#believe in the heart of the cards Rook

[mel-0n-earth]

Emmrich’s new outfit is so Yugi Mutou coded change my mind.

[housederiva]

Here's every version of the letter the Inquisitor gets from their LI plus Varric (which didn't make me cry at all)

If your Inky didn't romance anyone:

Inquisitor, Greetings from miserable, rainy Minrathous! (Don't tell Dorian I called it that.) The rotten weather here is making me nostalgic for Skyhold. The mountains were freezing, but at least the air didn't smell like wet garbage. We'll have to get in another game of Wicked Grace, soon. Harding picked up the trail again. I'd tell you not to worry, but I know how useless that is. Instead, I'll just say: I've got a great team on this. Neve could stare down the Maker, and wait until you meet Rook. He's/She's/They're a natural: Smart, resourceful, completely unpredictable. You'd like him/her/them, as long as you don't try to beat him/her/them at cards. Chuckles'll never know what hit him. I'll write again once we have something solid for you. Drinks at the Hanged Man are on me when this is over. Take care of yourself. Varric

Blackwall:

My love, You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side. Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations. Yours always, Thom

Cassandra:

My love, We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe. The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can. The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray. Yours, Cassandra

Cullen:

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences chewed to read. I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible. I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you are all right. You are I've There's I wish I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life. The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my - I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this - Whatever you need of me, I am yours. Cullen

Dorian:

Amatus, I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear. I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you. I will find you soon. Yours, Dorian

Iron Bull

Hey, Kadan, Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!) I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian. Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to just be what I want to be. And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you. So come back safe. Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

Josephine:

My Dearest Lord/Lady, I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all. The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together. There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here. When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes. Always yours, Josephine Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

Sera:

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.) Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.") - North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker. - Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know. - We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow. - So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls! - We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.) - Still thinking of you sideways. - Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.) - The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out. - Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me. - I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why. - Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.) - You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on. (The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.) New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

Solas:

Vhenan, I do not know if you will see these words. My ritual is ready and will soon be set in motion. Perhaps when you read this the world will be as it once was, and you will see why all I did was necessary. I cannot ask your forgiveness, but I hope you come to understand. That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin... you do not know how close I came to breaking. I could have shared the truth, or even put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas... as I wanted. I regret the pain I caused you. What I feel for you will never change. The note is unsigned, but the handwriting is Solas'.

[some-lost-fox]

Saw Ivan!Azul again today (alien stage) and got an idea - Would the boys ask for a permission for kiss? And mini stories to them~

Triggers: Ooc, smooching, grammar issues (cause I started to write this at 7am with 4hs of sleep, and continued with brain error of Rook's bday card...), can get a bit angsty (looks at Leona)

"Would they ask for consent to kiss you?"

Riddle Rosehearts

- Look at him, and what do you think.

- Of COURSE he would ask.

- Pretty sure there are even rules about that in place.

- So, let's go with "Kisses are allowed" in Heartslabyul

- Riddle would be so incredibly polite about it, just as the rules say you should be ("you must always ask for permission!")

- When he asks, he is so flustured, his grayish eyes uncertain of what you will say - but he will respect your decision.

- The second you give him permission, his eyes light up, potentially even rivaling the stars themselves.

- He has the softest smile you have ever seen, on him, on anyone!

- The kiss is sweet, perhaps maybe a bit too short for your liking. His flushed face is so incredibly worth seeing tho.

- Sadly, Queen's rules are simple - one kiss per day! (Oh you can see Riddle being so upset and gazing at your lips for reminder of the day...)

- After a week, he sadly turns into a little rule breaker... He can't help himself...

- If kisses are illegal, you have Riddle gazing on you, his eyes so often looking at your lips.

- Oh he wants to kiss you, but... Rules! He is a housewarden, he has to listen!!

- It gets so bad that nearly everyone can see it! (And then there's you, being blind.)

- Actually, it's so bad that poor Riddle even hears "Just break rules Goldfishie~" in library, but he always fails to find the oversized mer who's voice he is hearing (seriously, where is he?!)

- Eventually, Riddle gives in, and asks you, breaking the rules!

- The kiss becomes your favorite memory, and Riddle tries to keep it a secret (stealing kisses when... "noone" is looking)

- Eventually, he gives up, and decides to make a special day in which the rule gets lifted! That day, you get a lot of kisses (if you allow.)

👑👑👑

Leona Kingscholar

- I think, Leona, as much as he wants to be cool, he knows consent is sexy.

- The issue is - It's Leona.

- You think he will actually ask? No.

- He will look at you, wanting to kiss you so badly.

- But why should he. What's the point? You are probably already dating someone else. If not, you are smitten by someone else.

- This time, it's not you who's blind. This giant cat is too wrapped in his own self-doubt.

- He was resting on your lap and you were gently playing with his hair. Watching his ears occasionally flicker. It was adorable to see his ears act like that...

- Without knowing, your hands ended up playing with his ears.

- "Cut it off Herbivore." He complained, looking up at you. That smile of yours was... so.... precious. He adored it. So much.

- Not like he would say it.

- "What's on your mind?" You asked him, noticing of how his eyes weren't looking into yours, but rather... at your lips.

- "... Nothing." He said closing his eyes. Not wanting to see that smile that melted his heart.

- "Do it." You said, voice confident. You believed you knew what the lion wanted.

- And you were probably right as his eyes snapped wide open. A breathless "What?" escaped his lips.

- You didn't say anything, just gave him an encouraging smile.

- Leona's ears flickered once again. He was quiet. His eyes staring into yours. Trying to find a lie, deceit.

- Instead he saw you looking at him with so much love.

- "Fine. Can I kiss you, Herbivore?"

- You barely started to nod, when you felt his lips against yours. It was passionate... but you felt all his love and adoration poured into that kiss.

- Wait, how did you end up on your back....?!

🦁🦁🦁

Azul Ashengrotto

- He is a loser (/affectionate.)

- Azul will NOT ask you. Because he can't.

- But he will look at you like a high-school girl with a crush.

- The Tweels are absolutely jabbing into him because of that.

- Jade noticed first, and he didn't even need to tell Floyd, the other eel noticed it as well. That's how obvious it was.

- Azul wanted to maintain his professionalism. (And he was too scared)

- "You like Azul as well, do you not?" Jade asked you, causing you to nearly spill your drink.

- "How do you--" All of Jade's response was a: :)

- So, after having another nice dinner with Azul (like many....) you had to do something about this stupid octopus.

- "Can I kiss you?" You asked him, and boy, he very quickly turned red. (You understood in that moment why tweels wanted to eat him.... He was so... cute.)

- Azul was too stunned to speak, but he nodded.

- You pressed your lips against his, for a quick kiss. Soft, sweet, but clearly not enough. You pull away, and Azul looks at you, flustured, trying to fix his glasses (cover his face)

- He looked at you, and still with a blushing face, he asked: "Can I kiss you back?"

- You allowed him, the next kisses were all way longer, and softer...

- Needless to say, Azul was kissed stupid...

🐙🐙🐙

Kalim Al-Asim

- This sweetie?... Yesn't.

- At first it starts innocent, Kalim holding your hand...

- ...Kalim hugging you out of blue... (and absolutely not noticing that small flinch)

- And next thing you know, his face is close, giving you kiss on cheek. Sometimes on forehead. Sometimes on nose.

- Did he ever ask? No, he just does it, your face turns red each time, but his bright smile is so blinding that you can't stop him.

- Jamil is NOT impressed. (You do occasionally see him shake his head...)

- But, you adore Kalim. And his smile. And his eyes. And, everything.

- So one evening, it's just you and Kalim. You don't even notice, and he is so close, looking into your eyes.

- "Can I kiss you?" "But you do it all the time." "Can I make it... special this time?"

- You chuckle, and nod, Kalim happily kisses you, finally on lips. It's soft, sweet. The embodiment of sunshine looks at you. "Can I do it again?"

- You just nod, as he showers you in kisses, and of course, you return it.

- If someone saw you two... they would get diabetes

☀️☀️☀️

Vil Schoenheit

- He could! He would!

- But he won't.

- Why? Oh he knows.

- You are not really subtle about your gaze. Or well, you try to, but Vil knows too well. He is used to be centre of attention, having people's eyes on him.

- But yours? Yours is special. He loves that you (out of everyone) are paying attention to him

- You are special to him, in all ways. And he knows he special to you too. (That soft tone you have for him? He knows.)

- Also having Rook is unfair, as Rook also snitches on you in his poetic words...

- So if you are hoping, for him to ask if HE can kiss you, it's not happening.

- Which brings you to your current situation - you are sitting on Vil's magnificently soft bed (Oh how life is unfair... You would KILL for that sort of bed in Ramshackle...) and just... watching prepare himself.

- Vil sighs, and looks at you. "If you want something, then you should learn to ask for it."

- Your mouth opened, responding on it's own: "Then can I kiss you?"

- Vil smirks, and you are horrified. The most beautiful housewarden makes his towards you, "you may."

- Well... Let's say you ruined his lipstick. His was now yours too...!

- Oh, and you also got the softest bed to sleep on~

🦚🦚🦚

Idia Shourd

- This man's courage is in negative numbers.

- So, irl? Nah. He will not ask, forget it

- Online? Ehh, maybe (I doubt)

- Now you were in his room, watching him play some sort of game. The two of you talked for a while before he started focusing more on a game...

- Eventually, he would stop responding to you, or rather, stop listening... Which caused a playful and very mischievous smile to appear on your lips. "Hey, Idia?" "What?" you took a deep breath, and asked a simple question: "Can I kiss you?"

- "Sure," he didn't realize what he agreed to, so you gently pressed your lips against his cheek. Idia after that clearly snapped back into reality (and on his screen appeared 'Defeat')

- In three seconds, his hair went pink, and blush was visible on his face that he tried to hide. You just gently placed your own hands on his.

- "...Again?" he asked, barely getting it out of himself. You gave him a kiss... and another... and another...

- Sadly, in the end, you were turned into a cuddle buddy... Actually, is that bad?

- If you fell asleep before Idia, he returned those kisses (on your cheek... nose... forehead... just not on your mouth.)

- In the morning, you saw a message 'can i kiss u?' on your phone from him. You chuckled as he was on his phone, sitting on his chair. You responded with a thumbs-up, and that's when he kissed you, for real, this time!

🔥🔥🔥

Malleus Draconia

- That question appears in his mind WAY TOO OFTEN!!

- When your face shines with happiness when you look at him with eyes filled with curiosity about Briar Valley... Or when you are explaining to him things

- He finds you so amazing, in his eyes. But each time, he is about to ask it, he stops himself, not wanting to ruin the friendship that's between the two of you.

- It takes Lilia's encouragement for Malleus to lock in...

- So you and Malleus were in the library, the moon already in the sky, but neither of you rushed. There were no morning classes!

- And what were you two doing? You were Malleus's number 1 assistant in Gargoyle Crafting!

- You have no clue how, but your Gargoyle crafting ended up in a small dance (in which you struggled, and the pretty dragon fae said he would teach you personally...) and now the faces of you two were so... close...

- Your heart was beating so fast... You could feel your cheeks practically burn. His green eyes staring into yours... "Can I kiss you?"

- You noticed his cheeks turn slightly red, as you nodded. Then you closed your eyes... and felt his soft lips against yours.

- Poor Gargoyle remained unfinished, as you two ended up getting distracted with kisses.

- The next day, you just heard a loud an extremely loud gasp - as you and Malleus happened to hold hands when Sebek saw you.... Don't tell him how many times you two kissed in a single day....

🐲🐲🐲

[hisui-dreamer]

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge

Notes: pick your fav from above when you read this hehe

Masterlist

imagine transmigrating as yuu in twisted wonderland, waking up in your favourite game with the fictional love of your life standing, breathing, alive right in front of you, not so fictional anymore.

every day is like a new adventure, you try your hardest to get his attention, trying to woo him in any way possible, striking up conversation, joining him in his hobbies, or just simply staring at him in fondness from across the room.

he's flattered, immensely, but it's also slightly overwhelming for him. it's not every day someone you barely know puts so much attention on you. he can't quite understand it, you don't give him a very good reason why you'd have such feelings for him, and of course, he wouldn't know how hearing his voice in the morning would give you the energy to make it through the day, how you emptied your wallets just so you could have his cards, how you longed to feel warmth in his arms in those lonesome moments. you don't expect him to understand your intense admiration for him, but it still pricks your heart when he puts up barriers between the two of you, when he turns down your advances or turns away from you.

still, you persist in your efforts. your feelings for him would never change, but you do try toning your advances down. you keep your fangirling more hidden, putting up polite smiles and nods when you pass by him in hallways, even though your heart would be thumping so loudly you almost couldn't hear him.

slowly, but surely, he starts seeing you as a friend, and maybe even something more. there's something irresistible about someone who always stands by your side, whether or not his actions were right or not, you'd be there to offer him support, cheering him on in whatever his goals were.

he decided you were growing on him, but he still couldn't fully trust you.

but then came the overblot battle. you knew it would happen, you tried to stop things from going out of hand but there's very little a magicless prefect can do to stop teenage boys from provoking each other until someone's untapped trauma gets unleashed. it's different than the games, it's not just tapping characters on a screen to fight, you're standing there next to everyone, next to him, feeling the overblot air weighing down on your body, the overblots attacks are unpredictable and you keep having to dodge at the last minute.

and when you see an attack going towards him, you don't even think about yourself, your body moving on its own to shield him from the incoming blow because you want nothing more than for him to be safe.

you feel the sharp pain in your head, you feel yourself falling, then cradled by strong arms. the pain is mind-splitting, and you barely manage to open your eyes to see if he's injured

his pupils are dilated, worry written all over his face, but he seems unscathed

"you're okay..."

you find some comfort in that fact, and everything fades to black

he can't believe he even doubted you for a second. how could he not realise you were genuinely attracted to him? to the extent that you, defenceless and inexperienced in magic, would shield him from the attack?

when the overblot ends, he takes you to the infirmary as soon as possible. he nurses you, visits you every day, bringing you flowers and such hoping you'd recover soon. he promises himself he'd be truthful this time, he'd treasure you and be there for you just like you were for him.

he never expects the words that come out of your mouth when you wake up.

"...who are you?"

you had forgotten the one person who was the object of your affection.

[merakiui]

What do you think of savanaclaw rook? I'm very curious about your thoughts about him 👉👈

ꉂ(°□°˶ )

?!?!?!?! TRULY??????? AM I DREAMING??!?!?! omg what a vision,,,,, why would Vil fix him….. T^T he’s perfect……….. the unkempt, fluffy hair, dirt and sweat, ARMS???!!?!?!!!! THE MUSCLES……… his hat!!!!!!! AND ARE THOSE FRECKLES????? DOTH MINE EYES DECEIVE ME!!!!!!

orz uuuwaaa what a fabulous card. I can’t believe Vil took one look at his ruggedness and domesticated him. OTL oh, to be railed raw and messy in Savanaclaw by a Rook who operates under the dorm’s motto. Oh, to be a beastman who thinks they’re strong enough to fend anyone off, but it’s a different story during your heat……… he was probably even more unhinged in his Savanaclaw era than he is now. I just know it in my heart. \(//∇//)\

[vigilskeep]

I’ve seen lots of speculation about how Caterina might feel about a relationship between Rook and Lucanis, some people think she wouldn’t approve and some think that she would have no reason not to considering Rook saved both the world and her favourite grandson. I’m curious if you have any thoughts about it?

Personally I think Caterina would see any romantic partner Lucanis might have as a threat to the control she has over him, but idk if she would ever be outright hostile to Rook. But I haven’t actually read The Wigmaker Job yet so I could be missing some nuance there

i got a couple asks about this. it’s honestly hard to say with any confidence. caterina’s characterisation is so limited, and different rooks and different ideas of what post-canon rookanis looks like are so varied. it kind of is whatever you make of it

i think it’s uninteresting to caricaturise caterina as like a cackling villain who just wants lucanis under her power. imo she does believe, very much, that she has his best interests at heart. i also believe there’s nothing she is not willing to do for those “best interests” and for the best interests of the family if she decides rook is not part of that. caterina wants lucanis to be the very specific person she thinks he needs to be to survive. if she was willing to hurt him to make him that person, what’s she going to be willing to do to what is essentially an external threat?

i think she’s smarter and holds her cards closer to her chest than to be outright hostile, at least at first, not to mention genuinely glad to have lucanis back and not picking fights she doesn’t have to. (he mentions her pretending not to be bothered by anything, including his possession. i think spite is as likely or more likely to be targeted as the “bad influence” if lucanis doesn’t act how she remembers or tries to leave/step down.)

i will say i personally find posts/fic about caterina approving of rook deeply unconvincing jgsjksks. or i’m like, well if she thinks you’re right for lucanis, then based on her past judgement about things that are right for lucanis, my hopes for you are not high! but then i’m a firm “we gotta get him out of there” truther, which is colouring all of this, and which not everyone is. crow canon being what it is, people have different perspectives, which is fine. just not believable from mine

caterina might give rook a chance to be the person she would like them to be. you could do something interesting with how her approval can make people feel and how she wins the loyalty and respect of people like teia, if she did accept rook but wanted to sort of mold them into the right person for the job as it were. not sure i would have the stomach for THAT dynamic but there you go

i guess in some ways it is more interesting from a “we gotta get him out of there” perspective if she DOES approve and it would be so easy to let things lie. there are things you can do with it and i feel like it almost lets lucanis’ character development down if it’s not himself he’s eventually made to stand up for. and i don’t disagree that two godslayers has got to be even better for a house’s reputation than one. hmmmm. can you all pretend this ask ended conclusively and enlightening i just had an idea for a scene i want to write bye. my final message: do whatever u want with it

[janahanooo]

Christmas time with the TWST boys cus it's december and I can't wait.

Riddle: Trey, Cater... report.

Trey: *sigh* "Operation get Yuu to join us on christmas" is going well. Ace and Deuce has been spending time with them and have talked about christmas around them multiple times. I think a few more days and they will joins us.

Cater: As for the decoration, you don't have to worry! Cay-cay got everything undercontrol! I got the boys to bring a huge tree and the fireplace is also finely decarated!

Riddle: good, good to hear. Soon, Yuu will see that Heartsablye's christmas is the best out of all the dorms.

Ruggie: C'mon Leona! Give more thoughts into it! You're rich! Your holidays must have been extravagant!

Leona: yeah I rather not remember those times. Look, I really don't care about this whole thing. Do what you want.

Jack: uh.. dormlead?

Leona: what?

Jack: The whole heartsabllye dorm os bragging that Yuu will join them for this years christmas...

Leona:

Leona: Ruggie, i hive you as much money you need to make this years christmas as extra as you want. I need to make a phone call...

Ruggie: hehe! Who you calling?

Leona: *smirk* a certain pipsquick

Azul: this months profits are high as expected. How I love holiday season *chuckle*

Jade: fufu~ I can imagine how happy you will be once you hear this wonderfull news.

Floyd: yeah! Azul, shrimpy will be celebrating this years holiday with one of the dorms! Ne ne, can we invite them?

Azul: oh? How nice...

Azul:

Azul: Jade, Floyd. Make sure its our dorm.

Jade & Floyd: On it boss/aye aye boss!

Kalim: Come on Jamil! It's christmas!

Jamil: yeah... more work for me. How exciting.

Kalim: don't be like that, I promised I will help you with the feast this year!

Jamil: I rather not have you in the kitchen. You might poison your own food...

Kalim: *sad puppy noises* aw..

Scarabia student A: Dormlead! Do you plan on inviting Yuu? I heard that they have no place to celebrate it and that they will join one of the dorms!

Kalim: OOOH! Did you hear that Jamil?! Jamil? Huh, he was here a minute ago...

Jamil: *in the kitchen* Alright everyone! We have to make the best feast that has ever happened in twisted wonderland!

Vil: Epel. Your posture.

Epel: ughhhh, my back hurts.... can we stop now?

Vil: no, everything has to be perfect. Do you want the prefect to join us? Then work hard for it. Rook.

Rook: Oui, rui de poison?

Vil: did you gathered the information I asked?

Rook: but of course. The heart duo is as of right now working on persuing Yuu to join them. The savannaclaw dorm is prepairng their own weapon. The leech twins are lurking around them, always ready to snatch them. Kalim is prepairing the biggest feast in history. The ingendhyde dorm is quiet as always, but they do plan to invite them. As for the diasomnia dorm... I'm sorry I couldn't gather information there.

Vil: hmm, this is enough. *turns back to epel and the others*

Vil: alright, from the beggining. 1, 2, and

The choir: *singing christmas specials*

Idia: okay, I sended the invitation. Not that I believe they would come here...

Ortho: come on brother! Believe in yourself a little!

Idia: Ortho... every other dorm has something special, I can confidently say that we have nothing worth seeing. And also, I'm just happy that they send us a christmas card.

Ortho: *sigh* as you wish brother. But I will still personaly invite them here. It's worth a shot you know?

Malleus: absolutely not. I won't have you poison the child of man.

Lilia: poison? I would never! I just cooked a special dish of mine! How could you say that! I thought you liked my cooking!

Silver: father... please, leave the kitchen before Malleus burns it down. *stands between them*

Sebek: *runs in* WAKA-SAMA! The human! T-they have decided!

The others: !!!

Malleus: hurry and tell me, which dorm did they choose?

Yuu: A- ACHOO! *sniff* ugh... I better not get sick now.

Grim: yeah you better not! Because then what am I suppose to do with these morons in our dorm?!

Yuu: I really don't understand why was everyone so sad when I said that I invited everyone to our dorm to celebrate together.... do you know?

Grim: no? How would I know???

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I had to come running over here after you talked about Sebek.

I actually disliked/ didn’t care for him that much but Nightmare Before Christmas event and his vignettes definitely improves my image of him! I love how mature he is regarding Skully in the near end of the event, and I love everything about his vignettes lol which??? Never happened before??? Sebek encouraging Sally using Romeo and Juliet story (can’t believe that’s canon in twst too afsfgshs), Sebek talking about his parents’ love story, etc. It’s all so wonderful and surprising (to me).

The story card especially makes me appreciate Sebek’s character much much more.

[Referencing this analysis!]

TWSTIES, STOP SLEEPING ON SEBEK... WAKE UP AND SMELL THE OZONE... He's just a loud and excitable puppy that wants your attention and praise 🥺 (<- and this is coming from a dog disliker)

Seriously 😭 Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas and his Nightmare Suit vignettes were such good showings of his character and his maturity! I love how the upperclassmen both praise him and chide him, I love how he demonstrates his loyalty to Malleus isn't blind devotion (something he's often accused of, even in-universe) but rather noting his flaws and choosing to accept those and love him anyway, I love how he stands up to Skully, I love how he reads stories and thinks deeply about the author's intent behind the writing, I love that he related it back to his own family's experiences... But most of all, I love how SEBEK ZIGVOLT of all students (and not Rook, who feels like the more "obvious" matchmaker character) is l playing Cupid for Sally. AND I LOVE THAT SALLY NOTICES HOW KIND SEBEK IS WHEN EVERYONE ELSE SHITS ON HIM AND CALLS HIM LOUD AND ANNOYING 🥺

asklfblaiyfaigepga; I'm feeling so much love for Sebek right now, WAHHHHH OTL He's so cute... but also so dumb... Babygirl... It's like that scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas where the Grinch's heart grows three sizes... (I’m the Grinch 💕)

Anyway!! I'm glad that more people are seeing his appeal! (And I hope that the analysis helps, even if only a little.) SEBEK TRUTHERS RISE UP ✊

[that-one-ostrich-friend]

Delicate Part VIII

sirius black x reader - delicate part viii

word count: 2.5 k

summary: this is part viii of a sirius black x ravenclaw!reader series. a slow burn romance with platonic remus x reader and maybe some flirtatious remus x reader if you squint a lot lol

warnings: y/n is from ravenclaw (not sure if that’s even a needed warning) so sorry if that’s not your house, allusion to divorced parents, kissing, cuddling

a/n: i’m done with finals bitches!!!! i can’t wait to write the next chapters and i cannot believe how long this has gotten lol… lots of of love to all of my supporters <3

The snow outside the Potters' house had thickened over the course of a few days, muffling the world in a pristine silence. Inside, however, warmth and laughter abounded. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily. It was Christmas Eve, and the house felt alive, as though it were stretching to accommodate the noise and joy of its many guests.

     Y/n sat cross-legged on the rug near the fireplace, watching Lily and James duel over a game of wizard chess. Lily had already lost three pawns, much to her annoyance, while James lounged back with the self-satisfied air of someone who thought victory was inevitable.

     “You’re terrible at bluffing, Evans,” James teased, resting his chin on his hand.

     Lily narrowed her eyes at him. “And you’re terrible at being humble, Potter.”

     “Touché,” James said, grinning as he moved his knight forward.

     Y/n smiled faintly, her gaze drifting to the plate of half-eaten cookies on the coffee table. She reached for one absentmindedly, the warmth of the room seeping into her as the others chatted around her.

     On the armchair beside her, Sirius was sprawled in his usual fashion, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was slightly mussed, falling into his eyes as he leaned forward to watch the chessboard. His focus wasn’t on the game, though—every so often, his gaze would flicker toward Y/n.

     He looked at ease here, his arm draped along the back of the chair. His smile was small but genuine, a quiet contrast to his usual bravado.

     Sirius seemed to sense her watching, and his gaze flickered down to hers. His smile softened, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded into the background. Then he tilted his head toward her slightly.

     “Bored already?” he asked.

     “Not at all,” Y/n replied, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m enjoying the show.”

     “Watching James pretend he has a chance?” Sirius teased, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary before returning to the chessboard.

     Remus didn’t miss the exchange. “You know,” he began, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this invested in a game you’re not even playing, Sirius.”

     Sirius gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     Remus shrugged, his expression innocently mischievous. “Nothing. Just saying you seem... very interested in the atmosphere tonight.”

     James snorted. “Subtle, Moony.”

     Remus only smiled as he moved to sit on the floor beside y/n. “How about a game of cards, then? Peter’s been hoarding the Exploding Snap deck like it’s gold.”

     Peter looked up from the couch where he was attempting to balance a cookie on his nose. “I wasn’t hoarding it. I was safeguarding it.”

     “From what?” Lily asked, not looking up from the chessboard as she finally managed to take one of James’s rooks.

     “From Sirius,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “Last time he blew up half the deck trying to win.”

     Sirius feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, it was a strategic maneuver.”

     “You nearly set the curtains on fire,” James pointed out.

     “That’s the mark of a true Gryffindor,” Sirius replied with a grin.

     Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. There was something infectious about Sirius’s energy tonight, something lighter than usual. Even the tension that had hung between them for weeks felt softer now, like an old wound that had started to heal.

     As the group settled into another round of friendly banter, Mrs. Potter appeared in the doorway, her smile warm and welcoming as always. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she announced, her gaze sweeping over the group. “But if any of you dare spoil your appetites with more cookies, I’ll have words.”

     “Yes, ma’am,” the group chorused, though Peter snuck another bite of his cookie anyway.

     Y/n couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly the Potters made everyone feel at home. Their hospitality wasn’t forced or overly grand; it was in the little things—the warmth of the fire, the never-ending supply of sweets, the way Mrs. Potter smiled as if she were truly happy to have them all there.

      Sirius stood, stretching lazily. “I’ll help set the table,” he said, surprising everyone.

     James raised an eyebrow. “Feeling particularly charitable tonight, are we?”

     Sirius shrugged, glancing briefly at Y/n before heading toward the kitchen. “Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit.”

     "Checkmate," Lily declared, her tone smug but not unkind.

     James groaned, “Unbelievable!”

     Lily snorted, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any for us to freshen up. Dinner’s going to start soon.”

     Y/n followed Lily toward the staircase, glancing back at the cozy living room one last time. The fire crackled softly, the warmth of the Potters’ hospitality lingering in every corner. As chaotic as the house was, it carried a charm that made her feel truly at home.

     The faint sound of Sirius’s voice carried from the kitchen as he spoke with Mrs. Potter, his tone light and teasing. Y/n hesitated for a brief second, then turned back to the staircase, her cheeks warming at the thought of him.

━━━━━━━•✧°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

     The house was still, wrapped in the quiet hush of the late hour. Christmas Eve had slipped into Christmas morning, and Y/n, unable to sleep, quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lily. The air in the hall was cool, but the warmth from the kitchen drew her in like a soft embrace.

     She padded into the kitchen, filling a glass of water from the tap. The sound of the water filling the glass was the only noise, and Y/n let the quiet soothe her. She drank slowly, leaning against the counter, her eyes wandering to the family photo on the wall.

     It was a snapshot of the Potters—Mr. and Mrs. Potter, smiling warmly, and a young James beaming at the camera, his hair untamed. It was the kind of picture that spoke of love, familiarity, and closeness. It was a family bond Y/n couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy for. Her own family wasn’t like this—there was no warmth, no shared moments like this. There was always a distance, something unspoken, that left her feeling like an outsider.

    Y/n sighed softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the counter, lost in her thoughts.

    “Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked from the doorway, making her jump. She turned to find Sirius leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed and a slight smirk on his face.

    “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/n said, feeling a bit guilty. “Just needed a glass of water.”

    Sirius chuckled, stepping into the kitchen. “You didn’t wake me. I was already awake.” He leaned against the counter beside her, glancing at the family photo on the wall. “It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah,” Y/n replied, her voice quieter now. “It’s... it’s perfect.”

    Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Perfect?”

     Y/n shrugged, the weight of her thoughts creeping into her tone. “I don’t know. My family’s not like that. We’re... not really close.”

     Sirius was silent for a moment, studying her. “I get that,” he said softly, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “My family’s... well, a bit of a mess.”

     Y/n smiled faintly, appreciating the unexpected vulnerability in his words. “Yeah, but at least you’ve got friends who feel like family.”

    Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “True. But I’m pretty sure I’m the best one of them all.”

     Y/n laughed lightly, turning her attention back to the photo, though her smile lingered. “I’ll take your word for it.”

     Sirius studied her for a moment longer before glancing at the clock on the wall. “You know, it’s Christmas now,” he said, his tone shifting slightly.

     She looked over at the clock and saw it was past midnight. “Oh, right. I guess it’s official now.”

     Slyly Sirius moved back so he stood under the mistletoe hanging above the doorway, his gaze flicking up to it. “Yeah, seems like it.”

     Y/n noticed it, her eyes moving up to the greenery. She raised an eyebrow, a playful glint entering her eyes. Slowly she crossed the kitchen until she was just a few inches away from him.

     “Well, it is tradition, isn’t it?” she said softly.

     Before he could respond, she reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek. She leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss there—nothing too much, just a gentle, fleeting touch of affection.

     Sirius froze for a split second, his eyes widening slightly before a mischievous grin spread across his face. He chuckled softly. “Well, happy Christmas to me,” he said, his voice low and a little more heated than before.

     Y/n pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her heart fluttering in her chest. The air between them hung thick with something unspoken.

     He stepped closer to her and his hand found her cheek, gently cupping it. Y/n’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at him, feeling an undeniable pull.

      “Y/n,” he whispered.

     “Yes?” Her thoughts were a blur as he leaned even closer. His eyes were fixed on her lips. 

     “Is this ok?”

     She nodded slowly and before she could second-guess herself, Sirius leaned down and kissed her.

     It wasn’t a soft, lingering kiss like before. It was sudden, passionate, and it consumed her entirely. His lips were warm and insistent, the weight of the moment pressing in on them both. For a heartbeat, everything else faded—the quiet kitchen, the family portrait, even the noise of her own thoughts. There was just him, just them, caught in the shared heat of the kiss.

     When they pulled away, Y/n’s breath was shaky, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her lips as though she could still feel the imprint of his kiss. Sirius’s eyes were full of something unreadable, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

     “A very happy Christmas to me,” he repeated softly, his voice a little raspier than before.

     Y/n’s heart skipped, her mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift between them. She didn’t know what to say, but the smile that spread across her face was warm, genuine.

     “God,” his thumb brushed across her cheek, “you’re gorgeous.”

     The faint blush that had dusted her cheeks spread throughout her entire face. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

     Sirius’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he broke the silence. “I think we should... go to the living room,” Sirius said, his voice still carrying that slightly raspy edge, his thumb brushing along Y/n’s cheek one last time before stepping back.

     Y/n nodded, her lips still tingling from their kiss. Without a word, Sirius gently took her hand, guiding her out of the kitchen. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, more intimate, as though the entire world had retreated to leave them alone in this moment.

     The living room was dimly lit, the embers of the fire casting a soft, flickering glow. Sirius let go of her hand only long enough to grab the throw blanket from the armchair, tossing it onto the couch before sinking into the cushions. He patted the space beside him with a grin that made Y/n’s heart skip a beat.

     “Come on,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

     She didn’t hesitate, settling beside him on the couch. The warmth of the room, combined with his presence so close, made her feel almost dizzy. Sirius shifted closer, his hand finding hers again.

     “You know,” he murmured, his tone soft but teasing, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned this.”

     Y/n laughed quietly, rolling her eyes. “Oh, of course. My grand scheme was to wander into the kitchen for water and somehow end up here with you.”

     Sirius smirked, his free hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

     And before she could reply, he kissed her again.

     This kiss was slower, deeper than the one in the kitchen. His lips moved against hers with a quiet urgency, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he leaned into her. Y/n felt herself melting under his touch, her own hands tentatively finding their way to his shoulders, then sliding down to rest against his chest.

     Sirius shifted slightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The soft glow of the fire painted them in gold and amber, the rest of the world forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

     His kisses grew more fervent, his hand trailing down her back, but there was nothing hurried or reckless about it—it was as though he was savoring every second. Y/n’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

     Eventually, Sirius pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. His gray eyes, darkened with emotion, searched hers, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable.

     “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

     “Yeah?” she replied, her own voice unsteady.

     His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

     Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Dangerous?”

     Sirius chuckled, leaning in to press a quick, teasing kiss to her nose. “Yeah. You make it impossible for me to keep my guard up.”

     She smiled, her heart swelling at his words. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

     “Maybe,” he agreed, his voice growing softer. He leaned back slightly, pulling her down with him until they were lying on the couch.

     To her surprise, Sirius didn’t try to kiss her again. Instead, he buried his face against her chest, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped an arm around her waist. The shift in his demeanor was almost startling—from the confident, teasing man who always seemed larger than life, to someone who now clung to her like he was afraid to let go.

     Y/n’s hand instinctively found its way into his hair, her fingers threading through the dark strands as she held him close. “Comfy?” she asked softly, her lips quirking into a small smile.

     Sirius mumbled something unintelligible against her chest, and she felt his lips curve into a smile. “You’re too good at this,” he murmured, his voice muffled but full of affection.

     “At what?”

     “At being... warm,” he said sleepily. “And soft. And perfect.”

     Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t say anything, instead letting her fingers continue their soothing motions through his hair. His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body melting away as he relaxed completely against her.

     “Happy Christmas, Sirius,” she whispered, her own voice barely audible.

     “Happy Christmas,” he murmured back, his voice trailing off as sleep overtook him.

     Y/n stayed like that, cradling him in her arms as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. The world outside was cold and quiet, but here, in the warmth of the Potters’ living room, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time: peace.

     And as Sirius’s even breathing filled the silence, Y/n let her eyes drift shut, the weight of the moment settling over her like the softest of blankets.

[twstfanblog]

Leech Fry

**Larimar Leech**

Age: 16 (July 4)

School: Freshman at NRC. Memeber of the Art Club and co assistant manager of the Mostro lounge.

Height: 5'11"

Hair: Mid-back length wavy/curly purple hair with teal ends. Currently has fucked up bangs, normally worn in a bun

Eyes: Topaz yellow, has Floyd's eye shape

Likes: Gems, drawing, swimming, seafood, nature documentaries, playing the drums, dancing, slasher movies

Dislikes: Being cold, indecisive people, cauliflower, being woken up early, Mario, his unique magic (only for the moment)

Pets?: Keeps finding and domesticating wild rats (Riddle hates it and is trying to convince him to get a hedgehog instead)

Fav food: Broiled crab with lemon and garlic

Who's their Best Friend: Icsac Clover-Leech (Best Cousins)

Dating/Crush?: Dating Finley (Neither of their parents know. Rook and Floyd know)

Former feral child, Larimar is a coconut crab mer who crawled out of the ocean and claimed Riddle as his mother. It was during Riddle and Floyd's long overdue honeymoon. They got endeared quickly, so they just took him home once their trip was over and Larimar's family couldn't be found.

He had very intense emotional breakdowns as a child since he spoke in an unknown mer dialect, was dealing with a completely new lifestyle/environment, and couldn't properly communicate with Riddle and Floyd. He's calmed down over the years but still remains a person who will bite and ask questions never.

Riddle is aware something happened to him. They attempted to bring him to the ocean, thinking his family were simply underwater and that's why they couldn't find them the day prior. Larimar had a full breakdown and screamed until Riddle moved him away from the water. Once Larimar was able to communicate properly, Riddle put him in therapy in an effort to unlock WHY Larimar refused to go into the ocean for nearly half a year when they first took him in.

Sadly, Larimar completely repressed the reason far before he was put in therapy, and he won't unlock it again until his 17th birthday.

Unique Magic: Shining Bright. A spell that allows Larimar to either make himself or an object into a flash grenade. He has no control over it and has routinely flashbanged his classmates during classes. Floyd thinks it's hilarious, and Riddle is concerned because he believes it's a fear response.

Once he gains control over it, he can use it both for defensive and offensive attacks.

**Rosalina Leech**

Age: 6 (October 30)

Height: 3'4"

Hair: Pixie cut red hair, has curlier heart bangs than Riddle

Eyes: One mid grey eye and one yellow eye

Likes: Reading, spelling, aquariums, the car wash, helping Riddle in the garden, arts and crafts, swimming

Dislikes: People not listening to her, being told to 'calm down', when Floyd takes her art off the fridge (to put new art up), Larimar's study time

Pets?: Likes rodents of all kinds so she likes Larimar's rats but agrees with Riddle on getting a hedgehog next (Or a bunny, or a guinea pig, or a rat-)

Fav Food: Strawberry tarts ♡

Bestfriend?: Jasper Clover-Leech (Best cousins)

Oopsie Baby that was very big and nearly killed Riddle, resulting in an emergency C-section. Rosalina is a red eel mer, which Floyd adores (Makes her easy to spot when they swim in the ocean).

The most know it all first grader on the block. She boosts about having read the dictionary cover to cover and how she's already lost two of her baby teeth. She's so mature for her age, the other six year olds can't compare.

Tantrums from hell; wailing, sobbing, flailing on the ground because Floyd picked up the wrong apple from the display at the grocery market. A holder of a 'Big Feelings' card, Rosalina is a challenge for Riddle's gentle parenting style. It's working for them, but Rosalina is just as hot-headed as Riddle, so they can both start throwing a fit if the situation isn't handled quickly.

Adores her big brother. If she isn't attached to one of her dads, she's shoving a book in Larimar's face to show off the new big word she can't pronounce properly. It got to the point where Riddle made a rule that she can't bother her brother when he's studying in an effort to lessen her clinginess.

Unique Magic: She does not show an ability to do magic and she's subconsciously trying to compensate for it.

[fluffle-writes]

As I don’t know much about “weird core” what thought process do you tend to imply when designing the characters? You talked a bit about Epel’s wings being stone and Pomfoire being angelic cause of the strict rules, but what else do you tend to think? (Let me pick apart your brain! Your designs are so cool and I wanna know the ideas!)

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

Ehehe, okay so! From what I understand about the concept, Weirdcore is an aesthetic that's reminiscent of things being uncanny, almost like in a dream where things are familiar but different - in a way that may feel unnatural! Shadows may fall strangely, or beings encountered may not be 'constructed' in a way that makes logical sense!

Because of this, I try to make my edits a little uncanny! Ace's flower has a wide, staring eye in the centre of it and no discernable mouth. Cater has a false face and four eyes that seem more cold and calculating. Vil is large and imposing, and Rook has no discernable human face - just a shadow. All these features can make the edits feel more uncanny or not quite right, which is what I feel captures the essence of Weirdcore!

(I'll put the info for each of the dorms under the cut here since it got really long haha)

As for the way I decide how to design the characters - I'm trying to keep each dorm on a theme! Heartslabyul, for example, will all have plants or flowers for heads, and a number of eyes that match their card number (I'm torn between giving Riddle no eyes - to represent his bling rage - or many eyes - to make it look like he's always watching/observing) the flowers I'm choosing will also have either references to flowers that may be associated with the characters in game (such as a rose for Riddle or a Violet/Clover for Trey) whereas others will be focused more on flower language or colours that suit them well - like Riddle and Cater.

Savannaclaw will have the heads of their respective animals - similar to what I did for Crewel - but I think I'm going to add skeletal designs to them like the spine/teeth I gave Ruggie! That way it can be a reference to how, under Scar's reign, the animals in the Lion king went through a drought and famine. I may go for a cooler colour scheme for Jack though, to make him seem somewhat separated from the other two in a reference to how he felt alienated by their plans in book 2, as well as using it as a way to reference how he grew up in a colder climate.

I'm less sure about Octavinelle - but I definitely want to include heart imagery for Jade and Floyd due to their UMs, and maybe a brain for Azul to have them all match. Perhaps it could be a joke that their hearts are visible when, in reality, they're not the types to 'have their heart on their sleeve' as the saying goes! I'll also likely use scale patterns and give Azul a few tentacles, but I'm not planning on giving them the heads of their respective merform species so they can feel more different to Savannaclaw.

Scarabia will have themes around precious materials and gems - I want to give Jamil Viper-like qualities, but I'll probably use overlays to give golden patterning to the scales to match Kalim. His details will be much less pronounced and more hidden though, to reference how he hides his true potential in order to avoid outshining Kalim. I feel like adding more eyes, either closed or open I'm not sure yet, could reference his observant behaviour as well as his UM since it works with eye contact.

Pomefiore, as you already know, has an angel theme. This is partially because of the restrictions that may be associated with angels - for example, some beliefs suggest that angels do not have free will so that they can fulfill the will of their god without error. However, I also chose angels because they're often described as being beautiful or otherworldly - something that cannot be truly perceived but is still believed to be pure and beautiful. This kind of references how I feel about Vil as a character - he's seen as beautiful on the outside, but many people fail to notice how caring he is and how much effort he puts into helping his peers become the best they can be.

Ignihyde, as you could probably guess, will be themed after technology. I'm gonna give Idia a CRT monitor for a head because I think they're cool - plus I can do fun things with his expressions using the screen! The tech thing is self-explanatory but the CRT thing could call back to how Idia holds onto his past and his Grief. Also CRT monitors may be more clumsy or awkward, which could work well alongside his awkwardness in social situations. I'm not too certain about Ortho though... I may make him slightly based on a doll - perhaps with a broken screen...

Diasomnia is one I'm having a little more trouble with - but I think I'll go for a theme of light/fire for them. Lilia has a lit candle for a head to represent how his life is burning down and may be snuffed out soon, Sebek will have something lightning-themed, and I feel like Silver could have a different appearance altogether, but I'm not entirely sure what I'll do for him yet... As for Malleus, I'm also struggling a little with him too, but I'll probably place a flame between his horns and add more Weirdcore elements to the rest of his design. I'll get there when I get there haha.

I hope this was coherent lol! Feel free to ask for clarification on anything I may have accidentally missed!

[belaephemeral]

Hold me tight, don’t let go (please don’t let it swallow me whole)

Pairings: Vil x Reader x Rook (gender-neutral)

Description: You discover how a lie becomes the truth, one that you can’t believe but one that was inevitable. And it tears you apart.

Author’s Note: sorry self-indulgent vent fic.

Everything is spinning. 

Your fingers uncontrollably tremble no matter how much you will them to still. You heart jumps, throbbing painfully against your ribcage. You feel it rattle underneath your skin and bone as you wheeze, in and out, desperate to fill your lungs with air, to resist the unbearable sensation clamping against your chest. 

The world is spinning. Shapes undulate and coagulate into abstract objects that swarm you. Your vision swims and you teeter between this horrible, excruciating waking world and succumbing to the welcoming dark obsidian depths that lurk around the edges, waiting patiently, before consuming you whole. 

Everything hurts. You feel like a rag, twisted, wrung of everything that you held hopelessly onto, discarded and left for good. Why did this have to happen to me? Why now? Why when everything seemed to be going so well, so perfect, when everything seemed to be going as planned? You’re so stupid, so gullible, no naive to think it was finally going the way you wanted because this foolish, immature saccharine perspective of yours is the weight that pulls you deeper, and deeper, as you drown. As you flail and no one will help you because there’s no one here for you. All except for him.

Your body feels like it’s on autopilot. In your line of sight, you catch the familiar sight of medieval architecture, the rich, luxurious shades of violet and mauve, and intricate gold embellishments. Stumbling through the corridor, your throat constricts, your stomach curls, but you resist the nausea that threatens to bubble into your throat to reach Pomefiore’s Lounge. Your hands trace the walls, finding something to hold onto to as it suddenly become hard to stand upright, as it becomes harder and harder to breathe.

The corridors are dim. The only source of light comes from the moonlight that streams through the dorm’s grand windows and the only thing you hear as you clammer down the hall is the whistling of the night breeze that billows through an opened window and faint chattering from the Lounge.

Meekily, peering through the splotches of black that cloud your vision, you enter the room. Upon your unexpected entrance, Vil promptly stands as Rook observes you carefully. “What’s the matter, darling”, the dorm leader rushes to your side, “What’s on your mind, my little star?” he reaches to cradle your face, pulling you closer to him gently, careful not to break you, careful not to hurt you more so than you’ve already been.

And you falter. You abhor the idea of showing people, much less them, your flaws, weakness, and vulnerabilities because that’s the last side of yourself you want to show them. Because the last thing you need is their pity. But the thought doesn’t cross your mind. The thought isn’t one that you register as you finally crack, splinter and break in his tender hold. Your embarrassment and humiliation at the idea of someone seeing you weak and fragile is cast to the side as your eyes agonisingly sting and burn, your heart squeezes painfully and is on the verge of bursting, and a tsunami rings in your eyes loudly. 

Because the image you’ve painstakingly built for yourself doesn’t matter not when you collapse into his arms, clutching onto the front of his robes desperately for something, someone, to weigh you down, to anchor you to this world and remind you that you’re here. Because you relish in being able to confide in your trusted confidants and bear yourself to them. You figure as much as Vil cards his fingers through your locks methodically, wrapping his arms around you, and bringing you closer to his chest. 

Following the metronome of his heartbeat, mirroring the rhythmic thump-thump that you feel as you’re pressed against him, you slow your ragged breaths. Gradually, it becomes easier to breath, it becomes easier to find your footing in a world that swirls underneath you and it becomes easier to find yourself again. It’s as though under this moonlight, under the expanse of stars above you, he’s a lighthouse that guides you home. A boat tossed across turbulent waves and tides finally able to see land and wretch itself away from the tempestuous oceans and clouds that broil over it.

The hushed voices reverberate in your head as murmurs, not able to comprehend the strings of words that flow out of the dorm leader and vice dorm leader’s mouth. Shaking, you lift yourself slightly off the male’s form, grimacing at the stains against his previously pristine outfit. You remain crumpled against him, like a tattered sheet of paper folded and torn at the edges, gathering what’s left of yourself as you shakily exhale. You aren’t sure when you were taken to one of the chemises of the Lounge but you can feel the plush cushion underneath you.

You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything without throwing up the organ that threatens to launch itself into your oesophagus. 

So, you don’t. You just revel in the warmth Vil exudes and the tender kiss he places against the crown of your head. You savour the way he takes your hand in his and soothingly rubs circles into the back of your hand. You bask in the way he whispers “it’ll be okay, darling”s into your ear, relishing in the way the “I’m right here, love, I won’t leave you” resounds throughout you. 

The couch dips behind you and you hear the sound of a cup being placed on the table in front of you and the sweet fragrances of jasmine. A hand slowly turns your chin upwards and a soft handkerchief catches the tears that descends down your cheek. For the first time in what feels like years, you open your eyes to glimpse at Rook softly smiling at you. You lock eyes and he stars back earnestly, wiping off the shimmering tracks along your cheeks. Once you blink, you feel lips carefully and softly press against your eyelid and whisper “Take as long as you need, mon trésor, we’re here for you”.

You don’t know if you’ll be able to voice the parasite that’s chewing away your insides or the monster ravaging the carefully built architecture of your mental foundations. You can’t find the words for it right now. But you’re comforted by the fact that they won’t pressure you into telling them - that they’ll wait once you’re comfortable and willing to share the demon that’s infiltrated your mind and haunts your waking thoughts.

But at this moment, you don’t want to think about the overwhelming anxiety that’s plaguing you. Right now, you want to cherish the feeling of their warm embrace. Securely, the hold onto you, each resting their head on your shoulder and lulling you into a stable state with the rhythm of their heartbeat and the tempo of their tranquil inhales and exhales.

You’ll worry about it later. Right now, you want to relish in this moment. Right now, you want to feel the safety of their arms that protect you from the treacherous outside world. Right now, you want to revel in this reverie - this escape you’ve all created, a respite from what seeks to hunt you once you leave the refuge of their embrace.

Right now, you just need a reminder that you’re human, you just need to distract yourself from your worries - you just need them. And they’re all you could need in this moment. You register two final kisses planted on your forehead and your cheek as you slowly, gently fall into your fatigue and descend into the world of dreams. But as you do, you aren’t drowned as you have been these days, two loving, guiding hands lower you to this land of Nod. Two figures, brilliant and luminescent in this dreamscape of yours ward away the darkness lying in wait. You haven’t slept better in days. 

Selfishly, you’ll stay in their embrace, stay in their arms, stay with them. Because they are anchoring you to this world, a lighthouse guiding you home, and the gravity that pulls your head out of this cloud of misery. And you’ll forever cherish their support as they are willing to give it to you unfailingly. And you’ll love them unconditionally for everything they’ve done for you. 

Sweet dreams, ma chérie, for another day is awaiting on the horizon.

But don’t worry, we’ll be by your side every step of the way, darling. We’ll be waiting for you and please don’t be afraid to lean on us when you find yourself having to. 

Je t’aime, mon cœur.

Tu me complètes. Bonne nuit. 

Sorry, I just want to be held. I hope everything gets better but it’s so fucking hard for some reason. 

You don't know what you've got until you lose it

[evanhereonearth]

I hurt my own feelings with this fic. VEILGUARD SPOILERS!

This is the prologue of Veilguard from the POV of my Inquisitor, Ilaana Lavellan, who has spent the time since Trespasser working tirelessly to change the world. Her work with the Dalish and Rivaini seers and the Avvar augurs inspired the Veil Jumpers’ formation. She is a Dreamer and she is so endlessly tired.

Now betrayed by one of her dearest friends when it mattered the most.

I stare at the letters side by side. One from a beloved friend. One from my most trusted agent, which I have just decrypted. And one…

One I have had for a week and have been expecting. If not today, soon. It’s time. And I’m already too late to make a difference.

Varric’s letter fills me with cold. Cold like the Elfsblood River in Emprise du Lion spiked with red lyrium, its rage hot against the frigid ice that has settled over my skin.

He is too smart to think I will buy it, too canny to believe I don’t have my own methods of tracking Solas—yet still, here it is, another spun tale from the man who once told me I should have lied to the Right Hand of the Divine herself when I woke in Haven with a hole in the sky and a hole in my head and a hole in my hand that could heal all three.

I read it again, my body past reacting outwardly but my ribs screaming to hold back the fury in my heart.

Inquisitor,

Greetings from miserable, rainy Minrathous! (Don't tell Dorian I called it that.) The rotten weather here is making me nostalgic for Skyhold. The mountains were freezing, but at least the air didn't smell like wet garbage.

We'll have to get in another game of Wicked Grace soon.

Harding picked up the trail again. I'd tell you not to worry, but I know how useless that is. Instead, I'll just say: I've got a great team on this. Neve could stare down the Maker, and wait until you meet Rook. They're a natural: Smart, resourceful, completely unpredictable. You'd like them, as long as you don't try to beat them at cards. Chuckles'll never know what hit him.

I'll write again once we have something solid for you. Drinks at the Hanged Man are on me when this is over. Take care of yourself.

Varric

Then I read Charter’s. Charter is Leliana’s agent and also mine, one of the few who has come face to face with Solas since the events of the Qunari Dragon’s Breath plot. I trust Leliana implicitly—she’s earned that from me, my truest friend aside from Dorian and my most steadfast partner in all my intricate work for the past decade, by my side by choice as I walk my own din’an shiral—and until five minutes ago when I got Charter’s, I also trusted Varric Tethras.

Charter’s words are brief, using only my code name and seven others she pulsed through the sending crystal only minutes ago.

Lathi,

Our Lady of Victory. Looking glass. Haste.

I’m already too late. Haste means immediately. Even if I have an eluvian directly into the centre of Minrathous, I cannot run fast enough to beat Varric to Our Lady of Victory. Morrigan cannot fly fast enough.

Varric told me not to come to Minrathous yet.

And I know, without any doubt, that he sent his message barely an hour ago; Irelin must have been holding on to it until he told her to send it.

I am frozen like that horrid river, my own Elvhen blood a block of ice in every vein. How many times have I tried to explain to Varric the stakes here? How many hours have I spent begging him to listen to anything beyond his own narrative?

Something cracks within me, and my body begins to vibrate like a hummingbird’s wings as I force myself to reread the final letter.

Vhenan, I do not know if you will see these words. My ritual is ready and will soon be set in motion. Perhaps when you read this the world will be as it once was, and you will see why all I did was necessary. I cannot ask your forgiveness, but I hope you come to understand. That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin…you do not know how close I came to breaking. I could have shared the truth, or even put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas…as I wanted.

I regret the pain I caused you.

What I feel for you will never change.

This, I have read a thousand times in the days since I found it in the Crossroads. I knew he sensed me close to his Lighthouse, knew he felt as I always do when we enter each other’s orbits.

It is the closest thing to an invitation he will ever send me; Solas once pushed me from his own din’an shiral out of fear I would come to regret loving him, that his steps would poison our love and the safety we built in each other’s hearts. He knew, when he sent this letter, that he had been wrong then about my motivations—or at least that my motivations have had the time to reveal to him my truth. He remembers how I said, “Let me help you, Solas.” And he is no fool. He knows every threat to his course, every passing breeze, and he knows every deliberate step I have taken on the journey I chose for myself these last ten years. He knows it’s not for him alone; he knows my mind is my own. He also knows I am free to choose and have chosen.

And now in my own foolish trust of an old friend, I will be too late to help him after all this time. Because Varric knows if I show up at Solas’s ritual, the Void take me, it will not be to stop my love at all costs.

I take a single steadying breath. Too late or not, I have to try. He will feel me coming to him. Perhaps that will be enough.

I summon a trio of wisps as I turn and sprint for my eluvian, whispering, begging, imbuing them with all the love in my heart and praying it is enough to stall whatever Varric has set in motion with this betrayal.

***

Varric’s letter and Charter’s, I drop into the warded message box I share with Leliana and Morrigan. Morrigan is deep in Arlathan Forest with Strife and Irelin, and Leliana—Divine Victoria—is leading the entire Chantry of Southern Thedas. They will both know soon enough.

Slipping through the mirror buzzes against the surface of my skin, enveloping me in the magic of the Fade, of the in-between place that is the Crossroads. We do not have Solas’s Vi’Revas, and our small section of the eluvian network is ours at his sufferance, unacknowledged for the sake of our plausible deniability—something we are all well aware of. The wisps I summoned are already gone, whirring through the Fade to find my love with as much haste as they can muster.

Time moves differently here. My feet pound over its ancient paths, rainbows glimmering and shimmering in the raw magic that surrounds me, but I still cannot move fast enough. With a thought, I slip into wolf form; I may not truly be faster this way, but I feel faster.

The mental boost gives me strength. It is not far to the Minrathous eluvian, but what lies on the other side is the true terror in my soul. Dorian’s manor is across the city from Our Lady of Victory. Even with all the magic in Thedas, I cannot simply appear where I want to appear.

When I reach the eluvian, I launch myself through, transforming myself back into the shape of Ilaana Lavellan that the world knows as the Inquisitor.

And what I hear makes me almost trip and sprawl out onto my face.

“Citizens of Minrathous!” The voice booms through the air from the Archon’s Palace.

I don’t hear the rest of the message, because Dorian throws open the door to the warded eluvian room, pinged by the wards that recognise my mana.

“It’s started,” he says. “Ilaana—”

“Varric lied,” I tell him shortly. “Did you know?”

I’ve never heard the razor-sharp edge to my voice that slices through the air between me and my dearest friend. He gapes at me, piecing together what I’m saying as horror twists his expression before he can answer.

“Dorian, did you know?”

My voice cracks the second time, and he flinches at my anguish.

“No, Lathi. I trust you above all else in this Maker-forsaken world. Into the Fade and Beyond.”

The weary smile he gives me is enough; Dorian cannot lie to my face.

That last bit is a joke, one I didn’t know I needed in this moment. Humans call it the Fade, elves call it the Beyond, and right now, the veil between our world and the spirit world, regardless of what anyone calls it, is about to vanish. My love is trying to heal the wound he inflicted upon this world to save it so long ago. The immense trust Dorian has in me, to believe the veil falling is survivable?

I can return that trust. I will return that trust.

“I need to get to Our Lady of Victory,” I tell him, forcing the mask back on—if I am going to survive tonight, that mask will be my lifeline.

I am too late already. But I have to try. I am too late already. But for Solas, for all of us and everyone we love on both sides of the veil, I have to try.

***

It is the quiet that tells me I’m too late.

Dorian and I burst through the eluvian into the wilds of Arlathan to find it over—but the Veil still stands. In the shellshocked broken statues, in the stink of blight that stings at my nostrils in a whiff on the wind, we are late enough that the scene has grown quiet.

Not silent. The storm of magic that fills the air with the familiar feel of the Fade—Solas’s mana, so known to me, permeating every pore—remains an echo.

An argument with Varric from last month springs back into my mind.

“Varric, the veil is already failing. It will fall whether you want it or not, and only Solas knows how to do this in a way that will not release the entire reason he created it in the first place.” My temples bloomed with the headache I was nursing at the time, circular arguments that could find no purchase on the smooth, blunted surface of Varric’s stubbornness. “It’s the Blight. The blighted Evanuris, whoever of them remains. If we find him, we cannot risk their escape.”

“We don’t know that,” Varric insisted for the hundredth time. “He’s trying to drown the world in demons—we can’t just let him because you believe his propaganda.”

“I believe the decade of my own studies! Everything I have found independently on both sides of the veil confirms it, that the Evanuris created or unleashed the Blight and weaponised it. And that the veil kept them from using it to destroy the entire world. Every living being in Thedas owes Solas their very existence.”

“And he’s taking the veil down and will let the blight out again—”

“He will do no such thing! It would defeat the purpose of everything he has done so far, and you are not listening to me. You have decided, wrongly, that you understand this better than I do, better than he does, better than the Veil Jumpers and the seers, better than Morrigan, who holds the memories of Mythal herself.”

“Look, Ilaana, I know you and Chuckles were in love, but he lied to you all that time. You’re too close to this to be objective. He’s the literal god of lies.”

“Or none of the rest of you bothered to truly know him. If you had, you might have been forced to accept that he is right. You see only the version of him you wish to see; I at least can differentiate between the man and the mask he wears.”

That was it, I realise, as Dorian and I warily pick our way towards the ritual site.

That was the moment Varric decided he would keep me from this. He has always believed me to be delusional. He has always been unable to accept that he is wrong. Wrong about Cole’s personhood, wrong about Bianca. I can see him projecting that upon me; he trusted Bianca, a woman who married someone else instead of him, a woman who leaked red lyrium into the world to Corypheus, a woman who deluded him, kept him begging for scraps for years. A woman more delighted by her own cleverness than any willingness to take responsibility for her actions. He thinks my relationship with Solas is the same.

It is not and never was.

In the past decade, much of the Inquisition has fallen away. Bull hasn’t much stayed in touch since he and Dorian ended things; Tevinter became too large for Bull to deal with. He returned to the Chargers, and as far as I know is somewhere in Antiva fighting the Antaam.

Some, I know still only to keep an eye on. Like Thom and Vivienne and Sera. Others are friends I keep close but not too close, like Cass and Josie and Cullen. Varric and Lace, I have trusted until now, if not to the degree I trust Dorian and Leliana and Merrill and Morrigan, enough to trust they would listen to me and my hard-won expertise.

Folly. The folly of my too-tender heart that gave me my nickname. Da’lath’in. Lathi.

Beside me, Dorian makes a small noise. I’m so caught up in my rampaging thoughts that I stop only when he throws out an arm across my chest

“What in the blazes is that?”

I smell the Blight before my eyes process the lumpen mass I’m seeing. My first thought is that it is a womb torn out and left pulsing on the ground, its umbilical cord winding away to attach to…something worse.

My second thought is that this impression is all too correct.

I incinerate it with a thought, Dorian’s barrier protecting us from any spray of the explosion, and fire races along the umbilical cord to the larger mass, lighting it up with a gurgling pulse that makes every pore on my body raise itself into gooseflesh.

“The veil remains, but the blight got out,” I say, my voice hollow, numb.

“Lathi, if you don’t want to see this—”

“I have to.”

It comes out almost as a gasp. I take three slow breaths, trying to build myself a cocoon of calm even as something deep within my spirit begins to shriek.

Dorian burns through the barrier, and I cast about for any threats that could remain. The blight here—this is unlike any blight I have encountered. My skin crawls like it’s trying to escape from my body.

Thom alerted me some time ago to a report from Wardens who seem to have encountered an ancient elven lab beneath a mountain that birthed horrors unlike any they’d encountered. Darkspawn twisted enough to make the usual hurlocks and genlocks and shrieks look downright friendly.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

What has Varric done?

We see no actual darkspawn as we wind through the path, but that does nothing to settle my spirit. The entire place is hushed with creeping wrongness, echoes of magic like a tempest barely calmed. Or cut off abruptly.

I see footprints in the dirt. Dorian is no tracker, but I am still Dalish. Two dwarves—that’ll be Varric and Harding. One set is a boot and a hard imprint of something not a foot. Neve Gallus, most likely. She is known for having lost part of a leg much like I have lost part of an arm, though in entirely different circumstances.

One set that must be Rook’s. Grier Aldwir, a Veil Jumper who I encountered long ago in Rivain before the Veil Jumpers even existed. Not long after Dragon’s Breath, when I first ventured out to the those I thought might meet me with open minds.

Varric seems to have somehow thought I wouldn’t find out about the people he intended to take to disrupt my love’s ritual, but I admit surprise at Rook’s identity.

I would have thought Grier would have more sense.

Not that my first impression of them was anything more than passing; Grier was starstruck to be in the presence of the Inquisitor, and I noted the way they asked stupid questions that others seemed to expect of them as much as I noted the sharp intelligence behind those blue-green eyes. I recognised something of myself in that; it has often behooved me to allow others to make assumptions about my own capacity. Better people underestimate you, especially as an elf in Thedas.

The thoughts are as much distraction as anything. That shrieking part of my soul has not ceased its panicked noise.

Dorian and I pick our ways forwards still, combing the path for evidence. Some residue of demons, more blight, though the blight seems to be leading away from here, almost like tracks in and of itself. It veers off into Arlathan Forest, which is something I am likely to hear about sooner rather than later. I will get word to Irelin and Strife after we discover what happened here at this ritual.

I don’t let myself wonder about Solas. I cannot.

If I do, I will break.

We come to an old ruin, and even from where I stand, I can see the evidence of cataclysm. I have been here once before when tracking Solas, so I know that the enormous statues of the ancient Evanuris were standing not long ago.

Now only a few still stand upright; the rest have toppled like bookshelves in a library when one is pushed to fall upon the others in a cascade of destruction.

My skin grows cold even as my analytical mind puts together pieces of what must have happened.

“Surely even dwarves could not be so foolish as to drop a statue on a ritual of that magnitude of volatility,” Dorian says, his own mind making the same connection as mine. “One does not need magical acuity to understand that such a thing would—”

I waggle my prosthetic hand at him. “Have unintended consequences?”

“My dear, you are far more gracious than I.”

I am, of course, referring to my own inadvertent interruption of a ritual of a tenth this size: Corypheus sacrificing Divine Justinia to tear open the Fade. The moment I tripped and landed in the role of Herald of Andraste, later Inquisitor. The moment I fell into the Fade in the flesh and tumbled back out of it a miracle. The moment my fate became irrevocably bound to Solas’s.

“They had two mages with them, as well,” I murmur. “Dock Town’s Neve Gallus and a Veil Jumper called Grier Aldwir. Rook, as Varric calls them. Either one of them ought to have known better.”

“Neve certainly should have,” Dorian murmurs. “I don’t know her well, but enough to know she doesn’t take chances. That said, she has not had the benefit of knowing someone who lives and breathes the Fade, let alone two someones. Three if we count Cole.”

“Even so,” I say shakily. My ability to compartmentalise is cracking along its fault lines.

“Even so,” Dorian agrees.

I can feel spirits pressing against the veil, drawn to me as always. Especially when there has been enormous magic brought to bear, and there has been more enormous magic brought to bear here than any time in history since the day Solas made the veil itself.

“Dorian.”

He pulls his gaze from the toppled statues to look at me, his own demeanour showing he’s as aware of the activity in the Fade as much as I am.

“Don’t worry,” he says, a sardonic smile quirking his lips without reaching his eyes as he quotes a line he once said to me when we were torn out of time in a red lyrium nightmare of Redcliffe. “I’ll protect you.”

He knows I need to see.

We both know I may not be able to bear it.

***

A decade of practice has made slipping across the veil into the Fade as simple as lighting a candle with my magic.

It feels like home here, and that thought wrenches a yearning sob from me at my decade-long hope crushed.

“Imagine a world where the Fade is not somewhere you go, but a state of nature, like the wind. Where spirits are as common as trees or grass.”

Solas’s words to me, a lifetime ago in Haven.

My first wild glimmer of possibility.

The spirits around me reflect my sorrow, my fear, but they know me. They know me or know of me, and they do not turn into demons when my emotions are stormy; instead, they pull close around me. Compassion and Valour and Courage and Determination.

“Show me,” I whisper to my friends.

The world of now falls away.

I feel the germination of Solas’s ritual, feel his magic grow, spreading in undulating waves from where he stands atop a ritual platform raised on a flight of stone-hewn stairs.

The sight of him wrenches at my heart. Oh, I have had glimpses of him over the years; we are ghosts of the wolves I carved for him in Skyhold so long ago, always circling each other, never without each other’s scents. I have seen him echoed in memories in the Fade, regrets and tears, his and my own both, seen him in truth, from afar, gazing upon me and allowing for scattered moments of longing we both knew must be brief. Whether as a wolf or a man, I know him always, as he knows me. He has never hidden from me, nor I from him.

But seeing him in this memory, only a bare hour or two ago, is different.

His name means both Pride and One Who Stands Tall, and in this moment, it is only the latter the spirits see. Thus it is only the latter I see. The spirits are here, and they are ready, because he has prepared them for this. Pride blooms in me—pride that my love has not an army, but a tribe thousands strong of spirits ready to help—spirit self seeing self—ready to heal the wound he inflicted on the world, ready to help the bone knit back together after it has been re-broken and reset.

They know the risks. They know what lies beyond the door.

Corruption and death.

For all of us.

Still, they are here, and they are ready.

The scope of Solas’s power staggers me as it grows. It eclipses the ritual site, so much raw magic it is as if the veil already does not exist. This—this is what remained of a fragment of Mythal?

My own power is not negligible; my connection to the Fade has grown to the point that I am virtually untouchable to anyone who tries to harm me.

But this?

No wonder the Evanuris convinced the ancient Elvhen that they were gods.

I can also feel that it reaches the limits of his strength.

He has been counted among them, but he has never been their peer.

Yet he bested them anyway.

Magic, raw and awe-inspiring, pours out of the Fade, permeating the earth, the ritual site, the air, everything for miles around. It is a beacon of pure power to anything with an awareness, anything with a connection to the Fade and, I suspect, even to anything without.

I’m so caught up in the torrent of energies that I almost miss Varric’s approach.

Not all spirits have the fortitude to resist change in the face of such enormous magical shifts; some few, so desperate to reunite with the physical world the veil sundered them from, tear their way through the tattered veil, the violence of it twisting them into demons on the way. Like with the rifts I spent years closing with the Anchor. Like the Breach.

Varric and his team fight their way through. Neve is an adept ice mage, her mana elegant and efficient. Rook is electric, using the newly emerged orb-and-dagger fighting style rather than a staff like I prefer, and their attacks seem fitting to what Varric said in his letter about the eponymous chess piece: thinking in straight lines.

The observation fills me with dread.

I don’t want to see this. I do not want to witness.

I have no choice.

I owe him this, because Varric fooled me, and I was too late to stop it. If I allow myself to freeze in inaction with my own regrets now, I will never leave this place.

Even as I think it, I hear Varric’s voice.

“All right,” he says to Rook. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure?” Neve asks after blasting away a demon who ventured too close.

“Positive. You three just keep the demons off me while I talk to him.”

“Varric,” a breathless Lace Harding cuts in, “Solas isn’t going to stop just because an old friend asks nicely.”

“Solas needs someone to sell him another option, to justify him changing his mind.” Varric sounds so sure of himself, and the sheer weight of knowledge that he left me behind on purpose threatens to capsize me.

I miss what Rook says in the flash of fury that nearly blinds me, but Grier must be encouraging Varric, because Varric’s answer adds fuel to my fire.

“Thanks, Rook. Whatever else he is, he’s my friend. And if he won’t listen to me, he’ll hear from Bianca.”

No. No, no, no, no, no-no-no.

I cannot think of a worse way to approach Solas at this moment, but I cannot stop it from happening.

It has already happened. Already brought this night to ruin.

“Hey, Chuckles! Hope I’m not interrupting!”

Visions in the Fade shift perspective, and I’m suddenly between Varric and Solas, looking up at my love when he turns to face the fool of a dwarf. I have not seen Solas this close since Dragon’s Breath, and all the air leaves my lungs as his face shifts through a hundred micro expressions from one heartbeat to the next.

Weariness. Genuine surprise. A glance behind Varric—looking for me and not seeing me—turning to anger as my instincts scream that my love, my vhen’an’ara, has correctly deduced in that moment that Varric is why I am not with him.

And finally, rage, quickly pushed down.

My ears ring as their fragmented conversation continues, as Varric barrels ahead with Bianca levelled at Solas’s heart.

At my heart. My heart. My heart.

Vhenan.

Bianca shatters as Solas destroys the unique crossbow with a thought, leaving Varric untouched. Solas lifts his ritual dagger once more to the ritual.

“People are always dying, Varric,” Solas says in answer to something I did not hear, the weight of an eternity on every word, “it is what they do.”

The spirits around me wrap me in what comfort they can, soothing Compassion and stalwart Courage tethering me to my own existence so I don’t shatter like that fucking crossbow.

Worse is coming. If Varric is here, he didn’t bring down the statues.

Even as I think it, I hear Rook’s voice.

“We need a better plan.”

Then Harding: “Do you want me to take the shot?”

I cannot allow myself to feel this additional betrayal. No part of me cares that they genuinely think they are the good guys here; they are wrong, so deeply wrong and will never know it.

“Won’t work,” Neve is saying. “He’s too powerful.”

“What if we disrupt the ritual?” Rook says, pointing…at the statues.

I cannot listen to them, to this asinine stupidity, this mockery of heroism. “Please,” I beg the spirits. “Don’t make me hear them.”

I already know what they are going to do; I only don’t know how it ends.

One more message, says a spirit of Valour. Be brave.

Solas’s voice. “We shared a journey years ago. Do you think I would do this if there were some other, better option? You came a long way and made a valiant effort, but this story does not end with my downfall.”

Some part of me unclenches. A wave of gratitude encompasses Valour; the spirit would not have echoed those words except to bolster me.

Banal nadas, whispers Possibility in my ear. Banal nadas.

Nothing is inevitable. The lesson Possibility came to teach me so long ago.

I see the first statue begin to fall.

It cracks through the air, breaking stone shattering, stone that has stood for millennia. The statue crashes into the next one, then the next.

I don’t have to hear Solas to know he is screaming, “No. No, no!”

He catches the closest statue with pure will, hefting it backwards from where it is about to crash down upon him. Resolute, implacable. He raises his dagger once more—and Varric throws himself at Solas.

I watch them tussle, Varric with his mere few decades of experience against the Dread Wolf, who has commanded armies and outwitted would-be gods for ages untold.

It is only ever going to end one way, and Varric has reached the final boundary of Solas’s forbearance and patience.

The dagger plunges into Varric’s chest, above the heart but a mortal wound nonetheless.

My body is shaking, shuddering with the sight of it, but my emotions are too numb, too jumbled; this isn’t over. This isn’t the end.

Then I see it.

Behind Solas.

A tear in the veil, like that rift into the Fade at Adamant, and like that rift, horror waits on the other side.

One form I immediately recognise from his iconography, and if I didn’t recognise that, I would know the sheer force of his presence.

Elgar’nan, first of the Evanuris.

His power is a force that cannot be contained or reckoned with; the weight of it has density, the enormity of his will threaded with something I only just tasted.

Blight.

Beside him is…a monster. My first thought is that perhaps it is Andruil, whose Void-touched armour drove her insane. This gangly, long-limbed creature dangling tentacles—but no.

No.

This is Ghilan’nain.

Mother of the fucking halla, my Dalish arse. Mother of monsters. Mother of nightmares.

A cataclysmic concussion rends the air. Dimly, I am aware of Rook soaring into a pillar with the sheer force of it.

I cannot see Solas. I cannot see Solas. I cannot see Solas.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are out.

The blighted gods are out.

Varric, what have you done?

I don’t realise I’m screaming myself hoarse until hands shake my shoulders. Human hands. Dorian’s hands.

He pulls me back to the present, out of the Fade. I taste blood where I have chewed through the inner flesh of my cheek.

Through the Fade, the spirits push one more message through to me. It is a message for me, from them. To tell me my love lives. I feel with it a sense of terror beyond anything I have imagined. Beyond the lair of the Nightmare at Adamant, beyond the mind-breaking horrors of seeing a blighted Solas tossed dead on the floor in a future that never came to pass, beyond the pitiful ploy for godhood that was Corypheus, beyond anything I’ve faced since.

The message comes from within the prison he built to contain the blighted gods.

It comes with the force of my love’s voice resonant with terrible calm in every word—words meant not for me, but for someone else.

For Rook.

“You have no idea what you have done.”
















[mylittlesecrethaven]

Idia's Signature Spell Is So.... Meh....

Dude, Idia's signature spell is LITERALLY JUST A FUCKING KEY!

It lets him open a fucking door in S.T.Y.X. headquarters.

WTF?!

Everyone else has really (some of then) fucking cool signature spell, and he just got the short end of the stick.

Fucking hell.

ANYWAY!

If you're curious, Ima list out the characters and their signature spells! (Don't worry, I'll link the post I got this info from here.)

Riddle - Off With Your Head - He basically puts a heart collar on someone and they can't use magic. Only he can take it off.

Trey - Paint The Roses - He can overlay an item's sensory characteristic with another characteristic of his choosing. Can sometimes work on magic, but it's not easy.

Ace - The asshole doesn't have one.

Deuce - Double Down - You hit him, he stores up the energy and hits back twice as hard. (Only with magic though) He has to reach a minimum to be able to use it though.

Cater - Split Card - He can split himself into multiples of himself. The more clones, the harder it is to do.

Leona - King's Roar - He can turn anything he touches into sand, even people. He has to do a chant though.

Ruggie - Laugh With Me - He can control a person by having them copy his movements. The more people, the harder it is, naturally.

Jack - Unleash The Beast (what are you, fucking Hulk?) - He can turn into a wolf. That's it.

Azul - It's A Deal - He can technically just take someone's magical ability, but that can cause harm and fast blot accumulation. To compensate, he creates a contract that could potentially take the signers ability depending on the terms of the contract.

Jade - Shock The Heart - He can force a person to truthfully answer any question he asks. However, they have to look directly into his left eye, they can't be too trusting or have strong mindsets or be very loyal, and it only works on the person once. (Kinda a shit ability to have that many requirements when compared to the fucking mind control abilities that don't need anything)

Floyd - Bind The Heart - He basically makes a force field (not really) around him that deflects magic attacks, making the magic attack miss him. Much simpler and better than whatever the fuck Jade's is, I swear.

Kalim - Oasis Maker - He can make it rain fresh water. Has to do a little chant though. (Some of these abilities, I fucking swear)

Jamil - Snake Charmer - He can hypnotize multiple people to do his bidding. Too many and he accumulates a ton of blot, and I think they have to look in his eyes? (Maybe. But also, why is controlling people easier than making them truthfully answer a question?! Wtf?!)

Vil - Fairest One Of All - He can put a curse on whatever he touches with whatever conditions he wants. He can't lift the curse at all, though, and I think he can be affected by his own curses (maybe), and I believe he can put a condition that gives the curse a time limit? (There's a lot of maybes on his. Sorry)

Rook - I See You (what a terrifying name holy fuck) (My bad, the ENG name is Arrow Afar. Idk wtf is up with JPN tho) - He can mark someone with his magic and track them. However, if they end up somewhere with magic blockers, he can't track them (obviously).

Epel - Sleep Kiss (The ability is too cool for that shit name) (Nevermind, the ENG name is Crimson Slumber which is much cooler) - He can make a glass coffin around someone that forces them to sleep inside. It also protects the sleeper, so it's either a defense for them, or a prison to keep them contained.

Idia - Gate To Underworld - He can open and close a fucking door.

Ortho - Poor little guy doesn't have magic.

(Ok, these below I'm not too certain on, so some of them may be wrong)

Malleus - Fae Of Maleficent (right on the nose) - He can make anyone near him fall asleep. (No more sleeping problems for Yuu)

Lilia - Far Cry Cradle - He can see fragments of memories attached to items or people he touches. (Silver could never keep a secret from this man)

Silver - Meet In A Dream - He can enter people's dreams. Very simple.

Sebek - Living Bolt - I'm not too sure about this one, but he either uses very strong lightning magic or actually turn into lightning. (Crocodile lightning.... pfft)

So yeah. that's pretty much it.

Some of these abilities are kinda shit. (Jade, Idia)

But the rest are cool I guess.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Riddle Rosehearts Suitor Suit Voice Lines

Summon Line: I don't understand how this bride can marry someone she just met. It's rather astounding that she is able to fall in love so easily.

Groooovy!!: The ideal partner, hm. Of course, I would have to reject anyone who is lax with their time management... ...Hold on, why are we speaking of this?

Home: As the head of Heartslabyul, I shall give a sincere proposal to this bride.

Home Idle 1: I hear that the Queen of Hearts had a very strong marriage. If there is some sort of secret to maintaining that relationship... I would like to give that resource to my parents...

Home Idle 2: Rook-senpai explained that we should offer up words of affection every day to those that we hold dear. Relationships seem to take much effort...

Home Idle 3: What is it, why are you staring at me so? ...I seem different than usual? Ah, perhaps it is because I've tucked my hair behind my ear.

Home Idle - Login: I feel as though the bride is too focused on outward appearance for her ideal prince. I believe it is what is inside that counts.

Home Idle - Groovy: The rose pushed through my lapel buttonhole here is from my dormitory's gardens. Doesn't it smell lovely?

Home Tap 1: Epel from Pomefiore... Despite his appearance, he seems to be a man possessing great spirit. I cannot help but wish to see how far he can go.

Home Tap 2: Both hedgehogs and flamingos get along well with their partners. How wonderful.

Home Tap 3: Ace sure does clean up well when he fixes his appearance like this. He should make sure to always look this way.

Home Tap 4: When I dress this formal, it reminds me of the parties I attended with my parents. The cakes I saw at those parties looked very delicious.

Home Tap 5: Wah! Why are you attempting to open my jacket? ...You're interested in the charms on my Albert chain? They are shaped like the card suits.

Home Tap - Groovy: I am fully knowledgeable in how to carry myself during formal occasions. Shall I show you the proper way as well?

Requested by @crierofirony.

[tenebriism]

// I don't care what people say about the writing in Veilguard, especially when it comes to Rook. I thought it was a little cringe at first, too, and sounded more like a human resources team building exercise than the dark game it's meant to be, but the dialogue has really grown on me.

Rook is HILARIOUSLY awkward, and considering they weren't entirely prepared to spearhead this operation after Varric's injury, I think that really shines through at certain points. Yeah, it's mega 'believe in your friends and the heart of the cards' at times, but it's... natural. Warming. Like a boss who came into the office with a 'YOU'RE PROMOTED' contract on their desk unexpectedly, who really gives a shit and wants to make a difference even despite feeling like they're way in over their head.