) - Amazing story about Tav gifting Astarion books.

Broken mechanism (laquearia) - Character study on Astarion's "Don't touch me".

Copper blood and silver hearts (netherprince)

The darkest corner of Baldur's Gate (Nebulad)

(Don't) lose your head (CL34R)

Don't you hear me praying? (ridgeline) - Short haunting story about Astarion's trauma.

And his pretty hand hold my leash (osiris_ryes) - one of the few nsfw fics in this rec list. This has some amazing Dark Urge writing and manages to use nsfw scene without ignoring the consent issues present in the game.

Hold me without hurting (fairbutnotsomaiden) - Astarion disassociates, Tav is kind.

I could feel my life begin (Flowercitti)

I have a good place to hide (Flowercitti)

I know how this will end (MyFandomCausesHanaji) - Amazing Dark Urge story about Durge trying to stop themselves from killing Astarion - and reliving the same day over and over.

A long dead pulse (enthugger) - Post-Cazador, Tav takes care of Astarion.

Made / Unmade (Adaphyl)

Mortal shortfall (titasylase) - Giving a gift to Astarion + act 1 angst, perfect combination.

Not something that I was but what I played (WitchyBee)

Out of wine and flowers (enthugger)

Porcelain (cweepa) - Astarion is sick, and he really cares about how he looks. Absolutely stunning story full of very delicate hurt/comfort and angst. I've reread this so many times.

Savages (cweepa) - Astarion finds a kitten.

Seducere (Tlon) - This is THE fanfic. I remember waiting every night for the new chapter. It narrates Astarion's past and his present in the game. Heartbreaking and haunting.

Specter (justfortune) - post game fanfic about Tav and Astarion's new life together, with some interesting concepts about personal space and sharing life.

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream (Flowercitti) - I love Flowercitti's stories so so much. This one is specifically about consent. Please, read all their fics.

Vanity items (Flowyen) - Incomplete fic, but still amazing. Just Astarion receiving genuine compliments.

You only feel it when it’s lost (gettin’ through still has a cost) (Flowercitti) - Flowercitti's Tav takes care of Astarion after Cazador.

The way you are (imprinted on a page) (cryptidvaquero) - Tav draws Astarion as a gift.

Was it something you ate (Anoke)

Water down what I call being grateful (Flowercitti) - This fic was written for one of my prompts. I will be eternally grateful because I love stories that deal with looking right through Astarion's seductions.

HALSIN/ASTARION

Animal I have become (Ulfrsmal)

Free (Faetality)

Handmande (BerlinBelin) - One of my favourite, absolutely stunning series about touch starved Astarion trying to ask (with difficulty) fo non-sexual intimacy.

Known in its aching (BerlinBerlin) - sick fic with so much tenderness.

Never gonna fall for (modern love) (Dwinkle) - Halsin offers Astarion his blood.

Through sneers and words snide (BerlinBelin)

HALSIN/TAV/ASTARION

Working on it (casswathever) - Very well written series with multiple fics, I particularly loved the relationship discussions.

WYLL/ASTARION

To die with you (WaterSeraphim)

A dream of sweet things (Asidian) - delicious h/c, trust issues and some nightmares too.

Innocence died screaming (Flowercitti) - Wyllstarion fic that starts from Astarion's past with Cazador, from his turning into a spawn. Ongoing.

KARLACH/ASTARION

Repairs (Asidian) - Heartbreakingly angsty fic about Karlach finding her touch again and Astarion expecting their first night to go a certain way.

The Things you miss (Asidian) - A very sweet fic about Karlach and Astarion interacting.

ASTARION/SEBASTIAN

A lyric on your tongue (justfortune) - Sebastian and Astarion meet.

GALE/ASTARION

The heat is only skin deep (ThatKorka)

POLY

Sharing (Asidian) - a touch of angst, touch starved characters, act 1 spoilers so slightly present consent issues.

CAZADOR-FOCUSED (no secondary ship)

Fake it (deerna)

Lost and never found (arenathesia)

Thou art mine (sophos) - The story of Astarion learning how to keep Cazador happy.

your reflection can't offer a word (to the bliss of not knowing yourself) (undermounts)

[theygotlost]

good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming. 

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent]. 

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language]  and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW). 

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 15/Sept/2023

As I’m fast approaching my end date for planning, I’m barely able to contain myself for getting writing! :D

Though I have got a list of some ‘housekeeping’ I want to do once I get started. There’s definitely some things I’ve learned with coding that I can streamline, so I’ll be adding those in before I get going on the opening scene (which hopefully will certainly leave an impact…;D).

I’ve also got to make a final decision on a certain new stat I’m thinking of adding.

I’m wondering whether to add a stat for ‘Agency Reputation’. This wouldn’t be like the hidden stat that tracks how the overall supernatural community views the MC but would show what your colleagues at the facility think of your character.

It would be a text-based stat and would be things like: heroic, feared, resilient, etc.

But there’s already personality stats and new Agency skill stats, so I’m not sure adding something ELSE would be a good idea. Might just be too much to track for me for coding, as well as too much information for the player.

Yet, I do really like the idea of making playthroughs even more individual, but I guess something like reputation is something I could headcanon for my characters…so I’m undecided.

(I realise it seems like I’m blabbering, hehe! But I like to share, if I can, the process of how I work these things out and so you can get a sense of where I’m at and why things do or don’t get added!)

The Book One refresh is really coming on a pace too! I’m only getting the weekends to work on that as I like to focus on Book Four during the work week, but I’m still managing to push on with it. I’m also taking the opportunity to note down anything I may have forgotten from Book One as I go, as I can clearly remember the big moments, but the smaller ones are still impactful and I might want to bring up in future books.

Hope you all have the most fabulous weekend! We’ll be offline, so I’ll talk to you all again next week!

[beautifulterriblequeen]

S7 Runaan

I gotta look at him. I gotta look. What's he got

ONE:

His hair is still dungeony. He hasn't redone it. Is he expecting to meet Ethari soon and he just wants his husband's hands in his hair again, like always? Is he grossed out by his dungeon hair and doesn't want to touch it? Is he ashamed of his long assassin hair? (put it in a bun, sir!) Has he just. forgotten it's there. Dork.

His hair is waiting for Ethari, that's all there is to it.

TWO:

HE HAS A SHIRT. MY BOY. Runaan deserves dignity. It looks like a very Moonshadow shirt, navy blue and gray with swirls all over it. He's rolled up the sleeves, which is extremely hot of him. And it is a bit short at the waist, too (thank you TDP for that visible slice of Runaan's hip).

Headcanon: this is Lujanne's Rayla's own shirt and it's nice and tight and a bit too small for Runaan's tall rangy body but he'll take it because it's soft and comfy and better than nothing.

THREE:

Runaan isn't carrying his bowblade. We know Rayla has it, somewhere. Which means he is choosing not to carry it/be seen with it, in Katolis. He's making a choice to come with empty hands instead of a weapon, hoping not to be stabbed or shot on sight. Good luck with that, my man, they will NOT be happy to see you. But what else can you do to begin your amends?

I think Rayla might still have it somewhere, ready for him to use in a sudden moment of danger, but he could be doing the same thing Viren did with his staff. Viren didn't want to pick up the relic staff again because of what it represented to him - his own self, darker, harder, and making choices that hurt people. Runaan's bowblade has the same kind of weight. He may have it close to hand, but he may not want to touch it, let alone wield it, anytime soon.

That's not to say he won't be forced into a situation where using his bowblade would make things better - but also worse. I mean, this is TDP.

FOUR:

The situation that's giving him this pose may be that exact situation already. He's recovered his Hard Assassin Eyes here, even though his hands are empty and Rayla is actively guarding him with her swords. They've run into someone, or something, that's threatening them, and Rayla has to take point on defense. And Runaan is letting her, at least in this specific moment.

Who have they met? Judging by events earlier in the show, it could be Amaya again, which would add the whole layer of an Amaya vs Rayla repeat showdown at the Banther Lodge. At this point, Amaya and Rayla have hugged and become friends, nearly family. But Amaya's whole job when the assassins came was to try to save Harrow - and she wasn't in time. Being back at this location would probably put her in a very particular mood, and I don't think it'll clash well with Runaan's presence. Not at all.

Will I be getting my long-wished-for fight between Amaya and Runaan? Even if it's interrupted and no one is truly hurt, I would LOVE to see them go at each other. Their tactics are so different, I just want to see a silly lil skirmish, plssss.

FIVE:

Pure speculation here, but it's possible that Amaya and Janai flew Ezran to Katolis to help - since their hotcats are here with him against what looks to be human architecture. And then Amaya departed from Ezran's location to the Banther Lodge, possibly for supplies for the wounded and survivors. Leading to this second screenshot serving as Amaya bringing Runaan back with Rayla, and we get to see the mixed expressions of these characters. Callum's in particular - Rayla would not be parted from Runaan willingly, so she could still be standing beside him, possibly arrested with him, and Callum has to stand behind his brother the king and see her trying to defend the indefensible, her stabby dad who killed Ezran's stabby dad.

I'm adding a few more grains of sand to the scales in favor of it being Runaan because of this other screenshot from S6, which turned out to be him facing down Viren - another adult who helped ruin his life.

Anyway, whatever happens here, we will see it in four months! FOUR MONTHS UNTIL RUNAAN WITH A SHIRT Y'ALL AAAAHH

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

four | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You hadn’t realised moving right along your hemisphere would be enough to change the weather. The UK is cold and often rain-soaked, while Genovia has been nothing but sunny. It's a nice change, and the sun on your skin almost removes the insecurity of wearing a dress that isn’t yours. You feel pretty. You feel as yourself as you have in the days since this whole thing began. 

“Sorry,” James says, standing in the sunshine with his hands crossed primly behind his back, “you’re what?”

You sit up properly in the window seat. He deserves every ounce of respect that you can give him, he’s been nothing but caring and kind since you met. You almost regret your decision to leave, if only because you wont get to witness him and his nice friends. 

Who will be separated once again, your brain adds helpfully. Thanks to you. 

“I'm going home.” Your sketchbook is supple under your hands, a thick and expensive leather bending from the force of your squeeze.  

He has the most professional look on his face you've ever seen from him. “If you’ve forgotten something-”

“James,” you say. You'd said quite plainly only moments ago your intentions. “I can't be a princess.” You soften your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“You are a princess. By blood.”

Sleeping on it hasn't made it a truth that’s any easier to accept. You are biologically the daughter of the late Prince of Genovia. He was your father, and now he’s dead. It is agonising to think of, and so you can’t. You look down at the sketchbook pressed flush to your linen skirts, the fabric plain and yet gorgeously rendered. It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever worn. You wonder if they might let you keep it after you renounce your title. 

“I can't do this,” you say quietly. 

You’re ashamed of yourself, but you really can't do this. You cannot live through your life changing in such a huge way, you aren’t built for it; you've only just learned to function in your tiny flat on your equivalent uni course. You’re finally in a position, as lonely as it might be, where you feel okay with who you are. If you were to accept the task theyre trying to hoist upon you, become a princess, live forever in the limelight surrounded by a better breed of royal, it’ll destroy you.

“You can. Of course you can.”

You look up cautiously. James’ mouth is set in a line. He looked so pleased when he walked in, and he'd given you a compliment subtly and easy as breathing. You worry he wants to take it back now that you’ve thrown in the towel, but he’d never do anything so spiteful. And it’s silly —you’re thinking about a compliment while his life and job are teetering. 

It’s just one of the reasons you aren't cut out for this. 

“It’s your job to be a good judge of character, right? You read people,” you say tentatively. 

He nods. “Yeah. That’s how I know you can do this.”

You set aside your sketchbook and pencil, wringing your hands together as you stand. “You must see it, James. I’m not meant for this, I’m…” Weak, you won't say. There's no use in dramatics. You plaster a smile over your worrying and wear it like you're sure of yourself. “It will be better for everyone if I give up now.”

James looks over his shoulder. Upon his entry, the guard at your side had moved to the doorway to stand with Daniels, and so the room is empty besides the two of you. He takes a step toward you, and he drops his head noticeably. As if he could intimidate you when he's so so sweet. 

“It won't be better for everyone,” he says slowly. “Not for the people of Genovia, they need an heir to take the throne.”

“Julianna–”

“Julianna isn't eligible.” He shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain. But Genovia needs a queen, a good queen, someone with a good heart.”

Your heart leaps into your throat at the idea of ruling. “James, you don't even know me. I could ruin everything.”

“You said it yourself, Princess. I’m a good judge of character.”

You fall silent. You don't want to argue with him, you don't have even an ounce of malice for him. 

"You're a princess, you– you haven't even tried," he says pleadingly. 

You trick yourself into thinking James wants you to stay because he wants to be your friend. You know you're desperate for one. Back home, the closest you have to friends are the people who wait at the same bus stop each morning and each night, or your classmates at the college. James could be your friend, you know he would be if you stayed. He's remarkably kind. 

But James wants you to stay for a myriad of reasons. For Genovia. For his friends. 

"I just want to go home," you confess weakly. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and throat, a lump you can't swallow. 

"Okay," James says. "Alright." 

He nods at you, a picture of a perfect professional, and turns to leave. You open your mouth to say something, but you don't have a clue as to what, and by the time he's left the room you've drummed up nothing more than a pitiful, "James." 

You're part way to unexplainable tears when Remus appears. He looks startled at your expression, and you can't make any sense of it yourself, so you mumble, "Please don't ask." 

"Do you want a tissue?" he asks sympathetically. 

You shake your head. 

Remus looks unhappy again, as he had on the plane. His pale skin is nearly grey. You debate asking if he's doing okay, but you've just told him to leave you alone. You assume from his expression he'd prefer the same. 

"Do you want to come have some dinner with me?" he asks. 

"That's okay, I don't think I'll be in need of any etiquette training after all," you say. 

"As friends," he says. "Please. I don't like going down to the kitchen by myself, Marlene harasses me." 

Marlene, a dark haired, dark-eyed girl with a sweetheart shaped face and hands covered in tiny burns, does harass Remus, but not in the way you'd thought. 

"Eat up, Moony," she says, placing yet another plate in front of him, bringing the total up to ten. 

You sit thigh to thigh with him on a small bench set aside in a room just off the kitchens that says 'Staff Only' on the door. Despite this, no one has objected to your sitting down. At least, not yet. 

"Marlene, I physically cannot eat all this." 

"Ah, but the Princess will help." Marlene smiles at you. She seems genuine. "She needs to get used to our cuisine." 

You can't endure the awkwardness of explaining your situation. You smile 'til your eyes crinkle in the corners and take a big mouthful of some mysterious soup rather than speak. 

"Ah, Remus, we've been making bone broth for Her Majesty, it's supposed to do wonders for your heart," Marsha adds. She's the opposite of Marlene but no less beautiful, pale and blonde as cornsilk with fine eyebrows and translucent lashes. In the sun leaking in from the window, she's quite golden. "We can set you some aside whenever we make it for her, love." 

Remus smiles. "Thank you." 

Marsha and Marlene both sequester themselves again behind the huge silver ovens. You've never seen anything like it, a marvel of modern machinery in the industrial instrumentation that heats the room. The windows have been thrown open to combat the thick and fragrant air, but you're still sweating. 

"D'you need a drink?" he asks. 

"I can't get them." 

"Please, Princess. I don't need another person trying to take care of me." He doesn't say it spitefully, but you're sorry all the same. 

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to patronise you–" 

"I know," he says, standing up. "Trust me, I know. You're just being polite, because you're nice." He smiles. "I'll get us a carafe, okay?" 

A carafe. Of what? Do royals drink only from carafes? Is it weird to ask for a coke? You turn your gaze back to the rich foods that have been laid out in front of you and pick up a fork. Then, upon reflection, you swap the fork for the appropriate one, and finish the small portion of chicken ragù you'd set aside. 

"Ah-ha!" a familiar voice calls. "Y/N! Here you are. Is my Remus with you, or are you very hungry?" 

You twist on the bench to face him. "Your Remus?" 

Your question slipped out, really. Sirius grins and sits down to your right. "We have to talk funeral." 

"Oh. Alright." 

He clasps your forearm for a gentle second.

"Sorry. Truly. I'm so sorry for your loss. I promise I'll make this as easy for you as I can, okay? You'll be in the public eye, and I want to make sure you do nothing that anyone can fault you for." 

He has a strange mouth. Not ugly, a million miles from it, but unexpected. It pulls down into a grimace as he talks, his hand patting yours. 

"I won't have to speak, will I?" 

He shakes his head firmly. "No. All you have to do is look pretty and dress well. You're already doing the first part beautifully by yourself, and I will make sure you have plenty of options for the second part, yeah?" 

"Oh, hi, Sirius," Remus says, back with a carafe and two glasses.

"Hello," Sirius says, "did you get asked about the bone broth yet?" 

Remus sits on your other side and huffs. "Yes. Did you put them up to that?" 

"The opposite! I told them not to bug you about it because bone broth sounds a little…" 

"Old-fashioned?" 

"Inhumane." 

You laugh and fail to smother it with the back of your hand. It feels weird because it hadn't explicitly been a conversation involving you, but neither tell you off or give you a funny look. Remus laughs at your laughing and pours your drink for you, a pale orange liquid topped by slices of orange, blood orange and white flowers. 

You take a cautious sip. 

"Have you seen my darling James this morning?" Sirius asks Remus from behind you. 

"Not since he left my room."

You choke on your drink. Hands smashed to your mouth, juice drips down your arms and ruins the bodice of your dress, sticky orange and spit everywhere. The boys either side of you splutter in shock, though Sirius begins to laugh as Remus presses a tissue into your hands. 

"Are you okay?" Remus asks, patting your back. 

"I'm fine," you say hoarsely, wiping yourself down with impressive speed as the heat of embarrassment rises. 

"Something go down the wrong pipe?" 

You're honest by accident, extremely startled by your choking and the subsequent question, "I didn't know James and Remus– that you were– sorry, I was just surprised–" 

"Oh, no," Remus says, sounding almost as embarrassed as you now, "no, we aren't. I mean, he's my best friend. He's like my brother." 

"Oh," you say, squeaking, desperately hoping the ground will open up and eat you whole. 

"We aren't romantically involved," Remus says, and you get the sense that's where he plans to end this conversation. 

"Yet," Sirius whispers in your ear. 

Remus shakes his head at you solemnly. 

Desperate to get away from an awkward conversation despite Sirius' good humour, you stand up from the bench and duck your head at both of them. "Um, I'll just go get some paper towels. Sorry. For spitting." 

"Forgiven," Sirius says easily. 

You rush away from them both out of the alcove and into the main body of the kitchen. Heads turn as you walk, and some staff even take the time to incline their heads to you like a small bow, but you ignore them all and head straight for Marlene. She smiles when she senses your approach, full lips cherry red and shiny as she asks, "Is there something I can do for you, Your Highness?" 

"I'm so sorry," you begin, "I've made a mess, could I get some kitchen towel? Sorry." 

"Of course! Can I have someone come and clean it up for you?" 

"No, please, it's my mess, and you've been gracious enough to allow me in your space. I couldn't have anyone else do it." 

"It's really no problem," Marlene says, but she walks to the utility cupboard south of the huge pantry and produces a roll of kitchen towels for you. 

"Thank you." Then, because you might be leaving soon, and she should know, "I– I've never had so many nice foods at once. I can't cook, at home. Everything I eat is from a jar or a tin," —you cough, worried that was an overshare— "and it's nothing compared to all of this. You guys are amazing." 

Marlene's smile softens. You hadn't realised she was being diplomatic until genuineness welled to the surface of her expression, her eyes suddenly brighter, and her smile unrestrained. "We work hard, and we love what we do. Thank you, Your Highness."

You rub your lips together and nod. Spinning on your heel, you navigate out of the kitchen as quickly as you can without running clean into someone and return to the staff alcove, where Remus and Sirius sit with their heads together, in the middle of a conversation you can't hear. 

You hesitate a few steps away. Remus smiles widely, so widely his face changes completely, and Sirius' hand drifts to his elbow. His thumb presses into the crook, and they both giggle together like kids. You're paranoid that they're laughing at you, and wondering how you could think for even a second that Remus was sleeping with James, when Sirius tucks his hair behind his ear and says, "I can't believe we're finally in the same place again." 

You back away. Not sure what to do with yourself, not sure if what you've already done is the wrong thing. You're guilty, and you're afraid of making the wrong choice, having already made it.

A hand pats your shoulder. 

"Sorry, Mikkelson," you say. 

It's not Mikkelson. James' hand lingers on your shoulder for a half second before he takes a step back. 

"Walk with me?" he asks. 

—

James takes you out to the Palace Gardens. You insist on walking side by side, and he agrees for the most part because here is where you're best protected.

"I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly. I had something to do. How are you feeling?" 

"How am I feeling?" you ask softly. "I don't…" 

"You had some very big news yesterday. So, how are you feeling?" 

You squint in the sun. James supposes you aren't used to it, considering you'd been living in one of the rainiest cities in the UK, which is one of the greyest countries in the world. 

"I feel fine," you say. 

Truth or lie. Probably a lie, but James can't call you out on it, considering your relatively new relationship. A professional relationship at that, the lines of which he has already crossed multiple times. 

He can't help it. You're not weak, you aren't in need of his protection for lack of character —you're quite obviously very brave considering the insane pressure of your situation. Brave, but it's James' job anyhow to be your shield. 

You get this look on your face like you're deep in thought, he's seen it every day since he met you five days ago, and it reminds him of his melancholy friends. He wonders how he's going to get rid of it. 

"I've spoken to our Palace doctor." Even though it is not his job, James seems to have taken on the majority of your care. Your lady in waiting has yet to arrive, and Sirius is rather busy arranging your presence at your father's funeral (and hounding Remus, having missed him dearly). "She would love to have an appointment with you, to assess you, and to adjust for your medical needs. But it's not the physical that I'm concerned about, it's your head." 

"My head." 

"Yes. I would love for you to talk to a counsellor, or a therapist while you're here." 

"What's the point?" you ask sincerely. 

"Your father has passed away," he says. "That takes a toll." 

"I didn't even really know him." You speak so softly to him, like you're worried your voice will disrupt the summer air. 

"I know. That doesn't always make it easier. I want you to experience the compassion and care that you deserve, that's all. If you don't want to talk to anyone, I understand. But if you'll humour me, I'd appreciate it." 

"When… do you want me to see her?" 

"The doctor?" James winces at his own surprise. "You can see her whenever you want to. She's completely at your discretion." 

"Oh, okay. Well, when is best for her?" 

James doesn't smile, but he wants to. "I believe she goes home to pick up her son at six. So before then would probably suit her best. But she's on call twenty four hours a day and paid well, I promise." 

"Okay. Um. Well, how do I do that? Make an appointment, or?" 

"I can make it for you. Or Sirius can."

"I can't make it myself?" 

"No, you can. Do you want me to call for someone to get her? Or you can ask the phone to connect you?" 

You stop walking at your slow pace and turn your body to the beds of flowers lining the path. Small and dainty flowers much like a Californian wildflower bloom contained to rows. 

"Would you mind doing it for me?" you ask. You sound shame-faced. 

"No, I wouldn't mind. When do you want to see her?" James asks. 

"Not today, please. Maybe tomorrow." 

James makes a mental note to ask you about it tomorrow. She really is on call —there's no need to make an appointment. But there's also no need to correct you and no need to worry about it now. 

"The Prince, may he rest in peace, will be buried in five days. You're sure you don't mind staying until then?" He doesn't want you to leave, but the memory of your plea twists his guts. I just want to go home.

"I–yes. Of course. I owe it." 

James doesn't know about that. But the Prince never did any harm to you, though he never made any efforts to take care of you, and so it won't hurt for you to attend. Still…

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. I know that Lily and Emmeline stressed that your presence was desired, but that's political. It's the image of the country, of our country. And the UK, who's royal family, as you know yourself, are deeply embroiled in scandal and, ah, what's thought to be empty rhetoric." 

You're starting to look rather frazzled. James decides to pull back his professionalism a touch. 

"Genovia protects the image of the Royal family because they've seen how ire builds in other countries. Deserved ire. They want it to seem as though you are cohesive, cooperative, and not–" 

"A secret." 

"Yes. If you'd gone to Oxford, they would've lied," —he shouldn't be saying this, for the record— "and said you'd been extradited for your safety. Or spun some tale about a normal childhood." 

"But I'm a drop out who lives in a one bedroom flat." 

"Yes." He watches the side of your face. Your eyes are glued to the flowers and unwavering. "I don't think there's any shame in that." 

"Thanks," you mumble. 

You don't believe him. He doesn't mind. He has plenty of time to convince you of your worth. 

"Would you like to pick some of the flowers?" he asks. 

"I don't want to ruin anyone's hard work." 

"They won't mind." 

You crouch down, reaching for the flowers. Your fingers weave through the dark stems of gorgeous purple and pink flowers, their colours so marvellously vibrant yet their shapes elegant enough to suit. You choose a purple flower with white edges and pick it gently. After a moment, you pick a second. 

You stand, holding the flowers between your thumb and forefinger. 

You clutch your flowers like small lifelines as he walks you back into the palace. You worry audibly about the location of your new sketchbook, and don't seem to like it when one of the guards who'd been watching you this morning seamlessly removes himself from a wall with the book in hand. 

James asks you what you want to do and you don't know. You aren't hungry, you aren't in the mood for movies or music and it might seem disrespectful for you to be seen at the theatre —not that James thinks you would spend much time there anyhow. You don't want to do anything at all, so James suggests that you retire to your private quarters and have some time to yourself. 

He takes up station by the door, listening to the dull scratching of your pencil for a good hour. He wonders if, occasionally, you're talking to yourself: there isn't much to go off of, the suggestion of your voice rather than the reality. You could be humming. You might be clearing your throat. 

An hour later and there's silence. 

James pulls his radio from his shoulder. Guarding you when you aren't up for talking is, unfortunately, rather dull. And he worries what it is you're upto; quiet is indicative of absence. 

"Sirius?" he asks the radio. 

Sirius does not often wear a radio, and he has his pager even less. It's a wonder he gets anything done. 

"James?" Remus asks, his voice crackling over the channel. 

"Hey, is Sirius with you?" 

"He's not. He's assembling a potential funeral wardrobe for Her Highness. Do you want me to go look for him?" 

James almost laughs. "I have people for that. Mikkelson?" 

He can practically hear Mickey's groan at being picked on before the man picks up his radio and says, "Yeah, sir?" 

"Find Mr. Black, won't you? Thank you." 

Hoping Sirius is on his way, James knocks your door. 

He, professionally (and he is trying so hard to be a professional), should call you Princess or Your Highness. But both titles make your skin crawl now that they're fact, so he opts for neither. 

"Are you alright in there?" he asks. 

You don't answer. James sighs and eases open your door. He wouldn't usually, not every silence is ominous, and your privacy is a right, but your safety is the priority and at the moment you're a high level target whether James agrees with that assessment or not. If he were to ignore protocol, and you were annihilated, he would go to prison for a long, long time. 

You're asleep at the desk. 

James is honestly surprised. It can't be comfortable, and your bed is probably one of the comfiest in the world with a state of the art orthopaedic mattress and duck-down pillows and quilts. What's worse, your desk chair is solid wood and likely fifty years old. The crick in your neck and the damage to your back will be extraordinary. 

And yet, it isn't James' job to wake you up. 

Professionally, James should leave. He should go back to his posting at the door. He has no need to wake you. 

You're frowning in your sleep. When you wake, he imagines you'll have graphite rubbed into your cheek. 

James sighs and leaves the room. 

"You wanted to see me?" Sirius asks, sounding spritely as he walks down the hallway toward him. 

"Hello," James says, and if they were in school he would stand up from a slouching pose against the wall and collect Sirius into a bear hug, slapping his back, maybe pulling a lock of his hair while saying something flirtatious. 

He stands at rigid attention. 

"Drop the stance, my love," Sirius says. James snorts. "There's no one here to see you." 

"It's not the point." 

"I know. What did you want? I'm quite busy." 

"Could you start carrying your pager, please? Or better, a radio? Then you wouldn't have to cross the entire building to find me." 

"You could've called me?" Sirius suggests. 

"I don't have a phone while I'm working." 

"Well, that's silly."

"I was…" He lowers his voice. "I'm worried the Princess is lonely." 

"Then go talk to her." 

"I can't. You know as well as I do that the point of my being here is to protect her to the best of my ability, and that requires an unaffected point of view. I can't give her my full attention while giving her safety my full attention, that doesn't add up." 

"Then grab a couple of other men and then go speak to her." 

"This is my job, Sirius. I'm paid to do this." 

"Not paid to make sure she's in company," Sirius says. He smiles at James like he's won the argument and James, brimming with brotherly affection, wants to chop him in the stomach. 

"Her mental health–" 

"Yes, I know. Just as important as physical. And while you wear the badge with pride, James, it still isn't your job." Sirius leans against the wall opposite. The hallways here are huge. It is quite the gap. "I was thinking I'd make her an appointment with Cindy." 

"She said she'll make one tomorrow." 

"Oh, brilliant. You know, Cindy's getting a divorce?" 

"I didn't know that," James says. "How do you know that?" 

Sirius taps the side of his nose before crossing his arms tightly across his chest, looking smug. "She's very single now, Jamie. And very pretty, she's a redhead." 

"Sirius…" 

Sirius stands, stretches and meets James at your doorway. "Okay, fine, I can see you're not in the mood." 

"It's not because of you." 

"I know that, thanks," Sirius says, stepping on James' steel-capped boot as he pushes past him. 

"Sirius–" 

Sirius pulls his hand back from your door handle. "What?" he asks.

"She's sleeping. Try to wake her nicely." 

"If she's sleeping, why does she need company?" 

James nods toward your door insistently. 

Sirius does as he's being asked because he's a sweetheart with entirely too much time for James, despite also being on the clock. James can't see anything from his position, but he can hear your conversation. 

Sirius lets himself into the room. He likely shakes your shoulder with care as he says, "Princess Y/N, poor darling, are you alright?" 

"Sorry," you say scratchily. Here James thinks you might've lifted your head and discovered the crick in your neck. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I supposed to be somewhere?" 

"No." There's an unmistakable fondness in Sirius tone, hiding just beneath the practised facade that comes with working for Royalty. "Do you want me to help you into bed? Or call for an attendant?" 

"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… Sorry. What did you need?" 

"I have some clothes picked out for you to wear to the funeral proceedings. I want your opinion, but I don't need it right now. You can go back to bed if you like." 

"No," you say. James feels for you. No, no, no. "I can do whatever you need me to." 

"Why don't you freshen up, first? James stole you at dinner, I'll go have him order something sweet to the fitting rooms, alright?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."  

Sirius emerges from your room and gives James an elbowing. "You could've woken her up. You're not heartless." 

"I'm technically not allowed in there if she doesn't permit me." 

"She doesn't know that, and I'm sure she'd prefer a wake up call than to be left like that." Sirius rubs one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry, I'm not shouting at you. But I really don't think you need to worry about permission and not speaking to her. She's not Julianna," his voice drops to a murmur, "she doesn't think she's above us." 

"I don't care if she does," James says honestly. Not because he thinks you should feel superior, but because he learned a long time ago that people do, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. "Mary's back tomorrow. If she catches even a whiff of how I've been behaving–" 

Sirius holds James' gaze. "Poor girl had pencil on her face." 

"Yes." 

"They're going to eat her alive." 

"Probably." 

"But we won't let them," Sirius says. 

"Not willingly." 

Sirius nods. "Are you coming with us?" 

"Yeah." He checks his watch. "Couple hours left yet 'til six. Are you off at the same time?" 

"No, are you kidding? I finish at three like a normal person." 

"That's not normal. Ever heard the phrase nine to five?" 

"Normal compared to the royals, who work never to never." 

James shushes him. Sirius shushes James back. 

"Are we ready to go?" you ask. 

James grins at the shock on Sirius' face, as if to say, What, you didn't hear her? Even though he'd barely heard your approach himself. A picture of politeness, Sirius ushers you down the hallway with him. 

You trek down onto the first floor, through the huge foyer and into the main section of the palace hiding behind the grand banquet hall. Here resides the fitting rooms, not too far from the servants quarters in case the tailors or maids are required. 

Sirius calls for an attendant despite the horror on your face at the suggestion as he leads you into the biggest fitting room. It's almost like a shop, in that it houses racks upon racks of clothing no doubt loaned in for Sirius' perusal. 

He drags a smaller rack to the centre of the room. 

"How do you feel about trying things on? Do you need a partition?" Sirius looks at you for a few seconds. "I'll call for one." 

You look like you've been slapped. 

James clears his throat. "He knows you're shy," he says. 

You take that much better. "Yeah. I do want the partition. Please." 

James weighs up the possibility of your possible murder and decides the chances are still too high to offer to leave. He truly won't be able to see you behind the partition, and it's not worth the administrative hell in any case. He hates how his job makes him constantly aware of how you might be murdered, but he likes knowing he could protect you with force. It evens out. 

"A fancy education may have helped me be where I am today, but it doesn't account for style or taste." Sirius smiles, propping himself on the arm of a suede armchair. "Which is my saying that you don't have to like what I like, and if you hate stuff just say. I won't be offended, Your Highness." 

"Please, no Your Highness," you murmur. 

"James says I dress like a socialite with too much money and not enough taste." 

"I do say that," James says.

You laugh under your breath. "Well, I'm sure you've better taste than me. I've never been to an event like this, I don't want to embarrass myself, so, um, don't let me." 

"I won't," Sirius says. 

Sirius understands the fashion tastes of the elite even if he doesn't personally enact them. He passes you an outfit, and you disappear behind the propped up partition to change. With the windows closed and the curtains drawn, only the overhead light is in play, and your shadow is reflected onto the floor to the left. James averts his eyes. 

You try on a couple of outfits. James tries very hard to look as though he's not paying attention to your squirming unhappiness at the fit and look of your clothes. You get more and more embarrassed as time moves forward. The attendant Sirius summoned, a tailor named Melinda, offers suggestions of alterations and what she thinks would suit your silhouette most. 

"Do I have one?" you ask.

"A silhouette?" Melinda asks, a push pin in between her teeth. "Sure you do." 

"My stomach–" 

"Is that a problem area?" Melinda asks. 

"I thought so–" 

"If you're worried, we can find something that fits the to the chest and loosens at your abdomen," Sirius says, "but I don't think you need to worry." 

James agrees. You aren't skinny and James isn't stupid, he knows the immense stigma surrounding your body type must have battered your self-esteem growing up, but he thinks you're pretty and that you've a lovely shape to you. The idea that you have to hide certain body parts when there's nothing wrong with them in the first place has him biting his tongue, wanting to comment and knowing he definitely should not. You've looked nice in everything you've put on, smart and proper for an unfortunate event. 

"I don't know," you mumble. 

Sirius has amazing crisis averting senses, having micromanaged a spoiled narcissist for years. You don't require nearly as much petting or fawning, and you aren't throwing a tantrum either way. 

"Let's finish for today," he says. "We can look at everything with fresh eyes, and I'm off at three."   

James cringes and Melinda looks at him like he's grown a second head; you don't mention the end of a shift in front of the royals. He knows this, and he knows that you don't know this, so Sirius is absolutely pushing his luck. You're a thoughtful girl —you immediately agree. 

Though that might be on account of how you look like you've been thrown a life raft. "Okay, thank you," you say, beginning to put clothes back on their hangers. 

Sirius waves you away. "Leave some work for the rest of us, Your Sweetness." 

Again, second head. 

James opens the door and takes you back through the maze of the Palace before Sirius can commit a sackable offence. You're as quiet as you've been all day, your footsteps the only proof that you're present as you climb the steps to the second floor. 

Professionalism, James thinks. 

"I think you looked nice in everything," he says. 

The opposite of professionalism. Oh, he could vault over the bannister. 

He just wanted to see you smile today, a real smile, or at least hear something sure in your voice that proves he's made the right decision. That you won't be totally miserable if he convinces you to take on the mantle. 

"Yeah?" you say, though you don't give him any time to answer. "I don't– I don't want to look good for a funeral, it's a funeral, but I know it'll be on TV, and maybe in the newspapers, so I don't want to be badly dressed and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to even like…" You nibble your lip for a while before heaving a big sigh. "Sorry, I'm doing this again, I'm giving you jobs that aren't your job." 

"It's relatively easy to tell you that you looked good. It's not a job." 

"You don't have to comfort me, is what I mean." 

"That's also easy… and it will definitely be in the newspapers. For a long time."

"Oh, sugar." 

James holds his hand out as you trip up a short step, but you don't fall, and you don't need his offered help. He tucks his hand behind his back again and follows your lead. 

"Newspapers, the news in general, people, they can all be very, very horrible, but I think the focus will be on your DNA, rather than your outfit. I mean, the gossip rags and tabloids will absolutely pick you apart, but they do it everybody, and I won't let you read those." 

People are cruel. They don't even realise it. 

"Whatever outfit you choose, you'll look good, and people will hate it anyway," he says. 

"That sounds awful." 

"It is. But… they can't stop you from being you. It's better to do what you want to do without worrying about how it'll look to everyone on the outside. You should do what you think is right." 

Okay, he's not exclusively talking about clothes anymore, but his point stands. 

"What if I look like an idiot?" you ask him quietly. 

"You'll look like an exceedingly well-dressed one." 

A sharp veer. Even the word 'professionalism' is starting to annoy him. 

"Don't stress, yeah? We'll work it all out tomorrow." 

You rub your elbow as the two of you approach your room again. "Thanks, James." 

He's on a knife's edge here. Break the rules and face Mary's wrath. Stick to them blindly and drive you further and further from the crown. 

James, selfishly, needs you to want this. And if you need a friend, a real friend, to do that, then he can toe the line. He decides it right there on your door jam.

"Princess," he says, "I have to talk to you about something." 

"Okay… what is it?" 

"When you go home, I'll be coming with you." 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, I’d love it if you let me know <3 also sry the next part should hopefully be delivered faster lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom. 

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place. 

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.  

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place. 

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns. 

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash. 

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.” 

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger. 

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints. 

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.” 

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her. 

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world. 

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog. 

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.” 

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you. 

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.” 

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on. 

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.” 

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile. 

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.” 

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces. 

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.” 

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos. 

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing. 

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades. 

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks. 

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same. 

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?” 

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.” 

“Right.” 

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep! 

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue. 

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.” 

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none. 

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him. 

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.” 

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder. 

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.” 

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.” 

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks. 

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.” 

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?” 

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face. 

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly. 

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?” 

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.” 

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid. 

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.” 

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.” 

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly. 

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted. 

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.” 

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches. 

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well. 

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...” 

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves. 

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.” 

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly. 

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.” 

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.” 

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom. 

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding. 

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?” 

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.” 

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.  

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall. 

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat. 

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.  

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands. 

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.” 

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall. 

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant. 

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm. 

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--” 

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.” 

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff. 

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.” 

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--” 

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.” 

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch. 

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility. 

[nnnneeev]

(all) obey me characters with gn!mc who gets immersed in doing something that they forgot to eat their meal

Lucifer

"...good grief”

will constantly remind you to eat your meals. have you forgotten that you’re human?

gives you a stern lecture about the bad effects of skipping meals. i hope you learned your lesson now

if you still forget, he might just have to use his last resort..

that’s right, he’ll prepare you your meal himself. no you cannot reject it. he needs to witness you eating it with his own two eyes

Mammon

"what do you mean you forgot?”

a bit clueless but then he remembered that constantly skipping meals are bad for humans

what if you passed out from hunger??!

gives you cup noodles. well, it’s better than nothing!

you’re not allowed to complain. that’s all he's got right now. promises to treat you something better next time

Levi

"Well I haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

he knows the feeling. he’d also get immersed in gaming that he constantly loose track of the time

even though there’s snacks lying around his room..

maybe you can both share these rainbow pizza together?

cheers to the team ‘woops i forgot to eat again’

Satan

“Eating proper meals are vital for a human to survive.”

invites you to a cafe. you need to wind down for a bit and eat something

better late than eat nothing at all

suggests you to try the pomodoro method

makes you something to drink as well. it’s not much but aside from eating, you also need to stay hydrated

Asmo

"WHAT?! Oh no, hon. We’re going to hell’s kitchen RIGHT NOW!”

seriously? how could you forget? you’re not on a diet, are you?

nuh-uh. you’re not going to skip your meal. not on his watch

oh you often lose track of the time? how about he spoon feeds you instead? <3

skipping meals is bad for your skin, darling. make sure you don’t forget now, okay?

Beel

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

boy will make it his sworn duty to always remind you to eat

worries about you. he can’t even imagine what would it feel like to skip meals

will pick you up in your room every dinner time

he knows what you’re doing right now is important, but eating to replenish your strength is also important, y’know?

Belphie

“..is that so?”

will order something if you like. cooking is too bothersome

lets you do your own thing

but if you’re still constantly forgetting it, he’s gonna pull his youngest brother card on you

tries to catch your attention/clings on you like a koala. will not let you go until you come down to the dining hall with him

Diavolo

“Aren’t humans supposed to eat at least three times a day?”

ohhh so humans tend to forget something important like this, i see i see

Will ask barbatos to prepare you something. eat up!

proposes to do your works together. in that way, missing your meals would be impossible

reviews what the stuff you’re working on is all about (despite his tight schedule). maybe he can do something to lessen your workload

Barbatos

"Oh dear, that’s no good. You should take care of yourself more often.”

will cook for you, that’s a given

the food he made is nutritionally balanced; calculated to perfection to make up with the energy you lost

pairs it with tea. it will help you relax

keeps a mental note to himself about this habit of yours

Luke

"You should at least eat something, you know?!”

scolds you for not taking care of yourself

will deliver you cookies to snack on after you ate your meal

‘Solomon said that eating sugar gives you energy... so i prepared this for you!’

will also leave some cute motivational notes together with the sweets

Simeon

"You forgot...? I see. I’ll bring you something so stay put, okay?”

makes you his signature BLT sandwich

sandwiches are great snack when working on something that requires a lot of focus

he’s made sure to add extra servings of your favorite sides

leaves it on your table and will check on you from time to time 

Solomon

"Stay right there. I’ll whip something up for you real quick.” “Solomon, you really don’t have to...” “No, I insist. I promise you’re gonna like this.”

it’s a great opportunity for him to try this new and improved recipe of his

sorry it’s too late to stop him now. you’ll just have to prepare for the worst..

got too enthusiastic in cooking that he already blew the kitchen up three times

just.. ignore those explosions and focus on what you’re doing

Thirteen

"I have some leftovers here. Not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s still better than whatever that damned sorcerer has to offer”

your name’s not on the list so she’s not that worried that you’ll die from hunger

but you’re still human. aren’t you supposed to eat something at least?

there’s a shop that just opened recently. wanna go check it out? yea just forget whatever you were doing earlier. let’s have fun instead!

her treat since she’s the one who invited you to go with her

Raphael

"We have plenty of leftovers from last night. Solomon made it so I’m sure it tastes amazing.”

no? well, how about an apple?

will keep an eye on you from a distance

you were too focused that you didn’t even notice someone leaving snacks on your desk (or maybe it’s just because he’s too stealthy)

sometimes it’s a cupcake, oftentimes it’s an unidentified matter

Mephisto

“Are humans really this careless? Just what will Lord Diavolo say I let a human like you collapse from hunger?

mc think of what will happen to diavolo’s reputation if a human got sick because they’re not eating well

you’re not doing this on purpose, are you? ..no? are humans really like this?

brace yourself because you’re about to get the fanciest, most expensive-looking full-course meal you’ll ever get

prepared by his personal chef ofc. consider yourself lucky

[alpaca-clouds]

High Fantasy Conundrums: The Diversity Paradox

I have some thoughts on High Fantasy and the way it currently is shifting in terms of the mainstream depictions. Meaning: No, this is not about books that much. It is more about the big franchises. The stuff with money behind it. Because those have stuff in common right now. I am talking about Dungeons & Dragons, The Witcher, Dragon Age, The Rings of Power and other more budget heavy fantasy.

Many words have been written, said, and screamed into the void of the internet about how these days you will usually see diversity in those. Most notably people that are not white.

And the self-proclaimed "conservatives" (who are actually white supremacists) will cry about how those are "medieval European worlds" and that hence there should not be Black or Asian people run around in them. Ignoring, of course, how there were Black and Asian people running around in medieval Europe.

And there will be leftists, that will defend any decision in this regard, on pure principle.

I will count myself among the second kind no doubt. I think it is good and important to see non-white characters in those big franchises. And frankly, I couldn't give less of a fuck whether or not whatever writer originally wrote a book that stuff was based on did imagine the world to be inhabited by people who did not have cheese-skin. I really don't.

Especially as the entire "realism" and "historically accurate" argument falls apart rather quickly if you consider one very important fact: There were no elves in medieval Europe. There were no dragons in medieval Europe. And there sure as hell was no actual magic in medieval Europe. So... Yeah, somehow I actually do think that Black and Asian characters inhabiting those fantasy worlds is less of an issue, when it comes to stuff being "historically accurate".

And yet...

There is something about this, that still very much irks me. Especially when it comes to some recent franchise stuff, like most of what Wizards of the Coasts did in regards of Dungeons & Dragons 5e in terms of lore - and something I am starting to expect from Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

And that is the lack of any actually non-white cultures within the world - and the lack of worldbuilding in this regard.

See... High Fantasy has generally speaking one big struggle in regards of the worldbuilding. A struggle that can be found in high fantasy world after high fantasy world: For the most part, the cultural worldbuilding is often lacking. While humans are often allowed to have a couple of different cultures, everyone else is usually treated like this: "This is dwarven culture", "this is elven culture", and "this is halfling culture". There is no variation in it. The dwarves in the high north have still the same culture, as the dwarves living in the south of the continent. And while humans do have a bit more in terms of different cultures, it usually also goes in broad strokes. Like: "This is the horse culture, this is the very noble culture, and this is the peasant culture". Am I saying I am blaming Tolkien? Yeah, maybe a bit.

This is one of the reasons I fell so in love with Dungeon Meshi. Because Dungeon Meshi literally is the first time I have seen that someone actually came up with differences between different elven and half-foot cultures and stuff. And I love it.

But Kui is the one writer I can think of, that really did that.

So... Let me talk about DnD, because I know my DnD Lore and I can tell you a bit of why this is bothering me here.

See: Dungeons & Dragons has this whole ass world in the Forgotten Realms as the main setting: Toril. Toril has a variety of continents. Just as you can see:

Now, originally half of those continents did not exist, I might add. Most of them were added during 2e and 3e. Especailly 3e and 3.5e did some worldbuilding in regards of those other continents. Even though, yes, if we are honest those continents are very much: Fantasy Asia, Fantasy North America, Fantasy Middle America, Fantasy Africa, Fantasy Arabia, and Fantasy Australia (about which, I might note, we know next to nothing).

But while 3e and 4e did make some use of those other settings, 5e did something else. 5e very much reverted back to focusing on Faerûn and the Sword Coast once more. But because by the time 5e released it was 2014 in the real world, they knew they could not make Faerûn this super white world. So Faerûn became diverse. There are Black and Asian and Brown people living there now. But... culturally it stay in the "generic fantasy Europe" sphere.

And that is my issue: The lack of different cultures.

I will talk a bit more about the issues with the High Fantasy "Medieval Europe" culture tomorrow, but today let me say this: Even these days, when non-white characters will be included into those fantasy worlds, they still will only be allowed to exist within a supposedly white cultural context. They are not allowed to have a non-white culture.

While this makes some sense in prescribed worlds - so worlds based on books that never had any intent on depicting anything but their "white" pseudo-European culture (like Lord of the Rings and The Wheel of Time with their respective Amazon Prime adaptions), this is less the truth for worlds that are designed around whatever they represent today.

Wizards of the Coast absolutely could put some effort into creating those other continents as good, lived in settings - and allow folks from those other continents who live in Faerûn to bring parts of their own culture with them. They could pay some PoC to actually do that worldbuilding Own Voice style. You know?

And the same is true with Bioware and Dragon Age. While I am by far not as familiar with the worldbuilding of DA, as I am with the worldbuilding of DnD, I am under the impression that there is not a lot going on in terms of non-white cultures from other continents. There are non-white people hanging around in the main plot and what not, but it does not seem as if there is a lot going on in terms of them having cultures of origin. Correct me if I am wrong. Some of those cultures seem to have names, but that is where the worldbuilding ends.

And that... You know, that is an issue. Because diversity, especially ethical diversity, is not just about the skin color. It is about culture. And somehow the culture aspect of it gets ignored a lot. Doesn't it?

[ask-theredcrown]

"Come closer. Fear not, for though you are already dead, I still have need of you."

Current Events

Aym and Baal Friday!

Add your COTL OC HERE!

The Cult

@ask-the-shepard and @askacultleader as the Lamb, our glorious Leader

@cult-of-the-goat AND @ask-thepurplecrownbearer as the Goat, unholy Ally

@ask-thegreencrown as Leshy, He of Havoc

@askthe-yellowcrown as Heket, She of Hunger

@ask-thebluecrown as Kallamar, He of Blight

@ask-thepurplecrown as Shamura, They of Might

@helob-the-spider as Helob, the Seller

@ask-sozo-the-ant as Sozo, the Mycologist

@terrorofthetarots as Clauneck, the Tarot Card Dealer

@ask-kudaai-the-weaponsmith as Kudaai, the Weapon Dealer

@cat-mother-of-two as Forneus, the Shopkeeper

Lambchops (Followers and Foes)

@followers-of-leshy as Sibba, Cornflower and more

@carpet-yellowvessel as Carpet

@differentgoatwith-apurplecrown as Goallie

@the-motherly-gorse as Gorse

@zephyr-the-sarcastic-lamb as Zephyr

@skye-the-exhausted-lamb as Skye

@kali-lamb as Kali

@askthe-littlepoet as Little Poet

@marko-the-yellow-cat as Marko

@charliebughug as Charlie the Catterpillar

@anchordeeps-forgotten as Ransom

@the-spider-of-darkness as Hentric

@trejulty-the-reporter as Trejulty

@the-sleepydragon as Imora, She of Dreams

@seraphim-cultist-of-loyalty as Seraphim

Warnings

Tags used: #tw violence, #tw descriptions of violence, #tw suggestive

This blog is not made towards minors as it will most probably contain depictions of gore, swearing, NSFW topics and more.

Suicide topics may appear once in a while as the character depicts death himself. Sexual roleplaying is out of question and if you try you will be blocked. Some suggestive asks are okay.

The character is surrounded by religious topics so it will be brought up frequently, viewer discretion is adviced.

This is an askblog/roleplay blog, and although most parts will be based in canon, some headcanons might pop up too once in a while.

Roleplaying Info

"Narinder talks like this." || "Or like this, sometimes mod is on mobile"

"Aym talks like this."

"Baal talks like this."

Actions will look like this.

[mod coffee: mod speaks like this!]

Extra

Hi, this is mod coffee! The mun behind this blog :)

I made this one just for roleplaying and for fun, so regardless of fandom, feel free to drop an ask and interact!!

My pronouns are he/they/it and english is not my first language, so mistakes might happen once in a while lol.

I have a mod blog where you can interact with me more closely and take a look at my other blogs too! It's @mod-coffee-is-here, feel free to come and chat there!

Fancy gradient text tutorial:

Last update: 11 of September of 2024.

Added the tutorial for gradient text.

New canon and OC blogs added.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

Obi-Wan Hurt/Comfort and Whump Rec 1: Long Fics

Some of my favorite multi-chaptered or longer form fics (>10K). These are whump, sickfics, angst fics, and hurt/comfort with some very general tags and descriptions. Please make sure you note the tags on ao3 before reading.

I tried to tag everyone I could find here on tumblr, but if you see your fic and want a tag, let me know and I'll add it in. To all the writers, thank you for these fics, I have read each of them multiple times and I am fucking in love with all of them.

Here we go, in no particular order:

Good Man of War - scrapathon

Codywan, OC clones and medics, 16.2K

This fic is so well written and it has some really well-characterized OC clones, including clone medic Zero, as well as a bit of codywan (which I can't resist).

Things Hidden, Things Forgotten- sospes

Codywan, Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 23.5K

This writer has some of the best codywan fics on their roster, but this one absolutely destroys me everytime. This fic covers Zygerria and gets into some of the emotional aspects of the experience for Obi-Wan.

Shoulder the Sky - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, rewritten ending for Palpatine, 149.4K

This fic is part one of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series and is one of my favorite fics of all time. This fic is incredibly detailed, and every character get's their time in the spotlight. The Obi-Wan whump is absolutely delicious, and lasts basically the entirety of this fic. The plot follows Obi-Wan's discovery of the identity of Darth Sidious and how this changes the course of the end days of the Clone Wars.

Whispers from the Dead - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, PTSD and medical trauma, 210K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

Another part of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series (please read the fic above first). This fic is a WIP and every time there is a new chapter I drop everything to read it. Equally as emotionally damaging, equally as much whump, and equally perfect characterizations of every single character. I won't spoil the plot, but it's a perfect continuation of the series.

Gaping Hollow - Walpger

Gen - Obi-Wan, Cody, and Ahsoka, Force-exhaustion and hypothermia, 18.1K

Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Cody are trapped in a cave on the ice-planet Vandor and Obi-Wan uses the Force to keep them both warm and alive. This leads to impending Force-exhaustion. This is one of the earliest Obi-Wan-centric h/c fics I read and I love how the author describes Obi-Wan's use of the Force.

Enforced Convalescence - @swbumblebee

Gen - Obi-Wan, clones, and Jedi, sickfic/illness and fluff, 12.5K

Obi-Wan is ill and requires babysitting because he doesn't really know how to rest. This fic is endlessly soft, and Obi-Wan gets taken care of for once in his life. This author writes delightfully soft fics and this one is one of my absolute favorites.

Uja Nejah - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, diabetes and medical accuracy, 34.2K

Possibly my favorite fic of all time? Perhaps? Anything by whitchry9 is pure gold and this fic is only one example. This fic follows Obi-Wan's journey through his life as a Jedi diagnosed with diabetes. Deliciously whump, and my favorite OC clone medic, stim. You might as well read the whole series: a series of fics in which Obi Wan Kenobi having a disability somehow saves the galaxy

Iviin’hiibi te Tuur - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, epilepsy and medical accuracy, 16.4K

Surprise, surprise, yet another whitchry9 fic. This one is about Obi-Wan's life with epilepsy. This fic also has Stim and has a few extra oneshots that can be read with it.

every shadow - @kenobster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Ahsoka, Cody, 501st, Zygerria/Kadavo arc and recovery, 34.9K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

This fic is a WIP and at 3/9 chapters, so I am going to to use part of the author's summary here: "during the mass casualty event following Kadavo and Zygerria, Obi-Wan and Anakin seek ways to cope with trauma." I am absolutely glued to this fic, and have already read all three chapters multiple times.

Finding Obi-Wan - @stolen-pen-name23

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, amnesia and angst, 86.8K

For the record, I think I read the entirety of this fic in one day because I just couldn't put it down. In this fic, Obi-Wan loses his memory and finds himself in the lower levels of Coruscant.

something inside this heart has died (you're in ruins) - revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)

Codywan (implied or pre-slash), Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 22.6K

In this fic, Cody joins Obi-wan on the Zygerria arc rather than Rex. Very painful with a sprinkling of codywan. 1000 kudos for this fic.

The Consequences of a Crash - happygiraffe

Gen or pre-slash Obi-Wan & Anakin, crash-landing injury/infection, 44.9K

ALRIGHT. Alright. This is the first long-fic I read in this fandom, and remains one of my favorites to this day. Delicious whump, a really wonderful look at Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship, especially as Anakin has just become a Jedi Knight. I reread this one at least once a month.

See My Dreams All Die - @hellotemporaryuniverse

Obi-Wan & Cody (implied codywan), torture by Darth Sidious, 34.7K

This fic is absolutely brutal in the best way. In this fic, Anakin dies and Sidious is looking for a new apprentice. Such good whump.

From the Same Stone - @kckenobi

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, concussion and poisoning, 8.1K

I'm already breaking my own rules, because this fic is under 10K, but this fic is one of my favorites and it's just long enough that it felt like it should be included on this list. In this fic, Obi-Wan and Anakin get trapped in a mine and are slowly ingesting a toxin.

|to failure, sweet victor| - littlekaracan

Codywan, angst and physical fights, 20K

This fic is as fucking bittersweet as it gets. Absolutely destroys me with every read. This fic follows Obi-Wan and Cody on Tatooine, but Cody's chip can't be removed until it has deteriorated to a certain point. As a result, sometimes Cody isn't quite himself.

battle scars - series - @calltomuster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Anakin, PTSD and medical trauma, 27.2K

This series gets into some of Obi-Wan's medical trauma and why avoids medical treatment. I can't get enough of the OC clone medic, Fuzzy, and I love how well the author writes Obi-Wan's PTSD.

shoulder the sky - series - Night_Fury

Codywan, Cerasi & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Nield, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan, PTSD, temporary death, recovery, 196.1K

What can I say about this series? Probably too much. You will just need to read it to find out. Just read it.

chronic conditions - @deniigi

Codywan and clones, epilepsy and chronic illness, 13.1K

Yet another epileptic Obi-wan fic, this one through the lens of Kix and Cody. I am absolutely mesmerized by how this author writes, and I keep going back to this one over and over again.

Six Times Ahsoka Thought Her Grandmaster Was Dead, and the One Time He Actually Was - @pandora15 and lazarusII

Gen - Obi-Wan & Ahsoka, deathfic, 12.3K

The title says it all. You will be in pain.

heavy off a golden hue - @catboydogma

Codywan, hanahaki and chronic illness, 36.7K

This is a series which looks at Obi-Wan's life with chronic Hanahaki. This is such an amazing series, another set of fics I read in one sit-down.

Suddenly this is defeat - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 13.3K

This fic is in first-person POV and does an incredible job of portraying Obi-Wan's perspective on the events based on the episode Landing at Point Rain.

This incessant snow - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 20.7K

Part two to the above fic. Another extremely well-written fic. I absolutely adore the way Obi-Wan is written.

We Can Be Beautiful - OuzoAthena11

Codywan, panic attacks, 23.2K

The fic summary on ao3 says it best, "Five times Obi-Wan deals with anxiety or a panic attack and one time he causes minor anxiety in someone else." Really well written and soft fic.

Count My Little Scars I've Got Dozens Inside - nuclearturtle

Codywan (as adults), angst and de-aging, 27.1K

A de-aged Obi-Wan fic where Dooku attempts to gain his trust, but inevitably, doesn't. Very angsty. Extremely angsty.

Conjuring Miracles - @kcrabb88

Gen - Obi-Wan, Leia, Tala, Vader, PTSD, 29.8K

Another one by this author. In this fic, Tala doesn't get to Obi-Wan in time, and he ends up being taken with Leia to the the inquisitor base. There, he encounters Vader.

Rapture - @galateagalvanized

Codywan, depowered character, 62.5K

I think the summary on ao3 says it best, "An independent terrorist cell has developed a weapon capable of severing the bond between a Jedi and the Living Force. They test it on High General Obi-Wan Kenobi." Wonderful whump mixed with a great story, and of course, codywan.

Always Gold - happygiraffe

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, terminal illness/cancer, 10K

In this fic, Obi-Wan is dying of cancer and just wants the best for his padawan. Prepare yourself, this one hurts.

As an Obi-Wan whump writer myself, I can't help but throw a couple of my own here (not that these are by any means on par with the quality of the incredible fics above). I have linked a couple below if you are interested:

orbit me slowly

Codywan, burns and recovery, 15.3K

After an injury leaves Obi-Wan down and out, he realizes that time isn't as unlimited as he once believed

green is the colour

Codywan, sickfic and injury, 14K

Obi-Wan, sick with the flu, is cornered by hundreds of droids. Cody and Anakin come to his rescue, but there is unresolved tension between them.

Hope you all enjoy this list!

[cringefaecompilation]

DORIAN STORM, ROBBIE DAYMOND, AND THE CRITICAL ROLE FANDOM

because some people don’t know how to act when a piece of collaborative media they like starts getting people of color to add to it. a good amount of this are things I’ve already discussed on my blog, so if you’ve been following me for a while, consider this a more polished version of my complaining. obvious content warnings for racism, with explicit focus on whitewashing, pinkwashing, and cultural assimilation.

quick note before we start: we’re talking about racism, not how annoying you think xyz white character is or how much you want to punt all xyz shippers into a fire. keep your comments focused on dorian himself; it feels counterproductive when conversations about the racism experienced by actors of color and the fictional characters they play snowballs into shitting on fictional white characters and completely ignoring the former.

with all that said, let’s begin.

if you’re reading this, there’s a strong possibility that you already know who dorian storm is, but just in case if you don’t, i’ll give you a quick rundown.

dorian storm is an air genasi bard from campaign 3 of critical role. he made his debut a few months before the third campaign official started in what was meant to be an anthology series on the channel: exandria unlimited. after eight episodes in that series, a short 14 episode run establishing the new campaign, and two more episodes in a sequel to the first anthology, dorian remained largely out of focus for the remainder of the campaign up until episode 92 whereupon he returned and rejoined his party for the third act climax.

while he’s generally beloved, most of his fans haven’t seen or acknowledged his debut, and have only watched the main series campaign. it’s a shame, given how little he’s given to do in the main campaign asides reconnect with his elder brother cyrus. most of his characterization is found in the anthologies and gets built upon when he comes back, so the fandom’s aversion to watching it means they’re missing out on a lot of what robbie’s established for dorian. the more i thought about this aversion, the more it hit me as to why people might be put off it. for such a beloved fandom character, most fans have completely forgotten that exandria unlimited was largely dorian’s story, with opal picking up the slack whenever he took a break from being in the spotlight. by comparison, fearne, orym, and dariax had minimal screentime and vaguer backstory setup. 

dorian and opal taking up the vast swath of story in makes sense for two reasons: robbie and aimee were completely new to the hobby! let the new guys have their fun instead of letting the professionals try to backseat drive the story! the second reason is that ashley johnson, liam o’brien, and matthew mercer are 100% going to return to critical role. it’s their jobs! so they can stand to fight over the same 15 minutes of screentime where aimee and robbie have their fun in the spotlight. even not-so-new kid anjali bhimani got a massive swath of her storyline and backstory established despite only appearing for half the first mini-series!

the same thing happened with calamity, where the plot was primarily moved by aabria and luis. sadly, lou did not get to add as much as them (or the rest of the cast imo) but brennan understood not to give marisha, travis, and sam special attention because they’re always there.

and if we’re talking about calamity, there’s another thing we’ve got to talk about. why is the pre-campaign three series that is predominantly played and dm’d by people of color, treated as more expendable than the pre-history avalir series despite involving three fandom-beloved characters and two fandom-beloved ships? how come people complained about an episode and a half being dm’d by aabria because “they weren’t warned ahead of time” but were fine with brennan taking over critical role for an entire month when there was equally zero “warning” for him to do so? and thinking harder, i suppose i came up with our thesis question.

do people even really like dorian?

DORIAN/ROBBIE BASHING

edit: robbie pulled a pro gamer move and this section is now somewhat inaccurate. see here for an explanation.

since dorian’s vocal haters aren’t as numerous as his vocal fans, i’ll go through this part quickly.

i understand that any character can be grating to anyone for any reason, but some of their insults and insistences about dorian and robbie tend to get a bit loaded. we’re not racist! we just think robbie daymond is just uniquely annoying with crosstalk and his character’s backstory doesn’t mesh with the story the campaign is trying to tell! he’s not a real member of the group because he wasn’t there for all their important moments! he should just die offscreen so they’ll shut up about him already! the only reason people want him back is because they’re rabid liam o’brien fangirls that want him to kiss a man with tongue on-screen!

we’ll touch on that last bit later, but there’s always a weird pit in my stomach whenever someone insists that dorian doesn’t work with bell’s hells. the watsonian side of me wants to argue that a runaway/disguised noble is a perfectly common npc type. but the doylist side of me wonders if they think it’s because robbie does not fit in as a person with the cast of critical role because there’s just something too different about him. i wonder if you can tell what it is.

and this last one is more of a nitpick, but a few people joked about how robbie, christian, and utkarsh were all interchangeable or sound or look the same. don’t do that.

in full fairness, i don’t think it makes someone a racist automatically if they dislike a fictional person of color. after all, you can say “i think finn was underutilized in the star wars trilogy and had an unsatisfying character arc, so i cannot bring myself to like him” and still acknowledge that there was bigotry in the writer’s room that led to said poor character arc.

unfortunately, someone might agree with only the first part of your complaint and then add on that they fantasize about blowing up john boyega with their mind so that rey and kylo can have their perfect aryan babies in peace. not only that, but the insistence that a person of color having a minimal role compared to the white people in the story to explain why you can’t be a fan of them goes from explanation to excuse rapidly when you realize how many white background characters are given their own sub-fandoms built solely upon headcanons.

which leads us to our next point.

DOUBLE STANDARDS AND WHITEWASHING

this fandom seems to have a massive problem with headcanons, but it’s not for the reasons you’d think. they have to act as though the person is only making up headcanons to spite either the rest of the fanbase or the human actor themselves. i’ve no such compunctions about headcanons. give pike glasses! make laudna viet! say that caduceus is a cane user! but there comes a problem when you insist that your angsty trauma headcanons are more genuine than someone who has legitimately gone through the same in canon.

what do i mean by that? let’s pivot a bit to a comparison between two seemingly unrelated characters that made the rounds about a year ago: essek thelyss and bor’dor dog’son. don’t worry, this ties into dorian, i swear.

both men were jaded by religion and religious people in their lives and were led down dark paths when martinet ludinus da’leth entered their lives and attempted to sway them into his anti-god cult. bor’dor was fully sucked into the cogs of his killing machine and offed by bell’s hells, but essek fled into hiding after giving ludinus a holy item that belonged to his people, realizing too little too late the weight of his actions.

according to fandom, essek was manipulated emotionally into a bigoted movement and just needed to be deradicalized because he didn’t know what he was doing was wrong. the fictional man of color, bor’dor dog’son, as portrayed by the real-life man of color, utkarsh ambhukdar, for some reason is not given this grace at all. in fact, he’s been compared to delilah briarwood of all people because both of them were villainous sorcerers that felt slighted by someone, despite this comparison falling flat outside of the aesthetic where she is a broken bird crying out for her husband rather than a conniving unrepentant villain. or perhaps they see him as just as evil as her for harming and deceiving the white player characters.

it seems fandom is more comfortable with the illusion of a person of color as voiced by a white man, filtered through a fantasy species canonically discriminated against, and further filtered through headcanons, fanart, and fanfiction by their choice rather than having to interact with the indian man on screen staring back at them.

and if bor’dor is demonized for being a person of color, then dorian is liked for… being a person of color… that the fandom can pretend he isn’t because his skin is blue and not brown.

dorian is literally a person of color with his blue skin and hair, but he’s still also an actual person of color because of his player. compare him to sam nightingale and katja cleaver, despite having powder blue skin and olive-green skin and being fantasy creatures (triton and orc), they wasted no time in telling brennan lee mulligan that there would be no “carmelinda” nonsense; they were a black transfeminine woman and an indian woman just the same as them.

and if you’re going to say, “okay but assuming a person of color has to play a character that’s the same race/ethnicity as they are makes you the real bigot!”

again, must i refer to sam nightingale and katja cleaver. they made the active decision to depict their characters the same as themselves. they consented to it. this was not some sort of shallow corporate-driven plot to force two women of color into portraying diverse characters to capitalize off their identities.

and likewise, the same can be said for robbie and dorian. robbie daymond identifies as multiracial and is part apache. that’s straight from his twitter, so it’s very easily accessible to anybody that would be curious.

so going back to critical role, dorian comes from a nomadic people who keep mostly to themselves and provide wisdom to its diasporic people that come to them for guidance. they’re extremely secretive and even more so distrustful of outsiders, resorting to violence as a last-ditch effort to ensure their secrecy. they can’t risk anything about their people or their culture falling into the wrong hands and warn their children to be wary of the outside world. dorian and his brother reject being called princes a lot of times, and cyrus only picks it up because he likes the sound of it!

if you aren’t from the united states of america you might not know (and even if you are, you still might not know) apache tribes are known for being nomadic. being diasporic and wary of outside forces attempting to harm one's culture only further bolsters the coding. dorian’s backstory appears to be robbie attempting to reconnect with his culture, and good on him! but for some reason, the fandom hasn’t picked up on that. look, i love fanart that emphasizes robbie’s culture, but the number of times i’ve seen people reblog/retweet it without a second thought and then go back to ignoring the exact same cultural coding in canon is… something else.

if vandran can somehow have an accent (and fjord can mimic it) from the southern united states of america off the coast of a continent based on eastern europe, if byroden is somehow comparable with the real-life city of laredo, texas despite being smack dab in the middle of a continent based on western europe, if the air ashari’s culture is a weird mishmash of samoan, irish celtic, and pan-east asian (by way of avatar the last airbender) cultures, then i don’t think it’s an unreasonable thought that the silken squall would not have to be a one-to-one recreation to be coded as such, laurel crowns be damned.

this lack of attention to this detail in fandom is a bit strange, as usually every other (usually male) character has their backstories and everything that their players intended for them memorized to a t by the fandom. it’s almost a running gag at this point where if someone makes a headcanon that bends canon the slightest millimeter and begins to gain traction, you’ll have someone more popular than them instantly vagueing “crazy entitled fans” who “think they know better than canon”. so what makes robbie’s unstated intentions for dorian (outside his affection for his friends and possible romantic crushes) completely fly under the radar? doesn’t anybody think that’s weird? does he need to say out loud that dorian is coded as native so people will realize it?

but even this erasure isn’t the worst of bigotry with his character, that’s saved for the next part.

STEREOTYPES

the irony of dorian’s backstory being whitewashed but his role in fandom still heavily conforming to racist stereotypes about native americans is not lost on me. it’s like there’s a veil keeping them from fully realizing it, but it’s thin enough for them to latch onto unconscious prejudices. there are a lot of caricatures of native americans in media, both within and outside of north america, but only two of them apply to dorian’s treatment in fandom. the magical indian and the noble savage.

the magical indian, much like the magical negro and the magical asian, is nothing more than a paragon of perfection that exists only to prop up the white characters. they give sage advice and mentorship, but have little to no aspirations of their own or even a life outside their relationship with their white protégé. they may die heroically to spur the white characters into action and mourn how kind and perfect they were.

the noble savage gives similar bolstering to the white characters, but carries even worse implications. at the very least the former is seen as something resembling a person, deified and lacking all depth as they may be. the noble savage is treated like an entirely alien species, and a violent and dangerous one at that. he is handsome, in an exotic, othered way, but violent and unable to be reasoned with and only ever sated for a time. despite being “one of the good ones” he still needs to be “civilized” completely out of his culture or murdered to avoid tainting white culture.

obviously nothing in this fandom gets that bad, but the parallels are there. prior to dorian’s return, the vast majority of fan content that detailed his return made him into the de facto therapist for bell’s hells. because obviously dorian wasn’t going through anything himself with the solstice, magic backfiring, and opal being corrupted! he’d be happy to be nothing more than a shoulder to cry on without any traumas or tribulations of his own to worry about! they all got solved and dealt with offscreen, honest. and after his return, people who were either on the fence about him or disliked him entirely began to come around once he positively interacted with and bonded with the other white characters they liked.

the complaint of “i dislike that dorian is never allowed to exist outside of his friends” gets misinterpreted as “it’s out of character for dorian to care so much about his friends” either by well-meaning or willful ignorance, but at the end of the day, it’s ignorance either way. this would be different if he was an npc, but he has hours of content that doesn’t focus solely on his relationships with other people. yes, it is a massive part of his characterization that he will do anything for his loved ones, but why are we focusing on them and not him?

then again, maybe fandom shouldn’t focus on other parts of his backstory.

any mention of the silken squall that isn’t reskinning it to be a generic fantasy keep tends to make it a living hell. sure, the bits and pieces we’ve heard from it make it extremely clear they’re unhealthily secretive, strict, and a bit full of themselves, but it’s not as if they’re evil aristocrats that kick puppies for fun. the tale of a young man that’s going against tradition is hardly one that belongs to a single culture, but i’ve found people find it the most digestible when they strip it of all nuances. it’s the “no, dad, i’m my own man! individualism for life, baby!” power fantasy everyone’s always dreamed of where you can up and leave a situation and leave everything you’ve ever known behind.

so the silken squall is just homophobic, transphobic, and fantasy racist. dorian should completely abandon it and all its ways to go off gallivanting with the hells in perpetuity, which is the correct option. never mind that matt himself said that lgbtphobia in exandria is not the same or is far less common than it is in our world. never mind that in the previous campaign there was a massive story hook about prejudice and xenophobia that humans enacted on species they viewed as “monsters”. because why should the silken squall be anything more than a hive of bigotry and cruelty with no grey areas? everyone knows every flying city in exandria was pure evil and should be nuked from orbit! it’s true, brennan lee mulligan told me so!

i suppose i was wrong for expecting better. if two disney films meant to sell dolls to little girls that more or less looked directly into the camera and said “sometimes people do bad stuff because they were hurt real bad in the past, but that doesn’t make them bad people! racism is still gross!” could both get misinterpreted with zero nuance as being about an abusive matriarch forcing her family into impossible perfection, then i should’ve figured that people would do the same with a piece of adult media.

SHIPPING CONTENT

let’s finally get this out of the way. there is a very intentional reason i’ve been dancing around the subject of shipping with dorian.

i do not have anything against dorym as a ship. i do think that they like each other! they’ve got a lot of really sweet moments together! they just have a lot of personal things they have to work through to get there.

to say that it’s forced, or they’re “trying too hard” to make it seem like they’re about to confess their mutual love, or has had zero buildup can feel at times like a “gotcha” to mock its fans for being pushy. they’re both clearly trying to get back into the swing of things now that robbie’s returned and they can move forward with developing their relationship. i wouldn’t be surprised if it’ll be like late game beauyasha, which had a similar problem with not having a lot of content for it due to one member of the ship being absent from the table because scheduling despite being beloved by fandom until we got into the mid-100s.

that all being said, there is a tendency for dorian to be treated poorly in the ship by the shippers. all my complaints about it hinge solely on the fans. now, i don’t think all dorym fans are like this; i would be making the same complaints if dorian/laudna, dorian/imogen, fearne/dorian, doomstorm, or greystorm shippers did this as well. but since dorym is the most popular out of all of them, i will be discussing it primarily.

small mercies that dorian’s coding is largely ignored because that means nobody's making pocahontas aus with the dorym ship. (and if they are, please don’t tell me. we know its racist. you don’t need to show it to me to confirm that it is, indeed, racist. i don’t frequent ao3 for a reason). even without that, dorym still falls victim to the ship dynamic of the delicate white person and the strong person of color.

i’m already uncomfortable with how orym’s trauma is viewed by a vast majority of the fandom, but adding in the “dorian has no feelings outside his own and is only a machine to deposit in trauma coins until sex comes out” situation i described earlier, it gets bad really quick. often times dorian’s whole worldview is warped to focus only on orym and orym’s feelings. he certainly trusts and looks to him as a leader, but the constant insistence that orym is the only thing that matters in his life, orym is the only person he would trust unconditionally, orym is the only one he would ever truly be in love with, he must be the one to fix orym’s trauma and make him whole with no work from orym’s side at all and orym orym orym orym orym-

yeah it’s bad.

and now we come to braius doomseed, the newest bull on the block. sam riegel introduced his new character as an over-comedic flirt who went after everybody with a pulse... and laudna! provided you’re able to take a joke, a lot of people had fun cracking remarks about how braius confirmed that bell’s hells were just another basement away from having a real orgy instead of a fake. but then there were those who did not like the joke, and by that i mean, people who genuinely wished death upon sam, braius and the shippers ironic and genuine for daring to get in the way of dorym. because dorian is orym’s man, not braius’ man!

do i really need to say why it’s wrong to say or imply a white person owns a person of color? do you need an explanation for that? it’s bad! very bad!

i must reiterate: i don’t think every single dorym shipper acts like this or has never spoken out about this trend. i follow a good number of people that like the ship and a lot of them have no problem with shipping them with other people and treating them as their own characters on equal footing. it’s okay to like the ship and it’s okay to not like the ship.

or if you don’t like the ship, you could always make nazi jokes.

would you believe that this post actually made me want to make this one? there is a score of perfectly good reasons to dislike dorym as a ship as stated previously, but you made a joke about how a white guy is getting denied of his rightful claim to a relationship by a native guy? i take it back, maybe people do need things explained to them. you certainly don’t see laura/marisha pc shippers speak about aabria or erika this way.

speaking of, that makes for a terrific segue!

imodna tends to be bashed by both ashrym and dorym shippers in equal measures, partially due to misogyny and lesbophobia usually rampant in m/m shipping spaces, and partially because people still have lingering wounds from entitled beaujes shippers from campaign two. i think it’s safe to assume that a vast swath of the holdover from campaign two abandoned ship (heh) following episode 34, as that’s when i remember seeing a lot of angry imodna shippers complaining about how orym should have died instead of laudna and ragequitting the campaign. but what does this have to do with dorian, you ask?

well, i haven’t seen any fanfiction or aus where dorian is laudna’s abusive boyfriend that imogen must save with her sapphic mind powers (again, if it does exist, keep that shit to yourself because we know it’s racist) but i have seen some imodna fans utterly despise orym and anything that has to do with him. and if they hate anything that has to do with him, that includes dorian.

most of the “dorian is a useless character that doesn’t need to exist/only exists for crazy fangirls/should die offscreen” comments as stated all the way back there come from imodna shippers sniping back at a lot of the people being crappy about their ship. or in fanfic/fanart they’ll overemphasize his snottier or selfish aspects or make him out to be an impulsive dimwit as a “joke.” long story short, they aim at the white guy and dorian gets gored with the shrapnel.

SO NOW WHAT?

i think it’s pretty obvious where to go from here. do better. watch exandria unlimited and exandria unlimited kymal! acknowledge the story that robbie is trying to tell.  be respectful and ask questions if people are willing to give answers. and if you don’t find dorian enjoyable or interesting as a character, think about why you don’t and ask yourself if you’d extend that same indifference to a white character. it’s not that hard to simply say that a ship or a character just isn’t your thing without being bigoted about it!

hopefully this post helped people see things they may have overlooked in their analyses of dorian and thanks to @bam-monsterhospital, @fear-ne and a bunch of anons for adding their input!