#anders' torment keep me going | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twig-in-a-wizard-hat · 5 months ago

Text

Trying live blogging again :D

looks at tw: FEAR

I guess the maestro would brand Lex tho.

Still wonder if the music teacher is a vamp (old maestro spawn, now dead, or some poor sap who lived too close).

I wonder if not telling Anders technically saved Anders, since I doubt the Maestro would let some human snoop around, forget about trying to save a thrall of his. Though it might've been the only thing that could've saved him (if Anders somehow became/was a vampire hunter).

Au where Lex is still turned and Anders rescues him perhaps (feels like lots of angsty potential).

"He arrived at a manor as icy as its occupant." I like this line C:

Just realizing with the maestro kidnapping the ballerina the cycle really is repeating itself >:3c >:O

Whow, Lex cite singing

"'You are mistaken. You came here to see if you are worthy of instruction.' " , aw nu this man is doom for sure. He should've read the bad vibes and noped out, probably regretted that for the rest of his life and unlife :c .

"He certainly wouldn't be coming back." oh something really bad is coming isn't it.

"One hundred and sixty." - Maestro, in his absolute insanity. That's actually pretty impressive for Lex tho, I would assume. I applaud him, virtually.

aw nu this must mean the Maestro decided Lex was for keepers. (He absolutely is a keeper tho, just not for the maestro). Well.... did half forget some... unsavory opinions he has with humans, but i'mma gloss over that as compared to the maestro he is a saint rn.

"While music is my passion, I don't think it's reasonable to aim for perfection. That's an impossible goal." Agreed.

"'So you aspire to mediocrity, then, as does the rest of humanity,' he said. 'Very well. The choice has been taken from your hands. I have made my decision. I will train you.'" uh oh. Also this dude will never be happy fr. If he wasn't so hard headed and cold hearted I bet the idea that his perfectionism keeps him from enjoying anything and making meaningful relationships would hit hard.

The fleeting ghost of a twisted smile appeared on his face. oh no x2, also I wonder if this is one of the few times the Maestro smiles. Also scratch what I said about him not enjoying stuff cuz of perfectionism. I think he does enjoy something and it's tormenting others and flaunting his power.

"Is that so?" gives the vibes of a cat lifting it's paw over a mouse before it inevitably traps it.

"His eyes went wide with terror even as every other muscle in his body tensed, caught mid-step. He tried to take another step, to move his arms, to even make the smallest movement of his fingers. No part of his body would respond to his most desperate entreaties, completely paralyzed except for his pounding heart and ragged breathing. He couldn't blink, couldn't shout." oh no x3

The maestro must be pretty powerful thought to not have needed any induction, though I wonder if part of the "singing lesson/prove urself" was in part that. The Maestro breaking down an unwitting Lex before he could really register it.

"All humans must obey me, just as the ocean must obey the moon" that vampire hunter is so going to wreck him C:< "It's a simple, unchangeable fact." he will be so unawares C:<

"I'm a far more miserable creature, a lonely thing that must rely on the blood of inferior beings in order to survive. In short, a vampire." he's going to bite him now, isn't he.

"And that meant that he was going to die, wasn't he?", rip, prob wished he'd died there lol (but also very much rip). Poor guy for many years got fate worse then death. May he have many years of thrall and spawn and spawn's thrall snuggles as compensation.

"The placid, unreadable look did not leave the Maestro's face as he slapped Lex lightly across the cheek." true colors totally revealed *gasp*

"Instead, you should wish for them to forget you, rather than perish by my hand." previous predictions confirmed.

"I'm loathe to indulge myself in the pleasures of consumption, but even I cannot ignore my earthly needs forever." (points) puritan. omg wait he's supposed to be super old.... maybe he is. small rip for the maestro, that would explain a lot.

"I will take you to your chambers now," omg is the maestro going to cuddle him. (for warmth).

"where a chair by the fireplace and a stack of books waited for him." aw man it must've been so long since he'd seen a library.

"Lex fervently wished that he would not investigate, lest he find himself in this same hell./If he were fortunate, his dear friend would never find this place, even if it meant Lex would never see him again." suspicions confirmed :D (poor Lex tho, he is now becoming sad wet cat).

"so he sank into an unnatural, agitated sleep full of nightmares that he could not wake from." great line :D

"Lex would rate this experience one star." omg the thought of the Maestro's different thralls/sired rating his manor. All of them leaving horrible reviews except a few Maestro puppeted (I don't think he'd actually care, or understand how a "Yelp" worked, but see my vision) that sound like a cross between a bot and a old person who doesn't understand how to write on the internet. (maybe he'd do it cuz too many humans where snooping around the "one star murder manor". "vologging" with their strange metal boxes, and he got annoyed at having to kill them too often.)

"Next week, Fitz is doing extremely okay. " aw nu. I have a feeling he is very much not. I wonder if it's cuz it all goes VERY south with the hunter plan, or "present" time line Fitz gets a surprise visit from we know who.

---

Hope I didn't some off as too aggressive to the maestro, I think I did but I don't wanna re read everything to edit rn :/ . He is a great villan tho, one u love to hate :D .

At some point for some reason I was trying to come up with a good way to turn the maestro's name into a catchy insult to get under his skin, and came up with Mc Stickyface. do with this as you will, but I found the childness of it hilarious and had to share. I think/hope he'd get annoyed fast with someone calling him that.

was wondering at some point how to make a read more link, and just found it, but I'm too lazy to fiddle with that rn, so have at ye with the live blog/reaction to the chapter. I hope it was entertaining at the least C:

The Rare Bookseller Part 65: Alexander's Lesson

Previous > Masterlist

tw: kidnapping, branding, body control, blood drinking

December 1815

Lex was glad that he'd made it out the door early, especially since Anders wouldn't stop badgering him about where he was heading on such a cold night. He'd made up some excuse about an errand, but he seriously doubted his ability to keep this secret from Anders for long. Maybe once he'd had a lesson or two with this teacher and made up his mind about whether he was going to stick with his instruction, he'd tell his friend. Master Laurent wouldn't approve, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

It was somehow even more bitterly cold than it was the previous night, and Lex dearly wished that he were back home by a fire. He wasn't fond of the idea of spending the next several hours in the company of the frigid and imposing man who'd glared at him for his entire practice. Still, if he was such a fine and exclusive vocal teacher, beyond even Master Laurent's skill, this would be worth his while.

He arrived at a manor as icy as its occupant. It was surrounded by a wrought iron gate, and inside was a stone courtyard covered in snow, with no living plant in sight. The windows were all shuttered and there was no sign of any light. Anxiety sat like a stone at the bottom of his gut, urging him to turn back -- but he could hardly tell Master Laurent that he was like a child, spooked by the thought of a haunted house.

He picked up the brass door knocker and rapped on the door.

The door opened right away. A stiff and pale looking man in a well-kept suit beckoned him inside. "You must be Alexander. My master is expecting you. Please enter."

"Good evening," said Lex as he stepped in, trying not to flinch as the door shut behind him. There were a few gas lamps flickering on the walls, barely enough to penetrate the gloom. In the dim light, he could see that the entrance had oppressively patterned wallpaper and objets d'art in every nook and cranny. It looked more like a museum than a home anyone actually lived in.

"This way," said the servant, leading Lex down a foreboding hallway. The servant's manner of walking was odd and unnatural, almost like a puppet on strings. He thought he saw a pair of eyes peer out at him from one of the darkened rooms, but it disappeared as soon as he turned.

Just a music lesson, Lex reminded himself to soothe his heart. He's an old and eccentric music teacher, nothing more.

At the end of the hallway, the servant opened the door to a room far better lit than the rest of the home, the most extravagant music room Lex had ever seen. His fear was forgotten for a moment as he admired the wide variety of perfectly kept and cleaned instruments lining the floors and walls. Polished horns glistened on their stands, stringed instruments were hung perfectly straight in brackets on the walls, and one corner was occupied by a beautiful gilded harp. The center of the room was dominated by a grand piano. It was a much older sort than Lex was used to, but in ideal condition, and his fingers ached to play it.

To do that, though, he'd have to get past the man who stood from the piano bench to receive him. He was dressed all in black, as he was the previous day, and his piercing gaze was all the more impossible to ignore when Lex was the only other person in the room. There was something oppressive about his presence that gave Lex a senseless urge to turn and run.

Oh, how he wished he were already by the fire with Anders, laughing about this whole thing!

Lex bowed, and he felt almost as stiff as the servant (who had already fled the room). "Good evening…" He realized that somehow he'd completely neglected to get his new teacher's name.

"When you are here, I am your Maestro. You may call me that, or sir," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Lex. No greeting, apparently.

"Come. I wish to hear your talent." He gestured to a stand with sheet music arranged on it.

Lex stepped forward and took a look. The music was handwritten but impeccably neat; the piece was complex and the lyrics were in a language he was not familiar with. "What language is this, sir?"

"Irrelevant."

"I'm going to need to know how to pronounce it."

"You will learn."

Lex scowled. This Maestro's style couldn't be more different than Master Laurent's. Master Laurent was stern and critical, but not harsh like this man, and the things he asked of Lex were always reasonable. He could already tell they would be butting heads.

Well, if he didn't like the instruction, he could always turn down future lessons and give his apologies to Master Laurent.

"I'm going to need to warm up first, sir."

"Very well. I will observe how you go about it."

Lex sang a few notes, loud and soft, up and down the scales, all the while conscious of the Maestro's gaze upon him. Lex couldn't help but think if he was going to be so nakedly judgmental of Lex's warm-ups, he could offer instruction on how to improve them. Wasn't that what he was here for? Instruction?

As he warmed up, he scanned the music to get a sense of it. The difficulty must be to test him. He wasn't about to shy away from a challenge, especially where music was concerned. No doubt the Maestro wished to see if he was actually a prodigy in vocal skills, or yet another mediocrity propped up by his family's wealth.

He finished his preparations, and he sang.

The acoustics of the room were excellent, and Lex's voice rang out clear and pure. He stumbled over a few of the unfamiliar words, but the notes he sang were true.

It was objectively an excellent performance, given the circumstances, and yet his new teacher sat there stony-faced without a glimmer of a reaction.

"Again," he said, a moment after Lex finished.

"Sir, before I sing again, I'd like to know how to properly pronounce some of these words."

"Again."

"You said I would learn how to pronounce them. I can't learn that if you don't teach me."

"I will teach you much before we are through. But now I am ordering you to sing again."

Frustrated, Lex was even more determined to put everything he had into it. Surely there must be some level of effort and talent that could budge this man. Now that he'd sung the song once and had a feel for it, he was able to sing without hesitation, not caring how he pronounced the unfamiliar words as long as the sound fit the melody.

The Maestro may as well have been a statue throughout Lex's virtuoso performance. "Again."

So he sang it again. And again. By the fifth time, he'd lost his patience.

"With all due respect, sir," Lex said, "I came here for instruction, and so far, you haven't offered any."

"You are mistaken. You came here to see if you are worthy of instruction. Most men, even those who imagine themselves to be musicians, can produce sounds little better than the barks of dogs. I don't wish to waste any more time than necessary in the company of such men."

"Surely my voice is better than the barks of dogs."

"Again."

Lex was burning with irritation now. He knew very well he was in possession of a temper, one which he preferred to keep under check, so that his classmates and teachers found him patient and easy-going. This man, however, was determined to fray his patience to the breaking point.

He certainly wouldn't be coming back. He'd have to tell Master Laurent that the so-called instruction wasn't worth the frustration, and hope his teacher would be forgiving.

This time, he sang the song with the passion that was boiling over in his heart, determined to either provoke a reaction from the Maestro or at the very least know for certain that he had done his best.

The Maestro stood from his place on the piano bench at the end of this rendition, walking over to Lex, who couldn't help his defiant glare. Let him find fault with that, if he could.

"One hundred and sixty."

"Excuse me?"

"One hundred and sixty mistakes."

He was certainly just trying to get a rise out of Lex. "There aren't even that many notes in the song."

"I'm well aware," he said with that insufferable glare. "The mistakes begin even before you open your mouth, with your breathing and posture." His eyes swept over Lex, analyzing. "Stand up straighter. Eyes forward. Chest full. Deep breath from your chest. Allow your lungs to inflate fully."

To Lex's surprise, he felt himself following the instructions automatically, his back and neck straightening to the point of stiffness, taking in a deep breath. He felt strangely out of control, almost as if the Maestro had some sort of unnatural hold on him.

It must be his imagination. He complied with the instruction so quickly because he was intimidated by that icy glare, nothing more.

"Now, sing a scale."

Lex did so, and it sounded improved from his usual, and he hated that it did.

"A passable result, for an untrained voice."

"I've trained with Master Laurent for years, sir."

The Maestro scoffed. "You would never achieve perfection with him."

"While music is my passion, I don't think it's reasonable to aim for perfection. That's an impossible goal."

"So you aspire to mediocrity, then, as does the rest of humanity," he said. "Very well. The choice has been taken from your hands. I have made my decision. I will train you."

At this point, Lex hardly cared if he was the finest music teacher on the green Earth, he didn't want to spend another moment with this man's constant insults and sour look. "I've made my decision as well, sir. I appreciate your time, but I'm afraid I have to turn your offer down. I will not be training with you."

The fleeting ghost of a twisted smile appeared on his face. "Is that so?"

"Yes, sir," said Lex, backing towards the door. "Now, if you'll allow me to take my leave, it's getting late and it's very cold outside tonight, so I'd like to return to my dorm as soon as possible."

The Maestro gave no response as Lex turned and started towards the door.

And froze.

His eyes went wide with terror even as every other muscle in his body tensed, caught mid-step. He tried to take another step, to move his arms, to even make the smallest movement of his fingers. No part of his body would respond to his most desperate entreaties, completely paralyzed except for his pounding heart and ragged breathing. He couldn't blink, couldn't shout.

"I did tell you that the choice had been taken from your hands," said the Maestro.

Slowly, methodically, Lex's body was turned around against his wishes, even as every instinct was calling on him to flee. He began to walk forward to where the Maestro was sitting on the piano bench, helpless as a sleepwalker as he drew closer.

It must be a nightmare. He'd been anxious about this lesson and the strange man who had been at practice yesterday, and he'd fallen asleep by the fire, his mind turning a man into a monster. He would wake soon and tell Anders of his nightmare to make him laugh.

Lex was stopped just before the Maestro, and was dropped into a kneel, his knees hitting the wooden floor with uncomfortable force. His head was forced into a bow as his arms were arranged behind his back, the very picture of a submissive servant.

"How are you doing this?" said Lex, as soon as he realized that control of his mouth had returned to him.

"All humans must obey me, just as the ocean must obey the moon," said the Maestro in an incongruously melodic voice. "It's a simple, unchangeable fact."

"What are you? Are you a demon?"

"Some might consider me a demon, but no." He reached down and tilted Lex's head upward by his chin, and Lex was looking into his eyes, as cold and hard as stone. "I'm a far more miserable creature, a lonely thing that must rely on the blood of inferior beings in order to survive. In short, a vampire."

A vampire! Lex had never believed in such things, thinking that they were superstitions of the uneducated. But if this wasn't a nightmare or a fit of madness, then he had been very much mistaken. There was little doubt in Lex's mind that this man was exactly what he claimed to be.

And that meant that he was going to die, wasn't he? An undignified whimper emerged from his throat. He was only just a man, with many winters and summers yet ahead of him. He hadn't even finished his education or courted anyone. To die here, in this dreadful place, to feed a monster…

Icy fingers traced over his jaw. "It's exceedingly rare to find such exquisite blood, especially paired with musical talent of even meager promise. Perhaps I have the unwise hope that your company will please me."

Lex's throat felt as though it'd been coated in sand. "Are -- are you going to drink my blood and kill me?"

The placid, unreadable look did not leave the Maestro's face as he slapped Lex lightly across the cheek. "Idiotic child," he said. "Did I not already tell you that I will be training you? In exchange for instruction, you will provide me with your blood and your service."

So he wasn't to be killed, but would be a slave instead. It might well be a worse fate -- but one with some possibility of rescue. "My classmates and teachers will notice I'm missing," he said, hoping to sway the vampire into freeing him.

"Yes, so they will."

"My parents will be informed," he tried. "They're going to search for me. They'll surely get the police involved, as well."

The Maestro gripped his chin, leaning further into his face. "They will not find you," he said with stern finality.

"But what --"

"And if they did find you, how do you suppose mere humans will deliver you from a being that can control their bodies with the slightest effort?" He dropped Lex's chin. "Instead, you should wish for them to forget you, rather than perish by my hand."

He could picture it all too vividly, his parents coming to his aid, become frozen in place as he was, and swiftly cut down. Lex didn't doubt for a moment that this monster would do it, either. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes. He seemed used to this, almost bored with the business of kidnapping -- of course, if he lived off human blood, he would have to be used to it, wouldn't he?

As Lex trembled in fear, turning over his desperate position in his head, the Maestro stood up. He pulled a small metal object from his pocket, and began to heat it in the flame of one of the lamps. As Lex watched in horror, his arms were released from his back, and he felt himself unbuttoning his shirt, removing it…

He tried to scream, but he had been silenced once more, a prisoner in his own body.

The vampire's power held him completely rigid as the dreadful brand neared his chest, pressing into his skin with a sickening noise and smell. Lex would have wailed if he were able, or vomited, or fainted dead away, but he was held fast in the vampire's spell. His vision blurred, his reason leaving him, as all he could think about was the intense pain and fright.

"It has been a very long time since I've had truly satisfying blood," said the Maestro, sitting down in front of Lex once more. "I'm loathe to indulge myself in the pleasures of consumption, but even I cannot ignore my earthly needs forever."

Perhaps it was a mercy that Lex was already driven from his mind as the Maestro dug his fangs into the place where his neck met his shoulder. With his rational thoughts gone, he was left to the primal parts of his mind, screaming within him to remove the predator from his flesh. Yet none of this inner turmoil was allowed to surface, as he was kept perfectly still for the vampire to drink his blood at leisure.

As his blood was drained and his head further fogged, foreign and unwelcome emotions invaded his consciousness. He was drowning in it, pitch-black waters closing in above him as he sank into the depths. It was a quiet, lonely, empty place, numb and freezing, a vast expanse of despair.

Lex was barely aware as he collapsed into the Maestro's waiting arms, the spell over his body finally lifted now that he was too weak to move. He shivered violently and gasped for air, wanting to push the vampire away but unable to lift his arms to do so.

"I will take you to your chambers now," said the Maestro, picking him up as though he were a doll. Lex tried to summon up the will to fight as he was lifted, but as soon as he began to stir, he felt his limbs unnaturally shackled once more.

Defeated, he fled into the recesses of his mind, where a chair by the fireplace and a stack of books waited for him. Anders would notice his absence when the hour grew late, and Lex fervently wished that he would not investigate, lest he find himself in this same hell.

If he were fortunate, his dear friend would never find this place, even if it meant Lex would never see him again.

Lex was carried into an austere chamber and placed upon a cold, firm bed. The Maestro removed his shoes and placed them by the bedside, then placed several rough, wool blankets over him.

"You will sleep," the Maestro said.

Lex couldn't imagine being able to sleep through the agony and terror racking his body, but then the vampire placed a hand on his forehead, and his eyes began to drift shut against his will. The sleeping spell did nothing for the pain, and so he sank into an unnatural, agitated sleep full of nightmares that he could not wake from.

Previous > Masterlist

Lex would rate this experience one star.

Next week, Fitz is doing extremely okay.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

#no tags become undiscoverable (except in reblogs)#idk how often live blogs might happen #i think i did a bit too much and it can sometimes detract from the story's impact and tone it was creating.#And this one is very good at making different vibes C:#like def just wanted to enjoy the lex

87 notes · View notes

justcallmecappy · 3 years ago

Text

18 Days of Fenders: One And The Same

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Brief mention of suicide.

17. One And The Same

It was a quiet evening waning into an even quieter night on the slopes of Sundermount. Hawke and Isabela were having their turn to bathe at the waterfall nearby their encampment, leaving Fenris and Anders to tend to the camp in their absence.

Fenris was unpacking his rucksack when felt Anders’ eyes on him, and looked over his shoulder to meet the mage’s gaze defiantly. “Is there something you want, Anders?” he demanded.

Anders’ gaze was curious, head tilted to one side in scrutiny. “You know,” he said absently, as if he were just making a stray comment about the weather, “I’ve just been thinking recently that you don’t exactly have the temperament for a slave.”

Fenris’s eyes widened, and he bristled at this. Trust the mage to come up with the most inappropriate conversation topics at the most inopportune moments. “Was that a compliment or an insult?” Fenris replied, voice low and guarded. “Just how many slaves do you even know to even make such a judgement?”

Anders shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to unpack his provisions, carrying on as if it were any other everyday conversation. “In the Circle, disobedience isn’t usually tolerated for very long. Mages are usually beaten, denied meals, or left to rot in the dungeons. I’m also sure some of the deaths in the tower were covered up as suicides. I was just certain your former master would have put you to death a lot sooner, with you being such a pain in the arse.”

The dark memories of being Danarius’ bodyguard swam into Fenris’ mind – and they were all memories of unfailing obedience. He had followed Danarius’ orders flawlessly, without question or hesitation. His master’s wish was his command, and for the longest time, as far back as Fenris could remember, it was the only way he knew how to exist. He had the perfect temperament for a slave, then. Remembering so brought him pain.

He glared at Anders. “And why haven’t the templars killed you?” he challenged. “You’re just as much of a thorn in their side. I wouldn’t have thought twice to spare you, if I were in their place.”

A sardonic smile curled at the corner of Anders’ lips, and he breathed out a short laugh. “I wonder that myself,” he murmured, and there was a strange, distant quality in his voice, as if he, too, were lost in his memories. “I’m sure they wanted to kill me, many times.” Anders shook his head. “And the one time they did try to kill me, well … it didn’t go as well as they expected.” And his hand strayed distractedly to the chest, hovering over his heart, and he seemed only half-aware he was doing so.

Fenris thought the mage would drop the conversation, then. But then Anders grinned up at him brightly, and for a moment Fenris considered him a fool, until Anders said, “Well. I hope you keep it up. Let’s continue to be a pain in their arses, shall we? Thorns in their sides.” He lifted his fist halfway in a small half-cheer. “Rebels and renegades, the both of us. A torment to templars and slavers alike, defiant until the end.”

And Fenris was struck by a feeling so strange, it took him a moment to recover from it before he realized what it was: he felt companionship with the mage. Anders had been running from his own tormentors for as long as Fenris had, stubborn and rebellious and insolent, and he realized not many of the people he knew could say the same about themselves.

Fenris shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling, frowning at feeling something as ridiculous as camaraderie with a mage, of all people – and yet, as he cast a furtive glance Anders’ way, a sad sort of aching struck deep in his chest, and it wasn’t until much later did he realize what he felt was hope.

No one else had showed up to their weekly game of Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man yet, so Fenris and Anders found themselves sitting together at a small table, drinking pints of Corff’s watered-down ale while they waited for the rest of their friends to arrive.

As always, they ended up engaging each other in another one of their debates about mages and magic and the magisters of Tevinter, fuelled and emboldened by the ale in their bellies and the passions they could unfailingly draw out of one another.

“There must be some magisters in Tevinter who would not use blood magic,” Anders challenged insistently, almost to the point of pouting. “They can’t all be like you say.”

Fenris scoffed, lip lifting in a sneer. “Of course,” he said. “They’re slaves, Anders. Indentured servants pledging their services to some rich altus because they could not rise high enough in society. The magisters do not hesitate to collar their own kind.”

Anders still looked unconvinced, sinking sullenly into his seat. His feathered pauldrons rose above his shoulders, and he seemed like a bird ruffling its plumage in indignation. “I just don’t believe that there aren’t some magisters who aren’t malevolent, moustache-twirling, power-drunk blood mages.”

Fenris shook his head at Anders’ naivety. If he wasn’t so incredulous, Fenris would almost pity Anders. Almost. “If you made it to Tevinter, mage, you would see for yourself just how they set on each other like wolves. You have no idea what I witnessed, at Danarius’ side. Only the most shrewd and ruthless survive.”

Anders sniffed. “So. Assuming I found myself making it to Tevinter, how would you say I should survive?”

Fenris lifted a derisive eyebrow, incredulity growing by the minute. Of all things, Anders was asking him for advice? Just how ridiculous was he determined to be, tonight? It would be almost hilarious, if it weren’t already so pitiful. But Fenris decided to humor the mage, this time.

“You? Apprenticed to the right magister, you probably could have gotten far. You gift with healing is coveted, and rare, and you could possibly find your place among high-ranking society.”

Anders leaned forward at this, eyes wide, and to Fenris’ – disgust? Dread? – the mage looked almost hopeful. “Is there a downside?”

Fenris’ voice was deadpan. “Only if you're bothered by owning a few slaves and performing the occasional blood ritual.”

The glistening hope left Anders’ eyes and he sank back dejectedly. “Oh, for the love of … this again! Can’t I just have a little clinic on the outskirts of Minrathous, occasionally healing people, adopting kittens, and minding my own business, and not be beset by templars or blood mages or people trying to collar or kill me?”

Fenris gazed upon the mage, a strange sense of understanding coming over him like an epiphany. You’re looking for a place to feel safe, too, Fenris realized. But Tevinter is not the refuge you seek.

“You’re not like them, Anders,” Fenris said, and it was when Anders glanced back up at him, a strange lustre in his eyes, that Fenris realized he had been murmuring with a low tenderness in his voice. “You wouldn’t. You’re far better than the whole lot of them, squabbling over titles and land and the Archon’s favour like vultures over carrion. You and your little clinic and your brood of adopted kittens belong elsewhere, far away from all that ugliness and cruelty.”

Anders met his gaze speechlessly. Fenris revelled proudly in this rare moment he could render the talkative mage silent, basking the quiet, guileless look in Anders’ honey-gold eyes – but the moment was broken when they heard the raucous cries of Isabela, Merrill, Hawke, and Varric stumbling into the tavern, in high spirits over some recent excursion, their loud cheers drawing all attention towards them.

This fanfic is posted in response to the “18 Days of Fenders” prompts and writing challenge, running from March - April 2022. 😊

Special thanks to potatowitch and lesetoilesfous for sharing the insights into Fenris and Anders' banter that inspired this chapter 💖

This has also been cross-posted to AO3.

Follow @18daysoffenders

#18 days of fenders #fenders #fenders da2 #my writing #my fanfiction #fenris x anders #dragon age fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

silvanils · 3 years ago

Note

For DADWC: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” for Anders/Nathaniel? :D

@dadrunkwriting

I had WAY too much fun with this prompt! Mostly because I love the idea of Nathaniel also getting dragged into Hawke's shenanigans.

It was a slow night at the Hanged Man, which is probably for the best because even so the night was proving rather eventful for their visitor from Fereldan.

Nathaniel was still absolutely terrible at card games, his tells only becoming more obvious the more frustrated he became. A little frown, a shift in his seat, his hand rising to cover his mouth.

“Shit,” he groaned. “I mean - ah. Hm.”

“Remember, if you fold at the start of a round you have to take a long drink,” Hawke teased. Anders couldn’t help but smile as he glanced over to her.

Bright as ever, he thought. The one real beacon in this damn place.

He felt a boot clunk against his foot under the table, and arched an eyebrow as he returned his gaze to Nathaniel. Still so glum. He’d perked up a little when they’d gotten out of the Deep Roads — they all had — but Anders couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d said or done something that had offended Nate on the journey back to Kirkwall.

“You don’t want to get me really drunk,” Nate said, slowly, clearly struggling to keep his words clear. “I’d rather not wake up in bed with someone unexpected. Like the dwarf.”

Varric laughed, shaking his head. “Well, there go my plans for the night.”

“Careful,” Hawke teased, winking at Nate. “He’s only really got eyes for Bianca. Varric’s a one-crossbow kind of man.”

Nathaniel took a moment to process that information. Then he set his cards down and raised his cup in a toast. “Good for him. I can respect that.”

After the game, he asked Anders to help him get back to his room. They were halfway down the hallway, fitted together in the same way they’d often been back at the Vigil on nights like this, when it occurred to Anders what might be wrong.

“Wait a minute,” he said, glancing down at Nate. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Nate asked, his voice clipped. “Why would I be jealous? It’s good that you have friends. Or… whatever.”

“You’re jealous,” Anders said, unable to stop the smile that was creeping onto his face. “You know, you don’t have to be. They really are just friends. Mostly."

“Even if they weren’t, it’s been, what, six years? You’re happy. That’s all I care about,” Nate grumbled, frowning a little more as Anders led him through the door. After it shut, he sank onto the bed and pulled Anders after him, and despite the prickling feelings of protest in the back of his mind, Anders allowed it.

They just lay there like that for a few moments. Then Nate sighed. “You stopped writing suddenly, a few years back, and… I thought… Hawke? You really like Hawke. I shouldn’t be jealous of her. Not like I’ve been lonely at the Vigil. I have other people, too.”

“Nights still must get cold, though,” Anders breathed. “Bet no one else keeps your bed as warm as I do.”

Nathaniel snorted. Oh, Anders had missed that sound.

“I see you still enjoy tormenting me as much as ever. Fine. If I admit I'm jealous — does that make you happy, mage?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes. But only because it means you really missed me.”

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #dragon age awakening #dragon age 2 #nathaniel x anders #nanders #;knight writes

47 notes · View notes

contreparry · 3 years ago

Note

"senseless" from the one word prompts?

Absolutely! Here's some Modern Thedas! Roommates AU Fenders for @dadrunkwriting!

Fenris didn't know that a simple touch could be so... distracting.

Touch was touch. Contact was contact. He regularly kick boxed with Aveline, Hawke, Sebastian, and (now that he was back in town) Carver. He grappled, he traded blows, he grasped hands and limbs and twisted and hit and rolled around on the mats every week. And beyond that, he'd had sex before. He knew what it was to fuck, and thanks to the assistance of many people (a good therapist and many, many good friends) Fenris knew how to establish and keep his boundaries, how to discover what he liked and disliked in bed, how to advocate for his wants and needs. He had a few hasty hookups during his time in Kirkwall. He even dabbled in dating! That was healthy, right?

But even with all of this progress, most of the time Fenris preferred his own company in the bedroom. Easier, faster, a lot less emotionally draining, and he didn't have to worry about sneaking back into his apartment or whisking someone away without waking up his roommate. Anders worked odd hours, long hours, and even when they didn't get along Fenris didn't want to disturb the man's rest.

Of course, the whole problem about "disturbing your roommate" with your hookups suddenly went away when you and your roommate made other arrangements. Detailed arrangements. With each other.

Anders' breath was hot against the back of his neck. His hands lightly danced over his hips and underneath his thin t-shirt. His teeth skimmed across the thin skin that covered Fenris' pulse-point, pleasure-pain spiking lust in his groin and addling his thoughts.

"Finished your translation?" Anders murmured into his ear, right before he took Fenris' earlobe between his teeth and gently bit down.

"For the day," Fenris replied. He was pleased that he didn't collapse back into Anders' waiting arms- he could retain some dignity, at least, even if his knees trembled and with every touch Anders drove Fenris more and more wild.

"Dinner plans?" Anders asked.

"How do you feel about takeout?" Fenris didn't think he'd have the energy to cook after whatever Anders had planned. Anders, Fenris had now learned, was immensely creative. And terribly talented with his hands and mouth and tongue and teeth and the way he could make Fenris come apart with a word-

"Oh, we're being bad today, hmmm?" Anders purred, and he lightly pressed his palms against Fenris' chest, his fingers brushing against his nipples, teasing, tormenting-

"If you're only going to tease and not get to business-" Fenris muttered, but he was cut off by Anders' mouth on his, hot and desperate and clumsy, and Fenris twisted around, pushed Anders back down the hall as he nipped at Anders' bottom lip and sighed into his kisses. Bedroom. They needed to get to his bedroom, to his bed. It was still unmade from this morning, where they lay tangled together swapping lazy kisses and laughing as Pounce attacked their feet whenever they moved them under the sheets.

"You're driving me out of my senses," Fenris said as he pinned Anders to the bed, straddling his hips and pressing his clothed cock against the sliver of Anders' exposed stomach. Anders smirked.

"Then I'm doing my job," he replied, and he dragged Fenris down into his embrace.

#da drunk writing circle #my writing #Modern!Thedas Roommates AU

6 notes · View notes

potatowitch · 3 years ago

Note

yes! my party composition is similar but i'll sometimes switch out for aveline specifically to gain rivalry with her or i'll switch varric out for bela instead. i assume she was in dai, so what were her thoughts on liara lavellan? how did she react to the dai party? and what can you tell us about liara? :D

my friend you are spoiling me here i love you

she was in inquisition! her initial reaction to liara was "dammit varric you could've told me she was CUTE" bc rian is, above all things, a disaster lesbian. they agree a lot, and liara actually snort laughs at rian's terrible jokes, so she's automatically one of rian's favourite people bc of it. liara is also vehemently, violently anti-templar, to a point where rian is almost taken aback by it bc liara is not a mage (it stems from having a mage parent who was murdered by templars, so. y'know) but she's glad for it.

rian's thoughts on the inquisition companions are as follows:

varric my most beloved. love of my life. my soulmate. we were fated to be the best of buddies

cole is weird but i like him. sweet dude. has not told me it is unjust to steal money from the chantry donation boxes yet, so i like him more than the other spirit in my life

solas is weird. in a good way. i think? he is very cute with lavellan and reminds me of an old, cranky merrill

i am going to torment cullen the entire time i am here ehehehehe suck it noodlehead

leliana scares me. i am also very attracted to her

josephine is sweet. i like her

cassandra is unintentionally fucking hilarious lmao. not cool with her locking my best dude up in my own damn estate though, i will forever be salty about that

bull is dope as hell i love this guy

sera is dope as hell i love this girl

dorian is dope as hell i love this guy

something is Up with blackwall. i don't know what it is but something is Up

vivienne is so hot but so scary and she hates me so much

bonus: holy fuck harding is cute. varric are you seeing this shit, she's so cute

rian was uh. left behind in the fade, but i don't really see it as playing out the way it does in game - it wasn't liara's choice, it was rian's. she refused to let anyone else stay behind, she's already got survivor's guilt coming out her ears. alistair wouldn't be staying behind even if he wanted to lmao

liara is. complicated lmao. if rian is purple, and lyna (my warden) leans red, then liara leans blue, but it's very surface-level blue. she cares, she's full of compassion, but she is also full of so, so much hate. she's able to keep it under wraps, and it's very difficult to tell, but she is so incredibly angry under the surface, and it doesn't make itself apparent until trespasser when she loses her shit and everyone except leliana is so taken aback by it.

trespasser is kinda a turning point for her - she stops trying to fight back against how angry and bitter and in pain she is. the world has taken enough from her, it no longer deserves her understanding or her patience or her humility. she is scary post-trespasser, and not just because she leans into the whole "girlfriend of the dread wolf" thing as a power play. think leliana - how in origins she is deeply wounded and hurt, but still idealistic and willing to try, whereas you hit inquisition and she is brutal - that coldness was always there, she just had other things to temper it with, but she can still be pulled back. that's sort of the narrative i lean into with liara - there's hope there still, but she's definitely been hardened.

maybe obi-wan kenobi is a better comparison lmao. you see how many times that man leans dark side, especially in the clone wars series, but ultimately pulls himself back bc despite his feelings he has a definite sense of right vs wrong? yeah. that.

liara also hero-worships anders and justice. she's got a wee bit of a crush on justice specifically, too, and yes varric has pointed out that she doesn't know what he even looks like but he is the embodiment of justice, varric, how could anything be sexier, cmon

#rian #liara #blorbo talk

4 notes · View notes

sinsbymanka · 4 years ago

Text

Ten Favorite Dialogues from 2020

@a-shakespearean-in-paris tagged me to do 5 favorite lines/passages from 2020 that I’ve written but I am terrible and could not narrow it down to five. So I picked 10 lines of dialogue that I adored instead to keep it short. Sorry for cheating XD

From least to MOST favorite:

“We’re emphatically not welcome at the amusement park, Hawke. Cops will be called. We’ll have to explain ourselves to Aveline. I’ll develop ulcers.” Varric bemoaned.

“The Go Karting Incident” - Varric & Hawke Friendship One-Shot, Rated T

She whips around from the counter to stare at this strange skinny creature who feels so familiar and so strange at the same time. “What- who are you?”

He blinks once. Twice.

Then he repeats his name like she’s a goddamn idiot. “Cole.”

“Two for a Murderous Tango” - Cadash/Cole One-Shot, Rated E

“Princess, I’ve gotta warn you.” His voice, velvet soaked in gasoline on the edge of igniting, carried a note of warning. “I’m at the end of my rope. You do what I think you’re about to do, we’re not getting on that helicopter today. I don’t care if the Wardens are livestreaming blood magic rituals, I’m keeping you right here and taking my damn time.”

“Girl with the Arrow Tattoo” - Cadash/Varric Long Fic, Chapter 47 Rated E

“Roll over. I wanna see your fine dwarven assets up in the air.”

“I Knew I Had You Pegged” - Hawke/Varric One-Shot, Rated E

Oh. The opportunity was too good to miss. He formed his lips into a pout and clutched at the shirt over his heart. “Are you telling me I’m not pretty enough to have my legs up on your desk, Commander? I heard Olivia-”

“Just Following Orders” - Hawke/Lavellan One-Shot, Rated E

“I mean it y’know.”

“The threat to my manhood if I did not hurry up? Yes. I am aware.”

“Lyrium and Salt” - Fenris/Isabela One-Shot, Rated E

“Such a pretty treasure.” Zevran murmured. “Do you know what we do with pretty treasures?”

“Tease and torment them?” Rica asked.

Zevran laughed wickedly. “Oh no, mi amor. We plunder them.”

“An Antivan Bearing Gifts” - Zevran/Rica/Aeducan One-Shot, Rated E

He pulls back just enough to shoot her a look that’s almost chastising. “And you continue to be the most stubborn woman I know.”

She huffs a little, broken laugh that’s more arousal than anything else. “How many women do you actually know?”

“Center of the Storm” - Solas/Cadash short fic, Chapter 2, Rated E

“I’m afraid you’re too tall for this party, Bran.” Varric insisted. “But you’re in luck. The Blooming Rose hasn’t started charging by the inch yet.”

“Good, Clean Fun” - Varric/Hawke One-Shot, Rated E

AND FINALLY. I am outrageously proud of this dialogue. I don’t even care if it’s ridiculous.

Nobody joined Hawke in her amusement, so the peals of laughter died quickly. Instead, incredulous sapphire eyes swung between Anders, Varric, and the creature on the floor before coming back to Varric, Hawke’s mouth opening. “A selkie? Come on, that’s the sealiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Depths of Desire” - Cadash/Varric Long Fic, Chapter 6, Rated M

Seal with it.

I’m not tagging for this one BUT IF YOU SEE IT AND WANT TO DO FIVE THINGS OR TEN OR A HUNDRED DO IT. I believe in y’all. And tag me so I can come look.

#manka writes #manka's dialogue makes her laugh and truly that's the most important #is the selkie fic because I love seals #idk maybe don't @ me

23 notes · View notes

mischiefandspirits · 4 years ago

Text

Colony of Gotham (1/7)

Special thanks to @starlightandsunshine for helping me with this <3

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It's said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he'd never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners -- as his family grew -- they all followed suit.

Next Part

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

Bruce Wayne was born a vampire, one from the long-standing Kane family of vampires through his mother. This nature granted him a few abilities. He was more durable than a human and could heal faster. He was stronger and faster than a human and had better sight and hearing, though not to anywhere near the degree that some metas boasted. He could take on the form of an animal and could influence bats, corvids, canines, and felines to a certain extent. Finally, he would stop aging once he reached his thirties, a trait of those who were born or turned young instead of those like Alfred who were turned at an older age and therefore would always be that age.

However, when he set off on his path to becoming Batman, he swore to himself that he would not rely on any of this to fight the criminals that plagued Gotham. He would not be like those heroes past who relied on their powers, then were left defenseless when those abilities faltered or were ripped away. After all, only a vampire’s healing and longevity remained during the day and some spells and devices could similarly strip his nature away.

Batman stuck to his wits, tech, and martial arts training.

Even still, the criminals of Gotham could tell something was off about the Bat. Rumors flew about a demon haunting Gotham’s night, which Bruce leaned into. He hadn’t chosen a bat just because of the family significance. He wanted to strike fear. As such, he stuck to the shadows and allowed his fangs to bare. He used makeup to make himself appear paler and contortionist tricks to make his movements uncanny. He allowed Batman to become an urban legend that sent shivers down the spines of Gotham’s infamous.

When Barbara Gordon became Batgirl, she quickly realized his tricks were just that and leaned into them as well. She became a ghost following in the Bat’s footsteps. She disappeared into a mist made from special smoke pellets and spun across the ground and air in a weightless way that came from years of ballet and gymnastics training. She wore shadows like Batman’s, but violet and gold peeked through the darkness to make her stand apart.

Bruce initially didn’t want her in the field, but she eventually proved herself both competent and stubborn. In a bid to help protect her, he outfitted her with proper gear and let her in on the secret of his nature. She considered it, then a week later she asked him to turn her so she could always watch his back.

Then Dick Grayson was taken in by the billionaire and became the Bloody Robin. They called him a demon child, the son of the Bat who flew on bird’s wings. His cheerful laughs and giggles echoed and hissed eerily thanks to a voice filter. His clothes were bright colors, but were covered by the wing-like shadows that wrapped over his shoulders. Fake blood dripped from his hair and eyes and coated the tips of his gloves and cape. He chirped like a bird as he flipped and flew through the air. His mask made his eyes glow white and his body almost appeared boneless when he moved around on the ground thanks to the contortionist who’d babysat him at the circus.

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

The three heard the tales when teams of heroes began to form, but they didn’t reach out. Gotham’s Colony was a myth, an urban legend. Those outside of Gotham had never heard of them and those within only spoke in whispers.

That was how the Colony preferred it.

Besides, the rest of the world wasn’t as dark as Gotham.

Their tricks and games worked fine in the shadow-filled gothic architecture that made up Gotham, the near-perpetual overcast days, and the deep darkness of Gotham’s nights, but cities like Jump, Metropolis, or Central were far brighter. They could do without, they’d proven that plenty of times against the bigger villains that were either too crazy or brave to fear the Bat, but why should they? The tricks and games had become a part of them over the years and discarding a piece of themselves just so they could work outside of Gotham with strangers felt wrong.

So the Colony stuck to their own.

On the job, at least.

Dick met Wally West at a two-week-long Jr. Forensics Summer Camp when they were eleven and thirteen respectively. Bruce had sent him to brush up on his skills while Wally’s mentor, Barry Allen, thought it would be good training. Neither boy knew about each other's secret lives, but became close friends all the same and kept in contact when they returned home. Dick didn’t reveal it to Wally when he discovered the other boy was Kid Flash, but kept a close eye on Central City just in case.

A similar situation happened two years later when the Colony discovered Green Arrow’s latest protégé, a girl named Artemis Crock, lived in Gotham and had been helped into Gotham Academy by the other billionaire. Dick decided to keep an eye on her, but his pseudo-stalking quickly turned into a genuine friendship.

He may have taken a bit too much joy in introducing Wally and Artemis to one another. Wally got back at him a few years later by introducing him to the model Kory Anders, the secret identity of his celebrity crush Starfire. Dick had to admit to having a crush on Kory as well to explain his nerves.

It turned out to be a net gain in the end, though, since he came out of it with her phone number.

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

As time passed, Dick started to get too old to be the demon child. He decided to create a new story for himself. One that would let him step out from under the shadow of the bat, using a name from an alien myth in Bruce’s files that he’d loved reading growing up. He and Bruce argued, and Dick spent some time sleeping on Barbara’s couch, but with nowhere to run they were forced to come to a compromise. There was still tension, but it was smoothed over with time and a bite.

Nightwing was a nocturnal bird that had taken human shape after being taken in by Batgirl’s elegance. It chased after and raced the ghost, nothing but shadows and a blue streak flying through the air. Those who got close enough to see his face would say that his skin was like porcelain while black wings covered his eyes completely and his lips were painted with darkness.

Nightwing wasn’t the only change to the Colony, though, because as Dick was finishing up his designs for the story, a little boy was stealing the tires off the Batmobile.

Dick was furious when the kid climbed out of the car into the cave, thinking Bruce had brought the kid in as a new Robin without even consulting him, but anger’s quickly replaced by confusion.

Because Batman wasn’t with the kid.

Jason Todd had gotten grabbed by the Bat after having already nicked three tires off the batmobile. Batman caught him before he could run then replaced the tires. He’d made a mistake in leaving the boy in the car when he went to call for someone to pick him up, however. Jason, who some might generously call impulsive, proceeded to use the opportunity presented to him to hotwire the vehicle and take it for a joyride that ended when he accidentally had the autopilot bring him to the cave.

Dick was immediately taken with the small spitfire’s story, as well as his stubbornness and intellect. Meanwhile, Jason was amused by the fact that Gotham’s demon was, in his eyes, nothing more than a spectacular conman and wanted in. They teamed up to force Bruce to adopt the younger boy through underhanded -- and perhaps slightly illegal -- tactics.

As Dick started using his new story more and Robin less, Jason got his own turn under Batman’s cape.

People started to say Robin was more vicious. He’d climb walls, the claws on his feet and hands easily cutting into brick and metal. He’d give a fang-filled smirk as he hung from the ceiling like he’d forgotten he was a bird instead of a bat, only to drop down on unsuspecting shoulders. If he wasn’t clawing at opponents, he was beating them with his fists.

As one of his first acts as Robin, Jason saved a young boy who had been kidnapped for ransom. The kid had acted out of it during the rescue, but Jason put it down to trauma. He’d had no reason to realize the young detective-to-be had noticed the edge of Jason’s fake fangs through the shadows and fake blood. No one could have predicted the rabbit hole young Tim Drake had just fallen down nor that it would lead him to massive discoveries in the near future.

When Jason discovered Catherine Todd wasn’t his birth mother, he considered going alone to look for the mystery woman who’d given birth to him. He and Bruce had just had a fight about his temper that had left him benched and he wanted to prove himself, but something Dick had told him months before echoed in his mind.

“No matter how much we argue, we’re always going to be there for each other. Us birds and bats, we’re a family. We have to stick together.”

In the end, he asked Dick and Barbara for help. It was something he was thankful for when his mother sold him out to the Joker. At least he could hold out against the torment with the knowledge his true family would soon come for him.

When Batgirl and Nightwing arrived, Joker fled. Barbara got Jason out while Dick, after seeing the state of his brother, tracked down the clown. Bruce got to him just in time to stop him from beating Joker to death, but when he saw Jason’s condition he couldn’t bring himself to scold his elder son for his loss of control.

Jason was barely hanging on and Bruce, knowing there was no other choice, turned him.

The boy lived, but his injuries were too severe and he fell into a coma.

Three weeks later, Bruce and Dick came into Bruce’s study to find Tim Drake waiting for them. Both were a little more focused on “My parents are never home” than “so I’m in a perfect position to cover for Jason as Robin while he’s sleeping,” to Tim’s confusion, but he ended up in the suit all the same.

The whispers that had come after Joker’s latest incarceration had him crowing about clipping bird wings tapered off as Robin sightings flared up throughout the city. People saw him flying next to the Bat and they heard him tap-tap-tapping his claws. He tapped them against the walls as he hunted through warehouses and against the floors as he crouched in front of technology that seemed to unlock under his gaze thanks to the computer that’d been built into his gloves, the interface of which could only be seen through the lenses in the Colony’s masks and cowls.

Tim didn’t really know how to feel about being adopted by Bruce, aside from the guilt he knew was mixed in there somewhere. It felt wrong to be slipping into the family like that while Jason was right there and Dick had to talk him down when the anxiety attack eventually hit.

Tim was Tim. He wasn’t Jason and they didn’t want him to be Jason.

Dick understood though. He explained how Dick and Jason had both had similar feelings regarding Barbara and Dick respectively, though Dick could admit he’d gotten off easier all things considered. He told Tim that the Colony was a family, and adoption or not, Tim was a part of that now. Jason wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Tim.

When Jason woke, Dick had a similar conversation with him after Jay saw a news broadcast about Tim while waiting for the others to arrive. It soothed him some, and Tim soothed him more when he assured Jason he wasn’t taking Robin from him.

“There can’t be two Robins.”

“Why can’t there?”

As Jason went through physical training to get back in shape, the two worked together to develop a strategy for acting as Robin together. One part of this was Trillic.

Tim, with help from Dick and Jason, invented a secret language made up of chirps, whistles, and clicks. It started as a way for the Robins to communicate with each other without giving away there was more than one, but over time the rest of the Colony picked it up and the vocabulary expanded until it became the family’s own personal language that they’d use whenever they didn’t feel like using words.

A few days after Jason was released from the hospital, Dick found Jason down in the cave and grew worried his little brother was pushing himself too soon after his accident. Then he saw the young woman on the screen. She looked a year or two older than Jason with long red hair, olive skin, and bright green eyes.

They’d met in Ethiopia, Jason told him, while saving a woman from some men. Jason had wanted to try to track her down now that he was awake. He’d succeeded, but it turned out she was an Amazonian hero.

Combined with the fact her name was Artemis, Dick couldn’t help but laugh and make a joke about Jason following in his footsteps. Jason smacked him and told him she was really more of an anti-hero so it wasn’t the same as Dick making friends with Kid Flash and Tigress, but Dick ignored him.

Jason did end up contacting her, and even got her to take a visit to Gotham. Dick took the opportunity to introduce her to Wally and his own Artemis, who Wally began to refer to as Stripes to not get confused. When questioned, he claimed it was because of some outfit of hers that stuck in his mind. Dick and Jason, knowing it was actually based on her identity as Tigress, nodded along and picked up using the name, to her annoyance.

Surprisingly, the two women didn’t get along despite their similar attitudes. This led to them taking great offense whenever people couldn’t tell which Artemis was being talked about, something only Jason, Dick, and Alfred never managed to do.

While the teens were laughing over this, whispers were going around about how the Bloody Robin seemed to be everywhere. If you fled from a room you knew he was in, you’d find him standing right in front of you in the new room. There was no escape. And he trilled more than ever, though his voice almost seemed to echo back at him as if he was having a conversation.

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

Not long after the Justice League had formed, Barbara had hacked into their security system and planted a little bug she named Mockingbird. It was designed to alert her whenever someone mentioned the Colony’s civilian or vigilante identities and copy any footage during the time. More often than not all it gave her was Wally and Bow-Artemis (as most of the family thought of her, to contrast with Axe-Artemis) discussing Dick. Every so often though, there’d be someone pining after Dick or Bruce, which could be good for a laugh depending on who it was.

On a day not long after the Robins had been set loose together, Mockingbird gave her something that was sort of new, yet at the same time not.

The video started with Wally discussing some prank he and Dick had pulled on Bruce and slowly devolved into him just bragging about how awesome Dick was. Suddenly he froze, staring off into the air.

Artemis took one look at him and asked, “Did you finally realize you’ve got a crush on your best friend?”

He immediately went to reassure his girlfriend, but she said got it and even shared his feelings.

Barbara settled in to watch the show.

Unfortunately, it took longer than she’d anticipated for Dick to catch on that the two actually wanted to date him and not just spend more time with him. He was usually pretty good at picking up on people’s feelings, yet Artemis ended up having to pull him into her lap during a movie night and kiss him flat on the lips before it sunk in.

When Barbara approached him about it, he pouted over her spying. Then he admitted that he’d known for years they all had feelings for each other, he just hadn’t wanted to risk getting in the middle of the two’s relationship since they seemed so happy together. When he’d realized how they’d started flirting with him, he’d been worried they were just after a quick thing and he couldn’t do that to himself. So he’d put on his media mask of naive ditz Dickie who wouldn’t recognize flirting if it hit him in the face.

Thankfully the two had reassured him and after talking it through, the three settled happily into their throuple.

To congratulate his brother, Jason gave him a solid week before making jokes about Dick following in Bruce’s footsteps by dating someone with a feline-themed suit.

The next hurdle was deciding how to deal with the media. Dick was Richard “Dickie” Grayson, eldest son of Bruce Wayne. The media loved to go on about him. Pretty much every second of his relationship with Kory had been recorded by the press. Neither of them had minded. He was still a performer at heart, always would be, and she was a warrior princess who had been in the spotlight all her life.

But Dick knew Wally and Artemis weren’t Kory so he talked to them about how they wanted to handle things.

In the end, they agreed only friends and family would know about Artemis, but Wally and Dick would go public. They all had practice keeping much bigger secrets so it wasn’t hard on Artemis to hide their relationship. Meanwhile, Wally didn’t mind playing around for the cameras. Plus, he knew how people treated Dick when they thought he was single and a small possessive part of him didn’t want them trying anything, even if he knew Dick would never cheat.

Things didn’t actually turn out too bad. Of course, there were always the conservatives that came around when Dick got a boyfriend, but they never stuck around long. Bruce had made his support of Dick’s sexuality very clear from the beginning and no one wanted to risk really ticking someone as rich and connected as him off by attacking his son like that.

The real problem came when their agreement to tell their families accidentally didn’t reach everyone.

Dick had been alone at the manor when it happened.

Bruce had gone on a weekend business trip, bringing Tim with him. Alfred was on a trip to England. Jason had taken the opportunity to spend the weekend hopefully not blowing things up with Artemis Grace, who had ended up getting a small flat in Gotham to act as her home base so she could visit with Jason and Dick during the rare occasions she wasn’t running across the world causing trouble with the Outlaws. Dick had been planning to spend the weekend with his partners at Stripe’s apartment, but they’d both been caught up by something (Dick assumed a mission had unexpectedly run long) so he had the night to himself.

He was watching a movie in the theater room when he felt a shift in the air. He immediately dropped to the floor, barely avoiding the sai that had been coming for his throat. Then he was over the back of the couch and engaging the assassin. He quickly realized she was with the League of Assassins as he recognized moves Bruce had picked up from them. She was good, too, but she had clearly come to the fight unprepared to face a Gotham myth. He didn’t take too many hits before pinning her and binding her hands and feet with the obijime from her dress. He then disarmed her of all her hidden weapons just in case.

When he questioned her, she declared that she was Artemis’s sister and had come to avenge her honor after Wally had betrayed her for Dick. She was not going to sit back and let the fool cheat on or dump her sister for the likes of a man she had believed was nothing more than an airheaded socialite.

Then, with narrowed eyes, she added that she had clearly been mistaken as not many airheaded socialites had been trained by assassins. Nor did they use moves only known by those trained by Ra’s al Ghul.

Dick ignored that and explained the trio’s situation as he untied her, having recognized her as Cheshire aka Jade Nguyen aka his girlfriend’s -- apparently protective -- assassin sister.

He took pride in the fact that he was dating someone who was only related to criminals instead of actually dating a criminal, unlike a certain father of his.

She thankfully believed him, though she did warn that should he be lying or should he hurt Artemis, she wouldn’t underestimate him a second time. She made a few more thinly veiled digs at his assassin-based fighting style as he showed her out that he cleanly sidestepped with comments about self-defense training. They both knew she didn’t believe a word of it, but she left it alone as she slipped away into the night.

So long as her sister remained unharmed, she had no desire to get involved in whatever was going on between the Wayne’s and al Ghul’s.

Before she left Gotham, though, she met Artemis and Wally on their way in and informed her sister that she approved of her new boyfriend. Both to be sure Dick was telling the truth and to mess with the speedster. The two predictably freaked out and she used their panic to slip away.

Dick answered Artemis’s call with, “Oh hey, Stripes! Your sister came by earlier to give me the shovel talk over tea. It was pretty gory, but I think the one Jason gave Wally was still probably worse so I’m not going to complain. Are we still on for tomorrow?” to their relief.

Artemis had not wanted to try to explain her assassin sister to her civilian boyfriend.

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

I decided to use Stephanie's Batgirl suit for Babs because most of Babs' suits are either bright or look just like Batman's. Steph will get other suits of hers when she appears.

The Robin suit looks just like Dick's from The Batman (2004), just bloodier.

Nightwing's suit looks like the typical V one, just with the eyes of the mask being blacked out. Also, black lipstick because yes.

Vampires’ animal forms:

Bruce: Gray bat

Alfred: Common raven

Selina: Oriental shorthair cat

Barbara: Little red flying fox

Dick: Black-billed magpie

Jason: Malayan flying fox

#batman #batfam #colony of gotham #fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

razumairon · 4 years ago

Note

Dragon Age ask 💖

1. How did you get into Dragon Age? 25. Favorite DA:I place? 49. Something you do in EVERY DA playthrough, no matter what? 73. Favorite OST song(s)?

Of course 💕

I've already answered to question 1 in the previous post, I wouldn't mind to answer again but it's very long LOL

25. Favorite DA:I place?

Ah, that's a tough one. I don't really know, I've never thought about it, but now that you ask I think I appreciate the Emerald Graves. The green is so bright, it makes me almost feel alive and in peace (until I see five fucking giants aiming at me). I also appreciate Skyhold a lot.

49. Something you do in EVERY DA playthrough, no matter what?

Since I tend to make the same decisions because I see myself too much in the character (even if I made them with an almost totally different personality than mine), this question is hard too, but I think I'll go with Cullen and the choice between taking the lyrium or not. I always told him not to, I saw the epilogue on YouTube if he keeps taking lyrium and it made me sadder than Solavellan and Trespasser all together (and I'm not a huge fan of Cullen, I specify). That's for DAI, I don't know about DAO and DA2 because I played them only once (and probably never again, the Deep Roads and the Fade from DAO made me curse too much and DA2 kept closing itself every 10 minutes until the final battle came. It's been a torment), I think I would never allow Loghain to live or ally with Branka. Can't really say about DA2, probably I would always spare Anders.

73. Favorite OST song(s)?

Oh, man, are you sure you're ready for the seminar? XD As I said in the previous post, I discovered the game thanks to Lindsey Stirling cover, so the main theme is my favourite OST ever, it has a special place in my heart. However, the Dark Solas theme is amazing as well and the Lost Elf Theme too. I like the Orlesian theme too and a leitmotif that is used in many tracks. I really enjoy the tavern songs as well, my favourite one is Sera was never (ironic, huh?), but I really like Enchanters (I love imagining Marayn singing it to Solas while caressing his forehead) and Fall of the Magister.

4 notes · View notes

bowenandjohnson · 5 years ago

Text

Elite Season 3 Theories Masterpost

Since it was announced this morning that Elite season 3 will be released on Netflix on March 13, along with a short teaser and a lot of promotional photos, I thought I would put them all together in a large post of my predictions for this season. If you don’t want to be spoiled, I’m putting them all under the cut!

Season Theme

Under the date announcement teaser trailer, one of the Netflix youtube accounts listed a new synopsis of the upcoming season--which claims that another one of our beloved Las Encinas students will die, and yet another police investigation ensues. The last two lines also talk about “the future” and “the past.” Other BTS spoilers have indicated that the students will also graduate from Las Encinas, most likely at the end of the season, and for them to move on peacefully, most of them will have to rectify their mistakes from the past 16 episodes. Possible character redemption definitely seems possible, especially for Lu, Valerio, Ander, Cayetana, and others!

Other Plot Points:

The Polo of it All

It appears from this photo that the murder case of Marina Nunier Osuna goes to some type of judicial court. It appears (at least to me) that Carla and Polo are possibly giving their own testimonies of that night that Marina died. Unfortunately, since it’s a he said-she said situation without the murder weapon, Polo will probably be acquitted of all charges for the time being. Certainly helps that he’s a wealthy, white teenager too.

Even if Polo gets acquitted of all charges in Marina’s death for the time being, it appears that his time at Las Encinas won’t get any easier, judging from this photo where he’s seen choking Valerio. Rebeca looks like she’s having a hell of a time trying to get Polo to let go. Other observations that I have is that Polo looks severely unkempt and rougher than usual--probably another sign of his worsening mental state.

Once Polo gets acquitted, I would assume that Guzman then reaches out to Polo to reconnect. He’s offering him a beer, and it looks like they’re playing video games in Guzman’s room again. However, I believe that Guzman has ulterior motives for doing this. He’s going to team up with other students, including Samuel, to find the trophy, and finally get Polo nailed for the death of his sister once and for all.

A Possible Timeline of Events

Flashforwards: Graduation from Las Encinas (and the Spanish Scooby Gang’s Master Plan)

It for sure looks like this is part of the graduation from Las Encinas. The hallways are decorated, and in the lower right-hand corner by Valerio, it looks like blue and aqua balloons are scattered somewhere. This is where I also became sure that Samuel, Valerio, and Rebeca are for sure going to help Guzman take down Polo and possibly Cayetana for good. Spanish Scooby Gang assemble!

It makes sense that Samuel would help Guzman, as he still feels an intimate connection to his sister, and how he genuinely loved her in some way. While thinking of possible reasons of why Rebeca and Valerio would aid Guzman in his quest, I again circled back to the theme of redemption. Rebe feels guilty that her mother (and by extension, herself) almost got Samuel killed for involving him in the family business. Valerio feels guilty for the fact that he recorded Nadia and Guzman having sex in the locker room. Helping take down a murderer is certainly on the way for redemption for Valerio, and to get Samuel and Rebeca talking again.

They just gotta get a hold of that missing trophy!

Extended Scooby Gang

The fact that we see Nadia and Rebeca smiling and standing with Lu, who has tormented them in the past, is a clear sign of the season’s theme of looking towards the future, letting go of the past, and ultimately redemption. If Lu helps the Scooby Gang (which would include Nadia and Rebe) take down a murderer to try and absolve her past sins at Las Encinas, it would show a true sign of growth for the character. However, I would like to see her problematic behavior addressed and dealt with before she is completely forgiven. Show, don't tell, how the character has evolved over the course of the season.

Flashforwards: Graduation Party at the Club

After the class graduates, it makes sense that the gang would party together one last time at the club. From this photo, we can see that Omar, Ander, Nadia, Guzman, Rebeca, Cayetana, Valerio, Lu, Samuel, and Carla will all be present at some point. Whatever or whoever they’re looking at offscreen in this photo doesn’t appear welcome. Polo perhaps?

Somebody’s Dying Tonight/The Party is Definitely Over Now

From this photo, it is made clear that someone is not making it out alive of Elite season 3, and the mystery of who it is and why will probably slowly unravel across these next eight episodes. If you zoom in closely on Guzman’s hands, you can see blood on them, which factors into my “who’s dying?” list.

1. Ander - Ander isn’t shown in this photo, which made me immediately suspicious. At the end of season 2, Guzman angrily said to him that he hopes Ander falls and cracks his head open on the ground. Possible foreshadowing for his death? Due to his sorrowful look and his bloody hands, he may regret those words. If Ander dies, it would also make sense to why Omar and Nadia are not present in these photos. Omar is Ander’s boyfriend, and Nadia might be accompanying both of them to the hospital where he’ll be pronounced dead. I do find it hard to believe though that they would fridge a gay man, and one who is a part of the fan-favorite ship of the show. Who knows, however?

2. Lu - Lu’s been a tough character for me to get behind throughout the show’s run. While I do like Danna Paola’s portrayal of her, I certainly don’t condone her actions of bullying, islamophobia, racism, or incest in any form. Getting back on track, she also isn’t seen in this photo, and neither is Valerio, her brother. Lu’s death would also explain Carla’s sorrowful expression, as they used to be best friends. Guzman was also one of her closest friends and her boyfriend at one point, so they once had a deep connection. Omar was also a new friend of Lu’s, so it’s possible that he might have accompanied her to the hospital. Lu’s death might also explain Samuel’s, Rebeca’s, and Cayetana’s look of indifference, as she bullied them all at points in the last two seasons, and their relationships with her were often contentious. Lu’s death may be one way to ultimately redeem the character also.

3. Nadia - As stated before, Nadia is also not shown in this photo, which is surprising as in the other club photo, she is seen standing very closely next to Guzman. She is Guzman’s primary love interest in the show, so that is also why he looks so sad, and the blood on his hands might be from an attempt to keep her alive until an ambulance came. Although if she was truly in peril, I believe that Omar, Rebeca, and Guzman (maybe even Samuel!) would probably go with her to the hospital. However, anything’s possible.

4. Yeray/Malick - We haven’t seen the new kids in any photos from the party so far. Therefore, they could also die. RIP.

Despite Guzman having blood on his hands, I don’t think he’s the murderer. Too big of a spoiler to put in promotional materials. Next.

Love Is in the Air

Guzman/Nadia

Considering what happened in season 2 for these two, where they were filmed having sex and then publicly shamed at school, I’ll consider it a win if they’re standing closely together in a promo picture. I believe that these two will eventually find their way back to each other, and that they’re meant to be. They might spend the season mostly apart, but considering that a magazine also leaked these candids of the two actors kissing, hugging, and talking in these outfits, Guznadia is definitely endgame in some shape or form.

Lu/Valerio/Rebeca/Samuel

Since Valerio ended his incestuous relationship with Lu last season in the finale, it would make sense that he would try to move on with a new girl. And who better than Rebeca, who he’s already kissed at the Back-to-School party? If he makes some kind of play for Rebeca, it might make Samuel jealous and admit some feelings towards Rebe--considering the magazine also leaked candids of Samu and Rebe kissing outside of school in their uniforms.

However, considering Valerio’s “connection” with Lu, he may have a hard time moving on for good, as seen in the first picture. In my opinion, the picture of Lu/Valerio only serves to further my #LuDies theory. A sweet forehead kiss between siblings/former lovers at the grad party? Spells one word: doom.

Samuel/Carla/Yeray

Samucarla has become a fan-favorite ship for many in the Elite fandom. So seeing this picture of Yeray (played by Sergio Momo) with his arms around Carla may hurt some people’s feelings. It is clear that at some point in this season, Samuel does kiss Rebe, however in the magazine spread of Elite candids, Samuel and Carla were seen talking at the grad party, and Carla had her hand on Samu’s face. Will the two try to move on from another, but eventually pulled back together? I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Omar/Ander

Fan-favorites “Omander” have no solo promotional pictures so far, but both were glimpsed in the party photo. Their storylines this season may be very spoilery and integral to the plot, which is why they weren’t shown as much.

Polo/Cayetana

Like Omander, the two were in promo shots, but never seen together. This also hints at the two’s dynamic being super important to season 3, considering Polo is a murderer and Caye is now his accomplice in covering up his crime.

These are just my theories for the upcoming season based on what is available to us right now, and I will certainly update them as more material comes out! Feel free to let me know your own thoughts, and make sure to watch season 3 when it comes out March 13th on Netflix!

#elite netflix #elite s3 #polo benavent #guzman nunier #lu montesinos #nadia shanaa #guznadia #samucarla #omander #elite spoilers #long post #there are two many characters to tag i'm sorry

104 notes · View notes

sasskarian · 4 years ago

Note

I know you're not exactly a DA blog anymore... But... I just finished DA2 for the very first time and, and. I got myself Inquisition with all DLCs. I need to know what happens. I want the poor baby Cullen to be happy :(

Nonnie, I am still at my heart very much a DA blog (and Mass Effect; I just tend to smear new obsessions everywhere. Like finger painting). I curate my experience as much as I can due to the fandom being shit, but my love for DA is strong and steady.

The best thing I can say is, play through the game and DLCs. (Tho suggested order is Jaws > Descent > Trespasser) I promise you, Cullen has the option of being happy. I wouldn’t write about it if I didn’t see those paths, and at least some of them are canon.

I know what you mean, tho. Cullen is, to some of my friends’ dismay, near and dear to my heart. He’s my canon quiz’s romance, for many reasons. The truth is, I struggle with the fandoms’ interpretations of him and was just talking about this with my DA/FO/ME bestie @asaara-writes the other day. I think a lot of Cullen’s trauma is easily missed or overlooked in favor of louder plots (like Fenris’s, who doesn’t get hated on nearly so much for his hatred and distrust of mages, or Anders who hates Templars and is lauded for it. If I see another ANDERS WAS RIGHT banner, I’m gonna overclock somebody’s capacitors)

(Pardon me, I’ll throw this under a cut because wall of text, but I have some got-damn Opinions on Cullen and how the fandom treats him)

But for me, I’m neither in the “Cullen is poor bab who never did anything wrong uwu” or the “Cullen is a horrible bastard and should be set afire” camp. I walk a more moderate line, and here’s why:

I have a Cullen.

My fiance, he’s... so much like Cullen that it breaks my heart. Military vet, disillusioned with his desire to do good in the world and the realities of corruption and power abuse. Substance abuse issues, and recovery from addiction. Said some bad things/had bad opinions when he was younger due to abuse by certain groups of people, and has since reformed and is trying to continue changing. Abuse survivor. Blood on his hands from his career. Trying his best to find his way in a world that he doesn’t understand. So I see the similarities, and I live with the reality of what that kind of history and life is like.

Cullen was a fresh-faced 18 year old in the Kinloch Circle (however old his in-game image looks, he was canon 18-20). Which, by canon, was one of the less problematic, more lenient Circles (though you have to have Mage origin to find that stuff out). I don’t think he’d been a Templar long at that point. And he joined the Templars out of a desire to do good in the world. His examples of Templar behavior were those stationed in a small village, who had more leniency and less lawkeeping duties. Honnleath was tiny, and quiet. I’m going on assumption here, on my own history of small towns vs larger cities, that there wasn’t much evidence of power hunger and abuse an eight year old would notice.

Note that he remains kind and even remorseful at some of his duties (for instance, having to attend Harrowings) even under a hateful man like Greagoir.

When Uldred takes over the Circle and kills everyone, Cullen is the last left. He watches possessed mages and demons run wild in his home, killing and torturing his friends. If you’re a mage origin, he talks about how the demons used his feelings and affection for you, inappropriate though they were, to torment him. It’s implied through dialogue that at least some of those demons sexually abused him.

Yes, in his panic and fresh trauma, he begs the Warden to kill any mages found left in the Circle. I wonder why. Tumblr at large acts like the only way for PTSD and trauma to be exhibited is through cowering and nightmares, but it’s well known among people who have PTSD (including myself) that outrage, hair trigger tempers, and anger issues are as common as crying jags and insomnia.

After the resolution of Broken Circle, Cullen is reassigned to Kirkwall. Arguably, this is the worst possible Circle he could have been sent to in the entirety of the goddamn world. Not only is Kirkwall famous for increased blood mage activity (both due to history and also due to Templar behavior), which is one of his trauma-groups, but Meredith hates mages, and rules over them with an iron fist. She is fucking crazy, and whether her past makes her a sympathetic villain or not (ymmv), she downright encouraged the abuse of mages and as she loses her mind, we see her start accusing everyone of blood magic.

Canon states that there are Templars in Kirkwall who sexually abuse mages, who torture them, and who kill them at will, and these are never dealt with. Meredith has no desire to change the way the Gallows is run, and it’s said or implied that before her reign as the overseer, the Gallows-- while still not great-- was not this bad.

So, freshly traumatized and young Templar is sent to the worst possible place in Thedas, under the command of a crazed mage hater, surrounded by the very thing that will trigger him nigh constantly. I see a lot of the fandom say “well why didn’t he quit/leave?” And I wonder if those fans understand what indoctrination can do. Specifically, military indoctrination. You’re told that the ranks are your home, your family, the only ones who can or will ever understand you. You’re told this for so long that it becomes a life raft. It becomes your world truth. That’s the nature of emotional abuse that fosters codependency: it literally reshapes your world.

Added to that, Templars are controlled by the Chantry through lyrium, an addictive drug that quitting is difficult and surviving the withdrawal of is often fatal. (that’s another rant entirely that can be summed up as tl;dr fuck the fucking Chantry)

The Templars were the only thing he knew. After that kind of soul-shaking trauma, do you leave behind everything you ever knew? (Remember, he was 13 when he joined into this kind of brainwashing.) No. You cleave to what you can, to what keeps you getting through the day.

Cullen spent a further ten years in Kirkwall, watching the city fall apart under Qunari, blood magic, and Meredith’s increasing insanity. There was no reprieve for his PTSD: everywhere he turned, there was Something. And yet, we hear in Inquisition (depending on player choices, ofc) Samson say that Cullen tried to continue to be kind. He didn’t abuse mages, he tried to protect them where and how he could.

[Samson: He arrived after the trouble at the ferelden circle. Cullen jumped at his shadow in those days, always on the watch for abominations and demons. Did right by the mages, though, never played rough with them. Not like Meredith.]

Was it limited? Yes. Was it hampered by circumstance? Yes. Should he have tried harder? Yes.

But he still tried.

Does he say regrettable things? Yes. Does he regret those things later? Yes.

I had a friend, who I am no longer friends with for various reasons, tell me that “If Cullen was a good person, he wouldn’t need a redemption arc.” And... no, No, that’s not how redemption arcs work. Everyone does problematic things. Everyone who grows up brainwashed has to unlearn shit, and atone for shit.

Cullen still struggles with mages. He still has a deep fear of them. Partly this is the Templar in him talking, partly this is trauma. And, here’s where we break from canon and go deep into psychology land: I think partly because he’s projecting. Cullen cannot imagine forgiveness for what he’s done. I wonder if part of him fears mages because he expects-- perhaps even some part of him desires-- retribution from them for his actions and past.

And there’s things that have been retconned or that were misleading in previous games. For example, the rumor that Cullen escaped after Broken Circle and went on a mage murdering spree. That was nothing but a rumor, but the fandom levies it against him as if it happened.

But if Cullen “hated” mages, you wouldn’t be able to romance him as a mage. And honestly, that mage romance in DAI? Is one of the sweetest, most tender things I’ve seen in DA. As a mage, you can choose to help him past his fears, help him with his lyrium addiction. Help him grow as a person, and watch as he becomes a better person. As he learns that mages are more than their magic, and that Templars are so often wrong and awful in their treatment of them.

I find Cullen to be well written. And believable as hell. The portrayal of him-- from the mood swings, to the trauma, to the shaky but steadying growth-- feels real, and I can back that up with my fiance’s own similar path.

So. To wrap up because hoooooo, Opinions, play through the game. There’s a lot of gems there. <3

#cullen rutherford #fandom critical #dragon age #anti-cullen #cullen critical #i have a lot of Opinions on this #also no i'm not taking opinions on this #my real life experience applied to fandom is more important to me than being yelled at for liking a character i find relatable af #Anonymous #food for thought #food for thot

13 notes · View notes

degenerate-perturbation · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 21/32 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age II Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution, Drowning, Wilderness Survival Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

All around Yvanne the enormous cypress thrummed with life. If there was a world beyond the belly of the hollow tree, she didn’t quite believe it.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Of course you don’t understand,” her great grandmother said kindly. Distant bells seemed to ring with every one of her words. All of a sudden Yvanne wasn’t sure if the old woman’s lips were actually moving when she spoke to her. “Who could possibly expect you to?”

“Why did you bring me here? That spirit I saw—was that you?”

“In a way,” the old woman allowed. “But I did not bring you here. You brought yourself.”

“But you called me. You told me to come home.”

“Is that what you heard?” She smiled. “Oh, my daughter.”

That stung. “Stop it,” Yvanne growled. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not as well as I’d like. But we have met, in the world beneath the world.”

“You’ve been spying on me,” Yvanne realized. “Through the Fade. Just what gave you the right?”

The old woman’s bright eyes flashed. “Precisely the same thing that gives you to look in on those you wish to see.”

“That’s—that’s not the same,” Yvanne faltered. “I didn’t want to look. I tried not to look. I couldn’t control it.”

“But you’d like to. And so you are here.”

“No, I’m here because you called me. I’m here because I had just settled into a perfectly contented life when all of a sudden I became tormented by these voices—your voice.”

Yvanne could load quite a lot of furious accusation into a short phrase spoken softly, but the old woman remained unmoved. “Believe me, my daughter, I do not have the power to bring about what you experienced. If you heard my voice, it was as a trickle in a torrent. You have begun to awaken as a spirit mage.”

“And just what in the void does that mean?”

In tones of infinite patience: “For years you have hobbled yourself; now you are beginning to walk freely for the first time. Of course you were overwhelmed. Anyone would be. Nobody here in Dairsmuid awakens in their third decade of life, without the benefit of any guidance whatsoever.” In tones of bottomless sorrow: “You have been done a great disservice.”

Yvanne stood for a while, feeling all the hot air leak out of her.

“So can you help me?” she said, defeated. “Or not?”

“Of course I can. And I will. If you choose it. But how far you walk along the path is always up to you.”

Something sat uncomfortably in Yvanne’s stomach. “Alright, fine. Can you at least answer me this?” she said wearily. “Where is my mother?”

The old woman cast her eyes down. “That I do not know. She never came here.”

An unspoken hope died in her chest. “My father, then? My sisters?”

“Three of your sisters live,” the old woman said. “In one way or another. But of all who I called, only you returned.”

All she did not say fell upon Yvanne like a mountain. She dropped her head. “I see.”

“Oh, my daughter. I am sorry.” She sounded like she meant it.

More questions sprung to her lips. When did my father die? And how? Which of her four sisters lived? And how? But as soon as they occurred to her, she thought better of them. She didn’t want to know. Of course she didn’t. If she’d wanted to know, she would have seen it in the Fade. It was a cruel thing to know about herself.

“Why me, then?”

“You are the one who answered.”

“No. Why call at all? My father never spoke of his home. We have nothing to do with each other, blood relatives or not. What do you want with me?”

“Is it so wrong for an old woman to wish to see her lost daughter?” The old woman’s eyes closed. She said no more for many long moments. “I apologize. I am tired now. I must walk in the Fade for a time.”

“What? But I’ve only just arrived!”

“We will speak again. For now you will go with Itai; he will be your companion today.”

“Now hold on, I—” Yvanne began to protest, but the old woman was already asleep, having slipped into dreams in the space of a few breaths. She was alone. But she did not feel alone. If anything she felt like an intruder. The tree keeping her great-grandmother alive thrummed steadily, like a heartbeat.

“Yvanne?”

She turned to face a young man with wide cheekbones and a halo of black curls. “How did you know my name? Or that I was here?”

He gave her a polite, puzzled smile. “Buya called me, of course. I’ve finished my training for today, so I can show you around.” He was younger than her. Was he even twenty? “I’m Itai—I think we might be cousins.” He crossed his right arm over his chest and tilted his chin down in greeting.

She stiffened. “Well, maybe we’re cousins, but you don’t know me, and I’m only staying here for as long as it takes me to get this—this problem under control, so don’t get too comfortable. There’s no need for all this…this…”

Itai shrugged. “Well, you’re going to have to wait at least a few hours anyway before she wakes up, so you might as well see the city, right?”

—

On her way to the great cypress, Yvanne had paid no attention to her surroundings at all. A compulsion to reach the tree where her ancestor dwelled had consumed her, and only now had it loosened its hold on her. Now she was finally seeing the city with clear eyes.

Dairsmuid was a city built upon the water. Wooden planks, shiny and smooth from the thousands of feet that walked upon them, were its streets, but so was the water; everywhere were gondoliers carrying goods by canoe, chatting with each other as they passed. Some of the buildings were built in the trees themselves, and what trees they were; they flared at their twisted, knotty bases. Some grew fused together, making masses large enough to support homes. Circling steps were bolted to many of them, and cables ran between the boughs, sending packages and messages zipping overhead.

Itai introduced Yvanne to more distant cousins and uncles and aunts than she could possibly keep track of, men and women of all ages. Each one greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a quick embrace, too swiftly and with too much assurance for her to protest.

And not a single one of them batted an eye at all the magic.

Magic didn’t seem to exactly be common in Dairsmuid, but every once in a while she would spot a shopkeeper levitating his wares, or a gondolier lighting a lantern with a snap of his fingers. Everywhere she saw spirits, mostly formless wisps, but larger, more distinct spirits, too. Children chased them like chickens, earning scoldings from their parents when they were caught. She watched, rapt, one group of mage children play a game of spark-shooting with each other. As she watched something cracked open deep inside her, and suddenly she wanted to cry.

“Alright, there?” said Itai. She snapped out of it, drawing her eyes away from a scene where one child chased a wisp right over the edge and into the water, where he was fished out by an irritated gondolier. She just barely managed to nod.

Itai kept rambling as he took her around, away from the center of the city—”Dairsmuid’s mostly on the water now, but old timers will tell you how the sea used to be much further out“—past rows of fishermen hauling in oysters and crayfish—”They’re best with lemon sauce,”—inland towards residential areas that were raised over mud and peat rather than standing water. They went past shrines to Andraste laid with offerings of fire-lilies—”What? Of course we worship Andraste! What a strange question,”—past spirit-lanterns nestled in the branches of the cypresses—”They’re always lit, so nobody falls off the platform. And if someone does, the spirits signal the night watchman to come over and fish them out…it’s usually just the drunks, though.”

Yvanne found herself liking Itai quite a lot. Until—

“And my Templar training isn’t so bad, usually, but master has us getting up so early, and usually at night I find myself thinking of so many things and unable to sleep—”

She stopped in her tracks. It took him a few seconds to notice, and he turned, puzzled.

“Your what training?”

“Templar training,” he repeated. “Are you alright? You look like you ate something curdled.”

“I didn’t realize Dairsmuid had Templars.” She did not try to keep the hiss out of her voice. Including my own family.

He stared at her, uncomprehending. “Sorry, I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

How in Thedas was she to respond to that? “So was that why they picked you to give me the tour? Were you supposed to keep an eye on me and cut me down in case I turned out to be dangerous after all? I knew I was right to be suspicious—”

“Hold on!” Itai was laughing. Actually laughing! “I think you’re confused. In Dairsmuid, Templar is a ceremonial role. We don’t take lyrium or anything like the westerners. I’m not even being taught to fight with this thing—” He tapped the ornate weapon belted to his hip. “It’s all just rituals and basic forms.”

“Then—” She stumbled. “Then what’s the point?”

He shrugged. “Tradition? Got to be a Circle at Dairsmuid, with Templars. So we have them. We’re supposed to keep the Seers safe, but the Seers don’t really need protection, so it’s pretty boring. Once I finish training, I’m probably going to be a fisherman like my da. Look, the sword’s ceremonial—it’s not even sharp.”

She must have still been staring. He smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I don’t really know much about western Circles.”

Maker, but this place was weird.

“I can’t believe the Chantry lets this place exist,” Yvanne said just as the silence was growing awkward..

“Well, Rivain’s pretty far from Orlais.” He shrugged. “We do things our own way. Really, the Qunari up north are a much bigger problem, but Dairsmuid’s not anywhere near Kont-Arr. Anyway, the Seers wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“Just what is a Seer? Exactly?”

Itai looked at her like she’d just asked the color of the sky. “Huh? But you’re a Seer. Aren’t you?”

She shook her head.

“You know—a woman who communes with the spirits. You call them mages out west, right?”

“But plenty of men are mages,” said Yvanne. “What do you do with the boys who are born with magic?”

Itai snorted, laughing.“Nobody’s born with magic. Spirits pick who they want to talk to. And sure, boys can talk to spirits, but they can’t be Seers.”

“Why not?”

“They just can’t.” He scratched his head. “Look, I don’t really know. Why don’t you ask Maita? She’s not a Seer yet, but she will be. Come on, you’ll like her. I have to get home and help da clean today’s catch, anyway, so I’ll leave you with her, if that’s alright.”

Three girls sat laughing and weaving reed baskets as Itai and Yvanne approached. One of them stood in anticipation, her eyes widening in delight. All three girls wore bright brass jewelry, but one—the Seer?—wore the most; bangles on her wrists and ankles, and a headdress of overlapping discs that glittered and clinked with her tiniest movement.

“Is this her?” she demanded of Itai, and didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, it is! Oh, welcome! We are also so glad you have come.” She jangled as she wrapped Yvanne in a tight, loud embrace. “Ambuya told us you had come.”

“But how—”

“Oh, but your hair!” Maita gasped. Never had Yvanne heard anyone sound so heartbroken over hair. She glanced over her shoulder to plead wordlessly with Itai, but he was already grinning, waving goodbye, and backing away, the traitor. “You poor thing, you must have been through so much.”

Yvanne suddenly became aware of her body, sharply and unpleasantly. She hadn’t looked at herself in so long that she had forgotten that others could still see her. Maker, she didn’t even want to think about how she probably smelled She self-consciously tucked a piece of it behind her ear. Unending months of neglect and salt had caused it to dread up into unsalvageable masses.

“You must let me fix it for you. Oh, I love to do braids, but–may I?” She reached out to touch Yvanne’s hair. She struggled not to flinch. “No, I don’t think there’s enough left to do braids. How about knots? Or twists? I do the best twists; ask anyone.” She turned to her two friends, clinking, for confirmation. Both nodded earnestly.

Nobody had done Yvanne’s hair since she was nine years old. Loriel had been useless at it and nobody else had come close to earning the right. “I—Okay.”

“Yes! Wonderful! Please, do come in. You must have some of my beads. I’m getting married soon, so I won’t get to wear them, and I don’t even have any sisters to give them to. Only brothers–it makes me so sad!”. Then an expression came over her face. “Wait! You aren’t married, are you? I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Yvanne felt the absence of the ring upon her finger, and answered, truthfully, “No, I’m not married.”

Maita’s animated expression returned. “Oh, good! Then you can have the beads. Come, come!”

She tugged her inside, enticing her friends to come join her in solving Yvanne’s hair problem. She was altogether reminded of Leliana. Yvanne slipped out of her grasp. “Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but—we’ve only just met.”

Maita gave her a confused smile. “But of course we’ve met. In the world beneath the world.”

Again that phrase.

“Maita, you’re shaming her,” one of the others said, rolling her eyes. “She has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,” Maita said, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, no, you really don’t, do you?”

If Yvanne had not spent the past years being humbled over and over again, she might have taken offense. As it was, she only shrugged.

Maita covered her face in shame. “I’m so sorry—I assumed, since you were training with Ambuya—we were all so jealous when we heard…”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m afraid I only look Rivaini. I’m not a part of any of this. I’m certainly not a Seer.”

“But you are a Seer,” Maita said encouragingly. “Or you will be.”

She crossed her arms, doubtful. “She said I was only beginning to learn. That I was already late.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll learn. You’re her blood, after all.”

“Isn’t half of Dairsmuid her blood? I’ve lost track of how many cousins I’ve met today.”

Maita laughed. She had a musical laugh. “Perhaps not so much as half! Our Buya had many sons, but even those who are not her blood are still her family; she is buya to all of us.”

Yvanne, who had been assuming that ‘Buya’ was the old woman’s name, made a small adjustment.

Dairsmuid had a public bathhouse, and she was in luck—today was the women’s day to use it. The next several hours went to matters of hair and beads and other things so trivial that Yvanne had nearly forgotten they existed. Was there really still a world of moisturizing hair cream and scents and jewelry? She had liked such things, once, because in the Circle they had been—if not forbidden, then strictly discouraged, and difficult to get a hold of. The habit had stayed with her as the Vigil’s keeper, and she had yet to be cured of it. It was so ridiculous. It was so nice.

Somewhere in this process she told the story of her travels. She hadn’t meant to—she’d thought it far too painful—but somehow it all came out. She started with hiding in Highever—she left out that she had ever been a Grey Warden—and by the time she got to the part with the pirates her hair was done. It had been long all her life, and was twisted close to her head and bound with bells and beads. She looked both like and unlike Isabela, like and unlike her old self. She had never felt so light; she couldn’t stop tilting her head back and forth and feeling the absence of the weight. It was strange, but not—bad. No, not bad at all.

By then it was time for the evening meal was upon them, and Maita’s mother—a stout woman who had clearly never taken no for an answer in her life—was insisting. Yvanne ate with Maita and her mother and her younger brothers who stared at her with curious eyes the size of dinner plates. Maita’s mother, it turned out, was not from Dairsmuid, but from a village on the eastern coast.

“—I came here to be with my girl, of course. She wanted to learn here in the capital, and I was not about to let her go alone,” she said proudly.

Yvanne slept there on a palette by the smouldering hearth, sick with imagining what it would be like to have a mother like that.

As the days passed and her great-grandmother did not summon her, she was folded into Maita’s family almost without noticing. Maita had three younger brothers who Yvanne somehow fell into the watching of—boys of six, ten, and twelve, who begged her to show them how to make lightning. She helped with the chores, kept the boys busy. She even learned a few words of the local Rivaini dialect. On the last day of the week, she helped decorate the household shrine to Andraste with marsh-lillies and necklaces of carved wooden beads. The prayers spoken over the shrine were not entirely unlike the Chant, but not entirely like it, either.

Finally came market day, so Yvanne saw the Dairsmuid market. Maita tugged her along as she did her family’s shopping, informing her of what fruits were in season and asking frequent questions about what things were like in Ferelden.

“Oh, I used to love the star-reader,” Maita sighed, pointing out a woman’s nondescript stall. “Of course, it is not Seeing, but that’s what made it special. My friends and I used to giggle for hours over the fates the stars had in store for us. The men we would marry, how many children we would have…” She trailed off, then finished cheerfully, “But I’ll be getting married soon.”

Yvanne could not help but notice that no husband-to-be was in evidence.

Maita clinked loudly as she laughed. “I haven’t met him yet, of course! He lives in a village far away from here, one that needs a Seer. Once I have passed the ritual, I’ll be ready to serve. I’m told he’s very kind. Is it bad that I hope he’s handsome, too?” She giggled behind her hand. “But you aren’t married! Do you want to consult the star-reader? Don’t you ever wonder what your husband will be like?

“Hm,” said Yvanne. “No, thank you.”

Soon after Maita encountered a friend of hers, and fell inextricably into an animated conversation that Yvanne couldn’t follow at all. Slighted, and resentful that she felt so, she wandered away. She could hear in the middle distance bell-like music. The source of it turned out to be a Vashoth woman sitting cross-legged, producing the tune from an instrument Yvanne had no name for, a wooden box lined with metal rods that produced unearthly music under the Vashoth’s careful fingers. Too soon, the song ended, and she lifted her hornless head to smile in thanks at the crowd.

Only then did Yvanne notice the scars around her lips.

“Did you mean to buy something?” the Vashoth asked suddenly. Yvanne forced herself not to stare.

“I have no money,” she stammered, then added, “Sorry.”

The saarebaas sized her up, and smiled. As she did, her scars instantly became the most noticeable thing about her. “Oh, I see. You’re new; one of Buya’s girls, aren’t you? I am called Amarna.”

“So I’m told,” Yvanne said stiffly

“You’re a bit old to start training.”

“I’ve had training.”

The saarebas laughed shrugging. “Mm. Well, it was probably better than the training I got.”

Yvanne’s eyes flicked to the woman’s scars again.

Amarna snorted good-naturedly. “Admiring these?” she said, touching her lips.

“I wasn’t—”

The former saarebas laughed. “Go ahead and look, I’m not ashamed.”

Yvanne wanted to apologize, but now she worried that it would only make it worse. Luckily the awkwardness was broken by a little Vashoth girl in pigtails, no more than eight years old, and already as high as Yvanne’s shoulder.

“Look what my friend showed me how to do!” the little girl said breathlessly to—presumably—her mother, ignoring Yvanne entirely. She extended her pudgy, little-girl hands palms up. Fireballs bloomed there, first, red, then yellow, then green and blue. Yvanne startled backwards and nearly knocked over a rack of fishing spears. “Are you proud of me?”

“Very good!” her mother beamed as Yvanne desperately tried to stabilize the rack of spears. “Indeed I am proud of you. But do you remember the rules?”

The girl let the fireballs dissipate. “No fire without my tutors watching,” she said ruefully, rolling her eyes.

“That’s right. Now go play.”

Only then did the little girl notice Yvanne and mutter a shy ‘hello’ before running off again.

“Sorry for her,” said the saarebas. “She’s always trying things she’s not quite ready for yet.”

“That…must be difficult.”

“I can’t even tell you how many times she’s hurt herself!” She shook her head. “But if she makes no mistakes, she’ll never learn.”

Yvanne had been that age when she’d first discover her magic. She never would have dreamed of showing her father. She’d hidden it. Had prayed for the Maker to take it away. “I’m surprised you don’t worry.”

“Of course I worry! What mother doesn’t? But she has good teachers here. I’ll never be much of a mage, but the Seers take care of her. And if she’ll receive some scars for her own foolishness, she will never have scars like mine.” She said it in well-rehearsed tones, like this was a speech she had been obliged to recite too many times.

Yvanne remembered Cheddar, and what had happened to her sarebaaset. But no, she daren’t ask. Instead she said, “What kind of instrument is that?”

And like so Maita found her some minutes later, profusely apologizing for leaving her alone, exchanging pleasantries with Amarna, and finally dragged her away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” she said in hushed tones. “I forget that most people outside Rivain aren’t used to the freed saarebas. Quite a lot of them live here.”

That night Yvanne could not get to sleep beneath the unfamiliar ceiling. She thought of Amarna’s little daughter whose magic would only ever earn her a gentle admonition, and envy rose in her gorge like poison. What she would have given to have grown up here in Dairsmuid. What might she have become if her father had brought her here instead of to Ferelden? Why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he loved her enough to bring her here? All those years in Kinloch, the wretched thing that place made her—

She thought of Amarna’s scars, and thought—yes, it could have been worse. But it could have been better, too.

Yes, she was here now, but what good did that do her? It didn’t make up for it. Nothing ever would. Dairsmuid was not her home. If she had ever had one, it had been Vigil’s Keep.

That home was lost to her. Perhaps did not exist at all. Just like her mother and her father and her sisters. Everything was lost, lost—all that remained was here. A wave of nauseous longing rolled over her like the evening tide, and she went to sleep no less conflicted and confused.

—

She dreamt again of Loriel, buried deep within her tower of stone. Her hair was longer now than it had ever been, neatly parted in the center. Somehow in their time apart it had stopped frizzing, and fell to her back in elegant feathers. Were there new lines on her face? How old was she now?

She was writing busily in a blank parchment manuscript, occasionally consulting a tome at her elbow. She scribbled for hours, only occasionally pausing to sip water or stand up to stretch. All these little gestures, so familiar, so utterly strange.

Who was she? Who was she?

“I never even knew you, did I?” Yvanne said to her, knowing she wouldn’t be heard. “Not that you were any better. You never knew me either, did you? I don’t think I ever felt more alone than when I was with you.”

And Loriel kept scratching away, oblivious. It was starting to make her angry.

“You know,” she said, “If it hadn’t been for all that fucking blood magic, maybe you could have heard me say all these things. Maybe you could have heard me at all. I was too much a coward to say what I meant to your face, and now you’ll never know how I really felt. You selfish fucking bitch.”

And then—

—Loriel looked up.

Her forehead wrinkled in that burningly familiar way. Her mouth began to form the shape of the word, who—?

The dream collapsed.

—

Yvaanne woke in the middle of the night, knowing that she was summoned to Dairsmuid’s great tree. She received no message; only a conviction that she was wanted, and an intuitive understanding of where to go. She walked there, barefoot, the ancient half-drowned forest singing all around her.

Buya was exactly where she had been, awake and bright eyed. “I am sorry to have woken you. Did I interrupt your dreaming?”

She shook her head. “I did not want that dream.”

“I see.” The old woman’s lips still did not move when she spoke. “Have you decided, then, if you will stay and learn from me?”

“I…”

A heaviness lay on her heart. After a week in Dairsmuid, she had never missed the Vigil more. She missed her high grey walls, her fluttering banners, the smell of smelting iron in the air. She missed the training, the drinking games, the knowledge that everyone around her knew her name, that people would care if she was gone.

But here in Dairsmuid, everyone somehow knew her name. They would care if she was gone. So they didn’t know her, so what? Nobody had ever known her.

Dairsmuid was here. Dairsmuid was now. And was love not born of base familiarity? Was love anything besides mere exposure, mere proximity?

“Great-grandmother, I want to stay,” she said. “But…”

Ambuya waited, patient.

“But there’s someone I still love. Far from here.”

“Ah,” the old woman said. “I see. I will not pretend I am not disappointed, but it was good to lay my mortal eyes on you, my daughter.”

Yvanne shook her head, and knelt. Then she looked up, her eyes streaming. “And I never want to see or think about her, ever again. Please, grandmother—I am yours. Please, teach me.”

Ambuya smiled, reached out, and placed a hand on Yvanne’s bowed head. She was resolved; she would become a part of this. She would be one of many, and she would make this life a good one if it killed her.

#dragon age #amell #surana #femslash #rivain #dairsmuid #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

bossuary · 5 years ago

Text

Having just finished Tevinter Nights, I have un fucktonne of questions and theories. But, below are a few of the subjects/problems that I can’t stop thinking about. I’m curious how other people interpret them, or if I’ve missed some critical details, because it seems like there’s some retconning going on.

so, spoiler warnings apply, since i’m about to discuss the Big Doings below the cut.

The most immediately relevant items come from the final story, right? BUT, because of the nature of the characters, I sort of assumed that much of “The Dread Wolf Take You” is a study in unreliable narrators. Can any of the tales be believed after Charter exposes the Bard? Do we move forward assuming the puzzle pieces we’re trying to fit together are the correct ones, or tread carefully on the word of a known liar?

Nothing about the Assassin’s Tale fits the facts we know:

Meredith’s corpse didn’t actually stay in the middle of the square in uptown Kirkwall. Her remains were taken away to The Black Emporium. (iirc, Varric mentions this in one of the recent comics)

Pieces of her sword (Certainty) were re-forged for Samson to use in service of Corypheus, a sword which eventually passes to the Inquisition.

A shard of the idol continues to exist outside of Meredith’s remains, or her re-forged blade. Depending on worldstates, the shard is either a weapon rune--forged by Sandal and given to Hawke--or it was given to Varric (who then gave it to Bianca to study, I think).

In the comics, and in a few of the short stories, the fiasco of Fen’Harel’s agent losing the red lyrium “item” is cleverly handled from a lore-continuity perspective. It’s only ever referred to as a “weapon,” which could mean a lot of things, and allows for greater freedom in describing it in later media. Until the Assassin’s Tale, I firmly believed they were talking about Certainty. Now we’re supposed to believe it’s been the magically re-formed Primeval Idol this whole time, freshly revealed (by the equally untrustworthy Mortalitasi) as a go-go-Gadget ritual blade.

So, are the Tales a cheeky narrative lie, or is it all lore retcon? If it’s a retcon... -What ritual could the blade have originally served? -Might it actually be a key, as lots of people have theorized? -Is there really a potion that can melt lyrium? -Does Solas actually have the idol now, or was his entire story a lie to cover the truth that he still hasn’t found it?

Also, uh. . .Can Solas just. . .kill people while they sleep/dream, even dwarves? I mean, he has demonstrated the ability to create a “dreamlike” state for a dwarf Inquisitor. But, this power seems OP, even for him, and narrative reach. Possibly it’s further evidence that nothing in “The Dread Wolf Take You” can be trusted. 1. If the plans for the Fade are already underway, what does this mean for people like Evangeline, Anders, Grandin, and Sigrid, who’re possessed by spirits/demons? It’s possible they’ll be forcibly separated. Those (like Evangeline) who’re only alive because of their spirit, will likely die. Without Justice, Anders might finally succumb to the taint.

There are probably thousands of people across Rivain and Seheron, and among the Avvar and the Dalish, who’re contentedly hosting spirits. Would these spirits allow their mortal hosts to be harmed by Solas? Or could there be resistance to his plan from the Fade side of things?

Lots of the stories in Tevinter Nights include the theme of outliers breaking ranks from within a seemingly monolithic society: the Ben Hassrath don’t support the Antaam in their campaign, the Venatori and their supporters operate in defiance of Tevinter, the Crows had one of their Talons disrupt a centuries-old pact.

Going forward in the next game, we might see a spirit faction that, for any number of reasons, acts against The Dread Wolf’s plan to sunder the Veil.

2. Why does everyone in this book describe the red lyrium idol as having only two figures, when every depiction of it that we’ve seen clearly shows three? The crowned figure is (if Solas is to be believed) comforting one person, but no mention of the other poor soul, an even more skeletal figure who seems to be missing their left forearm, and is stuck on the other side of the large ring. No love for that dingus, I guess. Very curious.

And no mention of the serpentine shape that surrounds all three of them.

3. The sea is going to be a big part of the next stage of this story.

-Mythal’s origin has her emerging from the sea. -In “Luck in the Gardens, the 8 Venatori who were tasked with keeping the “formless” monster in its sealed prison each wore a clay amulet depicting a thin four-winged dragon rising above a sea. -“The Horror of Hormak” describes the viscous gray transformation fluid (and the monsters it creates) as stinking of brine. -The Mortalitasi’s Tale includes a reference to The Dread Wolf screaming about the Sea of Dreams. -The Executors appear to be stepping into the action, finally. They are known as ‘those across the sea.’ -Among the murals discovered during Trespasser, there are some that include imagery of flowing water: The Death of a Titan, and Lifting the Vallaslin -Before ascending to godhood, Ghilain’nain killed all of her creations. . .except the giant monsters in the deepest waters. Lore says “Pride stopped her hand,” which could mean that she spared them because she was too proud of how perfectly-made they were. Or, that an aspect of Pride (as a demon or spirit), convinced her to let them live.

4. I’ve always thought that the painted murals of Trespasser and those completed at Skyhold are actually of a different sort, in a very specific way. Much of the ornamentation, symbology, and iconography that’s used in the various frescoes in Trespasser. . .isn’t found in Skyhold’s frescoes. My feeling, based on these differences in style, and the uneven quality of the paintings in the Vir’Dirthara, is that the murals in Trespasser have been painted-over.

-Thanks to Gatsi, we know that the mosaics we worked so hard to complete for the Inquisition were all re-carved by several hands over the ages, making it difficult to get an accurate interpretation from them.

-During “The Horror of Hormak,” Ramesh and Lesha encounter mosaics depicting elven kings and queens, and their subjects. But the mosaics shift and change the longer they stare at them. The scenes transform from a glittering parade of nobility offering succor to their subjects. . .to a death-march of tyrants forcing magical torments on their slaves.

-In “Genitivi Dies in the End,” our industrious well-traveled Brother is humbled when he discovers an elven tome that depicts the continent of Thedas in superior and, crushingly, more correct detail to anything he’s ever seen. Which means that either the continent has changed dramatically, or all the maps that exist in modernity are based upon a flawed (altered) source.

There’s an established trope of people from all parts of Thedas altering relics in order to change history’s interpretation of them. So, why would the frescoes/murals be any different? I believe that either Solas, or someone loyal to Solas, altered the murals in order to obscure the truth behind them.

If we believe Philliam, a Bard! (though, again, an unreliable narrator), the Qunari Rasaan disbelieves all of the names attributed to Solas, either by his enemies or himself. As Philliam posits, to know Solas’ true name would be know the best and worst of him, his flaws and weaknesses, and what he’d “failed to be.”

Essentially, I think we’re being misled at every turn. And this leads me to. . .

5. None of the stories in Tevinter Nights expands on the role of dwarves in past and future conflicts. We get lots of new and juicy stuff on Tevinter, Nevarra, mages, elves, the Crows, the Lords of Fortune, even the Qunari. Noticeably and glaringly absent is any mention of dwarves, titans, and how they fit into the unfolding lore.

One of the largest and most influential groups of dwarves in all of Thedas (The Ambassadoria) lives right in the heart of Minrathous. Above ground. Vulnerable to the invading Qunari and Fen’Harel’s agents.

Dwarves are as tellingly absent in this set of stories as dragons were in all the Evanuris revelations.

The one place where those two things intersect. . .is out in the Hissing Wastes, near the Sunstop mountains (which has always sounded to me like the same naming convention as Skyhold).

Out there, we come across a dwarven thaig, the only thaig to have been built above ground, that pre-dates the first Blight. It’s called Kal Repartha, which means ‘a place where we may meet in peace.’ Paragon Fairel and his sons appear to have built the thaig as a way to escape some huge conflict in the Deep Roads.

Statues of Mythal’s dragon form are arranged in places of honor outside Fairel’s tomb. As if in protection.

Fairel was a rune-smith, one of the greatest who ever lived. Mythal might have worked with Fairel toward some common goal, relying on his skills to make devastating weapons, runic keys for hidden places, or repositories of knowledge best kept secret. She might have protected Fairel as a respected friend and ally.

Reaching a little deeper, Mythal may have helped separate the ancient dwarves from the hivemind control of the titans, freeing them to create their own vibrant society, far from the “witless, soulless” existence they lived as drone-like workers.

(As an interesting aside, Fairel wrote about dragons, proving that dragons, dwarves, and the Evanuris existed at the same time)

It just seems like the root of this unfolding elven lore is the Titans themselves, the life they created in the dwarves and the tangible world, the innate power of their blood, and the knowledge that was stolen from them. Why don’t dwarves feature more heavily in the anthology?

That’s it. That’s my tinfoil haberdashery at the moment. Thoughts? Corrections?

#dragon age #tevinter nights spoilers #tevinter nights #dragon age meta #DAMN #long post

14 notes · View notes

thankyougotham · 5 years ago

Photo

Here’s an article that Film Daily wrote about Nygmobblepot. If you’d like to see them write articles about other relationships, you can contact them on Twitter and make a request. They’ve been very supportive of Gotham in general, so follow them if you’re on Twitter.

“Gotham is an innovative show based on DC Comics characters and produced by Warner Bros. The Batman origin narrative helped us rapt viewers understand how our favorite heroes (Batman) and villains (The Joker, Penguin) came to be. It also cast a light on just how Gotham City became the wretched crime-filled cesspool we all know & love.

As the fandom knows, we’re so behind the mission to Save Gothamthat it hurts, but today we’ve decided to take a break from all the activism and talk about love. Here’s why we and the Gotham fandom ship hard for Nygmobblepot, and why these fantastic felons are anyone’s perfect gateway into Gotham for people on the fence about the show.”

Sample Quotes from fans:

Mr. Millicent Cordelia

Both Ed & Oswald were transformed by love. They made sacrifices for each other & always ended up back together. They deserve, and the fans deserve to see this relationship respected as a romance on a server that understands it’s the 21st century.

Merc

Honestly because they’re both idiots and they really deserve each other.

Zoe Tomorrow

They’re two individuals who’ve spent their lives mistreated and misunderstood. They are the only ones who accept one another wholeheartedly. Together they’ve learned about trust, sacrifice, forgiveness, and love. And no matter what they always find a way back to each other.

#PenguinSpinOff

Excellent chemistry between them, and a fun, fresh take on these old, iconic characters. They’re like peanut butter and jelly: fine on their own, but especially delightful together.

Rachel

For one, they “really are meant for each other”! They’ve been through so much and have hurt each other so many times but they’ve managed to overcome it. They have a strong bond, would do anything for each other, and somehow they always come back together!

𝕫𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒

These two men grew up misunderstood and overlooked, and learned to use that to grow. they have risen together, and make an excellent team. they have both admitted to being stronger together, and their fates always become intertwined. they’re destined to be together.

Angela

While I’m not the biggest shipper of Nygmobblepot, I do care for their happiness and for the fans who do ship them. My ship is Batcat. They are best friends as kids & love each other deeply. They always want to protect each other. They are family.

LongLiveGotham #Gotham | #SaveGotham

Nygmobblepot has a long, complex history that reveals both the best and worst of these 2 characters. They have grown and learned much from the relationship. They deserve to be on a server that allows them the freedom to be a romantic couple.

Jenny i love my girlfriend

they are two men who have been abused and undermined their entire lives, but see each other as equals. they have certainly had their ups and down, but they always come back, better and stronger than ever. they understand each other more than anyone else ever has.

(not to mention how groundbreaking it would be to have two characters who have been historically heterosexual be in a romantic relationship)

Hale | 45 Days Till Neo

I’m down for anything with dear Oswald- his chaotic energy is a joy to watch, especially when it’s messing with other character such as Edward and Jim.

Scheming Minor

I am going to say something different in lieu of semantics. Technically in a sense when you get to the details they really are one of the few villain pairings portrayed in a “healthy” relationship in the Batman fandom. They progress, accept and move on; never stagnating. I included the healthy relationship chart to prove a point. Each one of those slices can be seen over the course of Riddler and Penguin’s relationship in Gotham– more so when we reach season 5. Their entire journey is about respect. Adding one more thing – Riddler has traditionally been coded as queer and flits with tentative bisexuality, meanwhile Penguin is known as a womanizer but has rare moments of ’what if’ regarding men. Gothamis one of the few Batman shows that follows through with M/M content.

kebu loves Oswald

They are both extreme individuals, but they fit together perfectly. Both are complex characters that went through life unaccepted by everyone which shaped their desire for more and their paths to becoming supervillains, so when they met it was the first time they found their equal and were accepted by someone. Their paths have been intertwined ever since, and whether they’re together or at odds, they’re always the most significant person in each other’s lives. But even though they ended up appearing together, we didn’t actually see them get “officially” together. Their story has yet to come to a close.

Riz || Professional Mr.Penn promoter

A very complex relationship that cannot be concluded in a spawn of a cut off season like it was. They have had a long journey and a perhaps even longer one before them. Their lowest and best have been shared together and they’re the one person who understand the other fully.

M/M relationships in media and tvshows especially is a rare breed. Even more is the concept of the big chance to make two comic characters and made an entirely new spin on them by being brave enough to make them queer, Oswald perhaps within the asexual spectrum at that. Ed as a tormented, abused soul who struggles with his own identiy and perhaps sexuality.

There is really so much to say, which is exactly why there need to be more to tell the rest of the story.

Vero

While Ed fights with the dichotomy within himself, he’s always felt the most whole when he’s been all-encompassed by Oswald’s world and care. Oswald found compassion and acceptance for all the parts that Ed thought were not loved. They are twin souls that deserve a longer story.There’s always been a complexity to both of them, and they understand the extremes that have made them into the people they are. There is no desire to change the other, only bring out the best in one another and a comfort shared that’s so important.

madi

I feel as though they have stories that extend beyond what Gothamwas able to show through their 5 seasons. Especially with the 5th season being half of its normal length. They mean so much to me, and so many others, and I would love to see even more of them (1/2)

(2/2) and to be able to see Gotham’s depiction of Ed’s backstory, an explanation for the whole Isabella fiasco (like how is she even possible) and a plot line where Ed saves Oswald. We haven’t had any of those since s2/early s3 and I need that in my life. I miss them so much.

Evan

Not only off the charts chemistry, but near similar backgrounds also. Both Ed & Oswald were abandoned by their parents, and had to fight the world their whole lives. Then brought them together and they’ve been unstoppable ever since.

Suzy Dakroub

Because they have the best character development and bond I’ve ever seen on a show! They both truly have no one but eachother. For villains where it’s rare to see compassion and love, these two have it for each other and it’s so wholesome and sweet.

Frothy

it’s the first LGBT representation in such a major franchise on TV! it was taken from us once, twice, but there won’t be a third. i will produce season 6 in my basement with tze and my best friend if i must

Warrior_Of_Loyalty

REPRESENTATION!!! Seriously, there’s nothing quite like it. Oswald and Edward deserve a wedding and a musical episode to go with it. Because, if Arthur’s teacher can get married on TV why not The Penguin and The Riddler!? Please!! Make it happen!

𝕻𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 ||

Because they are two characters who have been physically and emotionally abused most of their lives, and even after all of their hardships and turmoil, found love and trust and safety in one another

Azura Lynn Paulin

Because they never got to become a real couple on screen and they deserve to have that chance at happiness

MamaDev

Their chemistry, specifically between Robin Lord Taylor & Cory Michael Smith, is incredibly entertaining and heart warming to watch. It makes my whole day, of not, week better when I see them interacting on screen. FOX did not do them justice by keeping them in the closet.

Queen C

Because their story is FAR from over. Cory and Robin’s skills and chemistry shouldn’t be squandered. We had 5 years of their story buildup and got crapped on in the final episode, and I deserve my #BisexualRiddler!!!

Bandi [Gotham/Good Omens Spoilers] #SaveGotham

Nygmobblepot truly is such an interesting ship. As singular characters they are great, but together, they shine. They’re complex, damaged characters and take comfort in each other. Their journey is a long, painful one, but they deserve and compliment each other. It makes sense.

Anders

They are truly self confident with each other, anything becomes possible. They don’t need any cane.

They have each other.

Mae

they just have such strong chemistry and are so much better together than apart. their relationship constantly evolved throughout Gotham, becoming the main driving force for their individual developments too and… they were just made for each other okay

Tam Loves Kris @ Resting in Home

I see a lot of myself and my partner@MisterPenguinin the#Nygmobblepotship and I feel that their relationship is very well developed with lots of ups and downs and it’s fate that they are both meant for each other.

Kat Shade

With all of the characters that had amazing chemistry on Gotham, the main three had to be nygmobblepot, wayleska, and babitha. Nygmobblepot have been through so much together, and besides how revolutionary and amazing it would be for a show based on two previously heterosexual characters in a homosexual relationship, they simply work amazingly together.

#Gotham #nygmobblepot #Film Daily

83 notes · View notes