#but it seemed likely that the inquisition would keep that from her anyway

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which Cullen has accidentally become invested in.

Supplemental material for Unwanted, from the perspective of Cullen. In this addendum, Cullen and Leliana discuss the banquet.

(Masterpost. Addendums. Words: 1,353. Rating: most audiences. Warnings: mentions of death and murder. Addendums may contain spoilers for Unwanted and are best read after finishing the story entirely.)

Chapters 25, Addendum

“Commander, there’s an urgent matter that requires your attention,” the soldier whispered to Cullen, not a minute after he’d retaken his seat at the banquet table. “The raven’s fled the rookery.”

Ah. The others had not been complacent in his absence, then. For if he was hearing Leliana’s summons, surely she knew.

“I’ll see to it right away,” Cullen said. Thank the Maker, really. He did not wish to spend another second in the presence of these pretentious plutocrats. “Excuse me,” he told them, rising from his seat. “There is something to which I must attend.”

Though they stared at him, bug-eyed, as he left—leave he did. The soldier led him through the rotunda door, into the blessed quiet of its embrace. Heaving a long-overdue sigh, Cullen told them:

“I’ll be in my office.”

The soldier nodded. “Sister Nightingale will join you shortly.”

But until then, a respite. Cullen utilised every second, escaping from the keep to his tower. Given he did not encounter Lady Trevelyan and Lady Erridge on the journey, he assumed they had already made it to their rooms. Good. At least she was safe.

And so was he—at last secure within the confines of his office, its thick stone walls between him and the banquet. How he preferred it.

In his moment of solitude, his mind recalled the information Lady Trevelyan had revealed. The horror of the Templar attack. The realisation that it was the cause of the Circle’s downfall. And the failed attempt to stop its destruction.

Too much, for anyone to bear. He would know.

But his peace was soon disturbed, as the door opened. The one who opened it did not knock; she did not need to. All doors opened for the Spymaster of the Inquisition.

“The Comtesse Bervard has never looked worse,” Leliana commented as she strut in, a sly smile on her face.

Cullen stared at her. Now was not the time.

“What happened?” she asked, sensing his disapproval (not that he was ever shy about giving it). “Apparently, Dorian’s cutlery suggested something had occurred between the Comtesse and Lady Trevelyan.”

Cullen sighed. “It’s… it regards the Ostwick delegation. I spoke to her about it some time ago, and she… she revealed that her fellow mages are not missing.”

“They’re dead?”

Leliana’s matter-of-factness in this question was not merely a symptom of her impassive nature—rather, it was a quiet ‘I told you so’. Cullen had always held out some small hope that the delegation still existed, in some form or another. Leliana had been… more realistic, about the idea.

Perhaps it was the guilt which drove his optimism—knowing that they had neglected to send their scouts until it was too late. Then again, it would have always been too late.

“Yes,” he admitted. “They were killed.”

Leliana’s eyebrow quirked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Lady Trevelyan didn’t wish to speak of it any further.” Cullen shook his head. “It was not my place to say.”

Though he expected some rebuttal to this, Leliana understood. This was different, to political secrets and Chantry lies.

“What changed?” she asked. “Why does she wish to speak of it now?”

“You recall why the rebellion at Ostwick occurred?”

Even for her, a woman whose veins ran cold as ice, the thought of it seemed to cause at least some discomfort. “I do.”

“That was what the Comtesse brought up. It was a cruel, insensitive comment—intended to cause distress. I pity whatever township calls her its leader.” Snorting like an animal, Cullen paced his office. “Why does Josephine insist on inviting these people? ”

“Commander,” said Leliana, soft as she could. “Tell me more. There is more.”

Cullen nodded. “There is more. No doubt you’ve put the pieces together yourself. But since she first told me that the delegation were killed, I wondered if they, and the mages’ whose heads were sent to the First Enchanter... are one and the same.”

From the look on Leliana’s face, she had reached that very conclusion herself. “And that is why the Comtesse’s words wounded her so badly?”

“Naturally. The numbers match. Six sent to the Conclave, five sent to the First Enchanter.”

“The sixth being Lady Trevelyan.”

“She was the only survivor.”

And he could not let that be for nothing. She had trusted him with this. Her survival, for her own sake, had to be more than a matter of luck. It had to mean something.

Leliana paused. “Are you all right?”

Cullen did not know why she was asking. “I’m fine. Why?”

“It sounds... too familiar.”

Mages, Templars, Circles—the only survivor. Cullen shut his eyes, and shook his head. It was a thought his mind had, so far, protected him from. At least consciously. For he could not deny the quiet anger brewing beneath the surface, or the crawling sensation under his skin. Sick poetry played out, in the annals of time.

“I know,” he muttered. “I am trying to keep my focus elsewhere. I thought about telling her, at the time but—she was already too upset.”

“I think you made the right decision,” Leliana told him, adding gently: “if there is anything you need…”

“I know.”

But what he needed, right now, was a change of subject. Fortunately, she provided that: “Was her Ladyship able to tell you anything else?”

“Yes. A disparity, in the reports from Ostwick Circle. The Templars who killed the mages of the delegation were not their own.”

“What?”

Cullen half-expected her to have already figured it out. It was almost a relief that she hadn’t. Lady Trevelyan needed this. She needed to be the one to clear their names.

“The claim of responsibility appears to have been forged, to frame the delegation’s Templars,” Cullen explained. “Lady Trevelyan told me that, in fact, a rogue band attacked them—and the Ostwick Templars died protecting the mages.”

“But if that is the case, then Ostwick rebelled…” Leliana’s discomfort repeated tenfold, as the sheer wretchedness of the tragedy settled upon her.

“I know. Lady Trevelyan believes it is her fault,” Cullen said, causing Leliana to turn from horror to confusion. “The First Enchanter would have known she was missing from the dead, and would have been able to confirm this with her phylactery. She believes he was concealing it until she returned, so that he could hear the truth.”

Leliana hummed. “Possible. But if he was waiting, he should have told someone. It was his own fear that condemned Ostwick, not Lady Trevelyan’s survival.”

“Exactly. Though I said I would tell the Grand Enchanter, first. She will know how to break the news.”

Leliana nodded. “She wants it known?”

“She wants to absolve the Templars who died trying to save them,” Cullen told her. “I asked if we could send an agent to where it happened, see if we can find any evidence, remains—anything.”

“Doable. Where did it happen?”

“Sudton. The scouts weren’t far off.”

But this news brought Leliana no sense of ease. “The scouts said the villagers in Sudton claimed not to have seen the delegation.”

She did not need to tell him. He knew. Maker, he knew. And the thought of it troubled him greatly. Perhaps the villagers were lying out of innocence, out of a desire to be kept hidden from the wrath of the Chantry, or the Inquisition, or whoever. Perhaps. And yet...

“I am… worried that those Templars didn’t find them by accident,” Cullen confessed.

Leliana’s voice turned deadly. “We will find out.”

With a curt nod, Cullen made a request: “Tell me what you find. But make sure it stays discreet, and do not inform Lady Trevelyan. She has asked to be left out of this.”

“Of course. How was she, when you parted?”

“Better, I think, for having told someone.” Even if the memory had been painful, the relief of extracting it from herself, like pulling an arrow buried deep in one’s flesh, may have been worth the agony. “But… she was still troubled, naturally.”

“Poor woman. It is a lot to bear.”

Too much for anyone. He would know.

[oopsallmabari]

also quick question. if absolution is post-trespasser given the inquisition has disbanded. and cass seems to be at skyhold. and leliana seems to be at skyhold fairly regularly. does this mean we’re dealing with a divine vivienne? hmmm.

[wandagcre]

it's a trap (when you act like that) | wanda maximoff 🔞

(College!Perv!Best friend Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem Reader)

You cannot quite relate to the topic of pleasure. Being introverted and shy, your circle of people was limited, but you're more than grateful that Wanda - your best friend - is always there to help you out.

WARNING: corruption kink, pillow riding, first times, fingering, praise, wanda talking you through it - not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 4.2k

[perv!wanda series] | [masterlist]

For an hour, you settled on reading in comfortable silence with your best friend. Wanda laid on your lap comfortably, unlike you, she gave up skimming on her notes a few minutes ago. 

You giggle each time you catch her gaze on you. It was inquisitive and sometimes Wanda made silly faces. Thoughtful as ever, she’d pop in some candy in your mouth.

Her auburn hair grew out – instead, her brunette tresses were back. It was tempting for you the way they were sprawled out, wanting to comb them with your fingers and drop your notes – only having to listen to what stories your best friend would tell.

Lately, you noticed it’s been hard to be around Wanda. You can no longer hold her gaze than usual and you physically want to be closer to her – which was no problem because your best friend was always attentive and touchy with you. 

“Have you been working out? Look at these thighs,” You sharply inhaled as you felt fingertips, running feather-like on your skin. Wanda caught the act and it made her giggle softly. 

You shyly shook your head. “N-no. I haven’t.” 

She seemed not to buy your response. It’s the truth. Even if you indulged in some exercises, your workout routine was not strict about any type of weight lifting. Not like you had the time and all. In fact, it was one of the things that sometimes pulled you into your insecure thoughts, thinking that you’ve got an unattractive pair.

However, Wanda loves them as they were. She liked it when you got experimental with your wardrobe, changing it up with some short skirts that highlighted your legs and its curves. More so with your comfort in plain shorts, as it rewarded your best friend more of its exposure.

What Wanda didn’t like was winter and how it took away the sight of your gorgeous thighs. 

You insisted, “I’m serious! If you consider getting food from the top and bottom shelf of the fridge as squatting, then, my answer is yes.”

“Well, they look good to me. Keep it up.” Wanda playfully remarked. You chuckled lightly, not trusting your voice at the moment. “Want me to pull away?” 

Her voice was hypnotizing – insanely soothing. Almost like a balm, you’d say. Enough to make you re-read the damn sentence on your notes because you barely understood them. It doesn’t help that she kept her ministrations – tracing circular patterns that ascend to your inner thighs, causing goosebumps to wake.

“Took me by surprise, that's all. You can keep doing that if you want.”

“Is it relaxing?” Wanda whispered.

You shudder a bit and it made you scuffle in your position. “Kinda like you playing with my hair…”

Wanda was amused. You briefly wondered what was the joy in this – riling you up in some way. Were your reactions too entertaining? She had always been full of mischief, but lately, hanging out with your best friend made you…tense. It was not uncomfortable in a way that her actions burned, maybe they did, but in a different context. A realm you’ve never touched on – spurring you to confusion furthermore.

Her forefinger grazed over the space between your eyebrows. “What’s got you all so worked up, honey? You got this crease going on – you’re too tense. Wanna take a break?”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds nice.” You gave in. You couldn’t even process them anyway. 

You still appeared as bothered from Wanda’s point of view. She moved away from laying down between your thighs, looking at you who refused to meet her eyes. She was growing concerned. Had she overstepped this time?

Wanda was clueless. “Are you seeing someone?”

You looked incredulously at the woman.

“That’s out of the blue, Wands.”

“Can’t blame a girl for asking, (y/n/n). You’re usually reserved, I get that, but lately you seem to be always in deep thought? You know I can help, right?”

“I-I want to tell you but it can get weird.”

“Weird? Baby, we’ve known each other for years. How worse can it possibly get?” Wanda asked incredulously. Now she was concerned.

There’s nothing to hide. Wanda had a point, you thought. 

You whisper, “Lately, um. I-I’ve been trying to discover something.”

“Okay…” Wanda hummed, eyes focused on your lips.

You weren’t hesitant out of fear of being judged, but you didn’t know where your boundaries stood. 

Although, you remember how Wanda was so thoughtful that every time you bought some undies, she volunteers to come along and when you ask for her opinion, she carefully takes time to examine them. 

You remember her fingers tracing along the seams, making you turn around, asking for permission to touch so she can examine the material further around your butt and how it clung to your hips. They shouldn’t be tight, Wanda said.

“And it’s about pleasure. You know, that stuff.” You flail your hands. Can this get more embarrassing?

Meanwhile, Wanda was absolutely having the time of her life. She couldn't believe that this was happening. Of course, as the role of best friend, she would be very ecstatic to lead you.

She starts with a lilt of teasing in voice. “Sorry, honey, but there’s many things that can go around the topic of pleasure. I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

Poor you, didn’t even catch up to her teasing. You had enough.

“Touching the southern part!” You blurt out.

“Oh!”

“Yeah,”

“Huh.” Wanda looked inquisitive. Her head tilted to the side in faux wonder. In truth, she was thinking of ways to help you – defile you in this very bed – if she’s sly enough.

You groaned. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“See, now it’s weird. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no. It’s not weird. In fact, it’s normal to be curious about that. What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. I feel bad because I heard discussions about it – overheard some girls from my class. It’s all the hype I can’t get onto– I just don’t seem to get there–” 

You were rambling all things at once. Wanda had to process the thought of you touching yourself and getting frustrated, of course you wouldn’t know. You needed her – someone to get through it.

And Wanda was more than willing to step up.

With a glint in her eye, she suggests, “Want me to help you?”

Were you hearing things right? Surely, you misheard Wanda. Your mind couldn’t wrap the thought of it. How on earth can she help you? Maybe she’ll write them down or give you a video that wasn’t too explicit as porn. She knew that you hated them, after all. 

“You–won’t that be weird between us? And how?”

“Don’t even think about that. It’s me, honey. You can always count on me. Even about these types of situations. Do you trust me?”

You answered in a heartbeat. “More than anyone.”

“Good. What do you think, do you wanna get started?”

Right now? Your eyes widened. But there won’t be another time, you suppose. “Shit. Okay, yeah, sure.”

“We’ll take things slow, hm?” She bit her lip, trying to contain her excitement. Seeing you all bare for her – Wanda might as well cum at the mere thought of it. The way you nodded attentively made her stomach flip. “We’re going to test the waters. Since you’re having trouble with your fingers, we can do that later. Maybe we’ll try a different approach.”

Your cheeks burned at Wanda’s elaborate plan. “O-okay. I’ll listen to you.”

Wanda purses her lips and moves closer to you. You looked apprehensive, but not as much previously. Good.

“Have you ever heard about riding a pillow?”

“N-no…” You meekly answered. Porn was straight to the point. Too uncomfortable for your liking. It was penetration and done. You tried watching one or two, then that was it – you never thought about revisiting and looking further beyond that. “That’s a thing?”

Wanda, however, couldn’t help but scoot closer to you. How she was very elated to hear this – the woman couldn’t wait to introduce more things to you in the future, to be the one showing you the ropes of it.

“Yes it is. Some find it very rewarding. It’s so easy. ” She supplements.

Out of curiosity, you cannot filter yourself. “What about you… have you ever?”

“Yeah, I have.” She smoothly replied. Wanda was so self-assured, you can’t help but envy it a little. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you at every step of the way, honey. Exploration of what you like and how it works is nothing to be ashamed of.”

It did the trick for you; Wanda picked up a relief sigh coming out of you. She smiled, rubbing your thighs enough to create a comfortable warmth.

“Use my pillow – don’t worry, it’s easy to get them washed.” Your movements were slow and hesitant, continuously looking back and forth to Wanda’s piercing green eyes and to her pillow innocently hanging at the corner of her bed. Grabbing the item, she shoots you a proud smile. “Now, take your bottoms off for me.” 

For Wanda. You felt the heat creep from your stomach, riding in waves, up to your neck and whole face. She nudges you by nodding her head. You’re entirely sure that you’re beyond stunned right now. Discarding your shorts and underwear at the same time, you quickly throw them away and cross your thighs. Wanda’s words being uttered in an authoritative and raunchy manner was enough to make you wet – you didn’t want her to see the proof of that.

“So good. You’re doing so, so well baby.” Wanda licked her bottom lip in anticipation. “Now, flip that pillow by its seams – the edges are an important part of this. Then, just mount it.”

Your heart raced – you can’t believe that this was happening – you’re about to ride a pillow in front of your attractive best friend and she’ll talk you through your first orgasm. Right here in her own cramped bed and pillow. Doing as Wanda says, you spread your legs apart and mounted the pillow that stood by its edges. You gasped at the sensation; it was the softest thing your core has ever touched and it was slightly cold.

Looking back at Wanda, she seemed lost in your center – who wouldn’t be, given this rare opportunity? She always had a crush on you. But you didn’t even notice. Now, your friendship was taken on the next level, she thanked any deity out there for her patience. ((And her power over you right now? It was hard not to revel in that.))

You looked so adorable. Wanda could compare you to bambi right now, especially when you thought you were being sly. She saw the slick forming on your pussy from earlier as you were stripping. It was mouthwatering that it drove Wanda insane, prickling through each nerve of her body.

“What next?” You shakily asked. It was intimidating to have her eyes fixated on you – you couldn’t decipher what was going on behind those green eyes.

“Gyrate your hips. Back and forth, slowly.” Wanda orders with a low voice.

She watches you try to move back and forth at the pillow. Your pussy grazed on the fabric, making your eyes flutter at each soft contact, but it wasn’t enough for your pleasure nor Wanda’s.

She waddled closer and placed her hands firm on your hips. You bite the inside of your cheek, slowing down your motion out of surprise. The least you can do was have an ounce of dignity, you couldn’t moan in front of Wanda.

You sweet thing, Wanda thought. It was evident how desperate you were in your soft and messy thrusts. She was focused on how you moved your hips clumsily and your folds wetter, the pillow darkening as your arousal stained them.

She couldn’t take it much longer.

“You’re almost bouncing, honey. Do it like this – in sliding motions.” A moan inevitably escaped your lips as she pushed your hips alone, quite literally guiding you. Wanda shuddered in delight. “Want that pretty pussy of yours gliding in, get that friction working already. Don’t be afraid to put all of your weight in it. It’s much better, trust me (y/n/n).”

Pretty? Wanda even used it in an inappropriate context. It affected you more than you thought it would, that you felt a spurt of liquid drip from your core. Was it supposed to be like this? It was better than previously. Maybe it was truly your form that made a better change. You thrust your hips more and no longer hesitated upon resting your lower body’s weight. 

It was much better, just like Wanda had said.

Wanda’s bed creaked louder and louder. Of course, you were getting lost in your own needs – you didn’t even notice.

Your resolve was visibly breaking in front of Wanda which she absolutely relished on.

“Don’t let me stop you from moaning, baby. It’s all about your pleasure.” Wanda gently reassured you. It was all you needed apparently to let loose. “Thrust your hips harder.” She commands you. It sparked more need that travelled to your lower stomach down to your core. 

Was this the feeling people always blabbered about? Because you’re sure that you understood it now. It completely took over your senses like crazy.

Your hands placed in front for balance, you do as your best friend said. She truly knows her way around here. You haven’t felt this needy before. The friction she mentioned was settling in quickly and it was addicting against your pussy. You close your eyes and arch your back. The softness soon burned – a delicious contradiction – and it was enough to make you feel soaked.

“Just like that…” Her hips have never left yours and matched the rough sliding motions, grasping firm around your bare skin. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so great.” For me, Wanda wanted to add.

“M-mm, y-yes,” You whimpered and nodded dumbly. 

“You can also experiment with other motions – try what’s best for you. You can do circles with your hips,”

You immediately try as she recommended. Wanda had to stifle a giggle right then and there. Her headboard was starting to hit against the wall with your messy yet hard thrusts. It was obvious that the pleasure was brewing already, to which Wanda deviously smiled at. 

“Can I touch you down there? I bet it’s sticky already…” She whispered directly to your ear. You feel your best friend’s hot-white breath grazing satisfactory against your neck. It tickles! 

It wouldn’t hurt right? It was a part of the lesson, you suppose. Wanda knew better and you trusted her. “Y-yes. You can touch me, Wands.”

Without further ado, your best friend immediately went in to trace your outer folds. Fuck, you were so wet. You immediately coated her fingers, terribly addicting that she had to stop herself from plunging in so suddenly.

You continued to gyrate harder and it seems that there was the ‘spot’ that everyone was talking about. You lost track of it, but you felt how the pleasure intensified and moaned unadulteratedly, louder than before, that spurred Wanda to repeat the motion harder. With every glide against the pillow that you do, Wanda’s fingers were there at the edge to stimulate your throbbing core. Your breathing pattern grew heaving.

It was so, so addicting to have your slit pressed against the once innocent material and the friction it provided you–

“Stop there,” Wanda firmly said. You halt out of concern, rethinking whether you did something wrong. Your best friend, however, was pleased at your expression. 

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You gulped and weakly asked.

“No, honey. You did so well.” Wanda caressed your jaw and held you by the cheek with her clean hand. A pleased grin broke out of you to which Wanda duly noted. You liked praises. “That was the first lesson. You need something to stimulate you into the mood, it is very important. Now I’ll touch you first so you can mimic them later on. Is that okay?” Her hands descend to trail them at the center of your torso and stopped by the pelvic area.

This was going so well. You even forgot and thought how dumb it was to doubt Wanda and how she would embarrass you. It felt as though it was more than what you asked of her.

You wet your lips, “M-more than okay.” 

At this point, you valued Wanda's opinion more than ever.

“Good girl. We’ll get started.”

She swept away the crumpling notes and the stained pillow. Wanda almost moaned at the mere sight. It was like an animal had rudely rammed through her room.

Wanda stared at your half-lidded eyes that beamed at her words. Your hair was frazzled and barely can manage your own breathing. She caused this. And hell, she can’t wait to ravish you further. You felt reassured with her comforting smile and voice leading you on.

Your best friend grabbed you by the thighs to pull you closer to her. Wanda hummed in delight, a crooked smile on her lips appeared as you released a throaty moan again as she pushed them farther apart. 

“Now, listen carefully, (y/n/n). You have to tease your folds first and gather the wetness here,” Wanda sultry uttered and started to stroke your folds again and you helplessly nod. “It’s no trouble right now, considering how soaked you are.” She bit her lip and teased you by bringing up her fingers that were coated by your arousal. “Don’t hide them from me. It’s so pretty to see you like this, honey.” You arched your back for her and became flustered at Wanda’s words.

So warm and inviting. Wanda was flooded with glee, that she swooped in before anyone else could. With this, she also intends to be your last. No way in hell she can share you now after this.

You feel your cheeks and ears grow hot. You buck your hips for more as Wanda starts to stroke vertically and then random patterns at your soaked pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch the itch you’ve been longing for.

Your nostrils flared, “W-Wands, please..”

Wanda felt herself damp as you moaned her name. It was like music to her ears. She immediately changed your position, from your hips up to encouraging you to lay down flat on her bed and adjusting to settle on your side – her fingers not leaving the inside of your pussy.

“What do you need, baby?” She pressed a kiss on your ear. The gesture was meant to comfort you but you felt your body burning even more.

“I need you! It’s so sticky and tickling me- I don’t… Can you please h-help me?”

You were needy, just as Wanda wanted you to be. She riled you up enough that she even felt you drip more wetness as she plunged deeper inside of you and hit the spongy wall that her fingers could reach. You were more than compliant all throughout the session that it made her heart soar.

“You can also play with your breasts, it can add a better feel for you, baby.” 

You hesitantly reach for your pair and Wanda’s awaiting (needy) eyes were the final nudge for you. You wanted to do good. At this point, the lines were blurred; you didn’t know if it was to achieve orgasm or praise from your best friend.

Hands skimming underneath your shirt, you also pushed up your bra and experimentally squeezed the flesh. You groaned and eyes half-lidded again, threatening to shut.

Wanda was ecstatic that she had convinced you through this. Her motions never faltered – if anything it was more determined – as she watched you play with your tits. She thought it was cute how your underwear mismatched, her eyes caught the sliver of the pale material of your panties and your bra in the color of a colder tone. Were you tugging on your perked nipples? You were so eager and feeling comfortable enough. Wanda almost demanded you to take them off, wanting to see them. Another time.

She kept on stimulating your pussy and with the addition of you playing with your breasts – it was impossible to even control your moans anymore. 

You threw your arms quickly around Wanda’s neck and hands had wrapped themselves on her nape. Opposed to her firm and determined motions, you were gentle with how you caressed her skin. Wanda melted with no hesitation and now, her dorm room was reverberating with moans along you.

“It’s so sticky down here just as you said. Now,” Wanda’s own breathing was ragged and you had to force yourself to listen to her. “I’m going for your clit. It’s in the uppermost area, covered by your hood. Need to stretch you more-” She grabbed your hand and made them trace the areas for you to pinpoint them better. Fuck, Wanda was right. You were soaking wet. “That better?”

You agreed furiously, “Y-Yes, but–”

“I know, I know. You need more.” Wanda kept her ministrations inside of you, stretched you better that you had to let out a guttural moan. The spot was back and she kept hitting it now mercilessly. “Is that it? That feels much better?”

“Oh, yes!”

Your needy core greedily swallowed Wanda’s fingers and you had no idea. So drunk in pleasure. So lost without her. You’re so lucky that you had her. Wanda was just as intoxicated as you, her dilated green eyes drinking up the warmth of your pussy and your writhing sight.

Upon making eye contact, you didn’t know how to react to the revelation of how those green eyes unashamedly looked at you. It was similar as Wanda would when she was examining you while fitting clothes – only now they appeared more hungry and she’ll devour you.

And the thing is that you will gladly let her. Another needy moan was ripped out of you, disturbing your rail of thoughts as Wanda added her thumb to the stimulation that circled around your clit, you laid there helplessly clenching on the bed sheets while you were in Wanda’s grasp.

“W-Wands… Wands! I think I’m going to pee,” You shyly inform the woman and the heel of your palm pressed against her clavicle to push her away, Wanda only shushed you.

It was familiar to you, you think that you’ve reached this extent but you always stopped because you were very unsure of what follows after.

You felt dirty and it was embarrassing how you were bucking your hips to meet Wanda’s plunging in your core. It halted your mood a little and Wanda immediately picked it up, as your walls clenched harder around her digits.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Wanda’s sultry voice spurred your gears again. You huffed and absorbed her words. “Don’t worry about it, you’re going to cum. Just listen to my voice baby, you’re doing so great for me.” It is more than okay, you repeat in your head. Wanda’s making you feel so good you felt like you were going to combust.

Your muscles grew tense around the abdomen area and all over your thighs - you feel the knot forming in there. You are frenzied to chase it.

“Cum for me, come on, my good girl.”

Wanda was sweating now as you were, and she kept ramming inside of your warm walls, a final hard stimulation around your clit did its job to untangle the knot you were feeling. 

“Wanda!” A guttural moan was ripped out of you.

It was the most angelic sound that Wanda has ever heard.

Your eyes were still closed shut. Still whining as you fall apart, it was the most freeing experience you’ve ever encountered. It’s easy to say that you were beyond satisfied this time around. Your body was almost floating and your mind was lightheaded–you’re sure of it. Your legs were spasming a little and it was hard to ignore the vivid feeling of liquid oozing out of your core. It was never ending and Wanda was tempted to drink them all up.

“You looked so beautiful there, honey. I’m proud of you.” She cooed sweetly in your ears and pressed a kiss on your forehead that was glistening with sheer sweat. 

You grew hot at her words. “Oh–!”

The bed shook again and creaked as Wanda rode out your orgasm. The squelching sound was more vivid to your ears. You cried out loud, feeling that it was too much, held your best friend’s wrist and finally Wanda pulled her digits out. Before your best friend can calm you down–

An aggressive banging resounded against Wanda’s dorm walls.

“It’s midterms week! Stop fucking!”

You froze. You completely forgot where you were and how thin the dorm walls were, making you cover your face with your palm. Meanwhile, Wanda couldn’t be more bothered – she simply laughed at how evidently embarrassed you are, threading through her own hair with a familiar glint in her eyes.

“I don’t think I can face the people outside anymore,” You admit, groaning as you sober up from the high. 

Why did you have to be so loud? 

“Mmm. Lucky for you, we’re staying inside for a while. I got some other tricks I wanted to show you.” Wanda bit her lip, crimson also spreading through her cheeks as she closed the gap again between you.

She can compare your gaze to a deer caught in headlights. Always so attentive and compliant.

With a little more touch from your best friend, you felt the hotness starting again in your lower stomach, making it twitch with familiar need – your studying session long forgotten and replaced with a different lesson.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[simpforsolas]

So my biggest problem with Solas x Mythal isn’t that I’m “jealous” of their relationship or anything like that. In fact, I really like the concept of her being a toxic and abusive relationship he has to let go of to be able to move forward and find true happiness with the inquisitor.

My problem is that it cheapens Solas’s motivations and seems to make his only reasoning for tearing down the veil be loyalty to Mythal. It also, to me, downplays the significance of the inquisitor’s influence on him. This was disappointing because in Inquisition, we were introduced to Solas as this very wise, idealistic, and thoughtful person who cared deeply for his causes. Justice for Mythal was one of his motivations, but I never interpreted it as his main motivation. I thought his main motivation was always to make a better world and fix his mistakes.

I truly believe that he’s not wrong about some things. The veil IS a wound inflicted on this world. It was made by him; it’s not the world’s natural state. It’s falling apart and broken. It creates a class divide between mages and non-mages, and by separating spirits from the physical realm, it makes them more susceptible to corruption into demons and makes people scared of them. There are tons of instances through DAO - DAI where weak spots in the veil lead to mass demon possessions and death. It made a world where elves die instead of live forever, and where they either live in slums or as shadows of their former glory in the woods. But DATV didn’t address ANY of this. It painted Solas to be this lovesick pup whose motivation was purely emotion-based, and it didn’t help that this game didn’t go into Thedas’s socio-political climate so a new player wouldn’t understand that the world of Thedas is seriously messed up, and that Solas’s plan would resolve a lot of the issues in need of fixing.

The problem is, and always has been, the cost. Solas restoring the natural order of the world would cost thousands of lives, and destroy the current world and all the good it has to offer. In order to abandon this plan, Solas needed to not only be released from Mythal’s service, but to let go of the world of the past. He needed to acknowledge that the world he loved is gone, that a new world that he also loves has taken its place, and that it deserves a chance to live. It’s sort of implied that he goes through this shift in belief in Trespasser, but it’s not enough at the time, and that’s okay.

Anyway, with all this in mind, this is how I’m choosing to interpret Solas’s entire redemption arc. Solas did have his reasons to tear down the veil that he passionately believed in, but through his interactions with the inquisitor and rook, the only reason that truly remained was that he didn't want to fail Mythal. They changed his perspective on the world, and showed him that it’s a world worth preserving, even if it’s different. He didn’t want to do what he had to do, and by the end of DAI and/or Veilguard, the only thing keeping him tied to his course was duty to Mythal. So she has to free him to allow him to move on.

However. If Mythal had released him from his service at the beginning of inquisition, because Solas hadn’t gained any affection for the new world, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been like "cool i'm doing this anyway because I want to.” Changing his course required two things: having his heart changed by the inquisitor, and Mythal allowing him to move on. Unfortunately I feel like the game is a little sloppy with this and makes it feel like freedom from Mythal is all that matters, but my dear friends, she is not. It was a team effort all around, and Solas’s redemption would not have been possible without our beloved inquisitor. 💜

[takamimami]

Can you do fluff prompt one for Luffy?

Hi anon, of course, I can! I love writing fluff for Luffy, so I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do!! :3 It's a lil short, but it's sweet enough to make up for it I think <3

Luffy x GN!Reader - SFW - "How come you always end up under my blanket?” STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: Fluff; reader is scared of thunderstorms, luffy cuddles will fix anything tbh :3, --- word count 1k

Thunder rumbled through the Sunny as a harsh wave rocked the ship, causing you to shift in your bed as you desperately tried to get some sleep. You’d known a storm was coming, Nami had made a point to warn you of such, and still all of your precautions proved useless as you lay awake staring up at the ceiling.

You groaned as you tugged your blanket over your head, trying to clear your head as you felt another rumble of thunder shake the ship, startling you upright so that you were sitting in your bed. You were too afraid to admit your fears to anyone besides Nami, but she was likely in the crow’s nest as it was her turn for nightwatch. You peered over to the tea cup on your nightstand, hoping another would settle you as you slipped on some slippers and padded your way over to the door of your quarters.

You peaked your head out to see if anyone was on deck, only a cold wind greeting you as you stepped out into the night. The rain was light, thank goodness, as you padded your way down to the kitchen, turning on the stove to boil yourself another cup of tea.. A loud crack of thunder shook you to your core, and you nearly knocked the tea cup off the counter you had grabbed for yourself from how hard you jumped. Cursing yourself for your irrational fear, you hurriedly pour the boiling water into the cup, dunking in the tea bag and shuffling back out onto the deck. You notice Zoro and Luffy sitting near the bow of the ship with Sanji standing near them, all of them seeming deep in conversation and oblivious to your presence. You take the opportunity to slip below deck and towards the captain’s quarters, knowing from prior experiences that the thunder tends to not be so loud down here.

You note that Luffy’s room is seemingly untouched, considering that he usually opts to sleep in the men’s quarters with everyone anyways, and you quietly pad inside and slip under the thick blanket atop the bed, sipping at your tea as you lean back against the headboard, bracing yourself for another crack of thunder. It doesn’t come for some time, and the sound is barely audible as you loosen a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

As you finish your cup of tea, you snuggle down into the mattress and nuzzle the blanket around you tighter, the faint citrus scent of Luffy still looming on the infrequently used sheets. You feel your eyes grow heavy as you begin to drift off to sleep, but the sound of footsteps down the hall has your eyes shooting open, pulling the covers up over your head as if that was going to keep you concealed from whoever was approaching.

Sure enough, the door to Luffy’s room swings open, and you hear feet approach the bed and stop directly next to it before the blanket is tugged from over your head, revealing your captain staring down at you, signature smile replaced with a look of confusion as he surveys you in his bed.

“Hiding from the storm?” he asks flatly.

You huff out a sigh in response, “No.” You pull the blanket down further and shift in the bed, sitting up to face him as he keeps his inquisitive gaze on you.

“Then how come you always end up under my blanket when theres a thunderstorm?” he quips back, a hint of teasing in his voice as a smile starts to curl on his lips.

“I don’t always end up here,” you begin to defend yourself, but a particularly loud roll of thunder echoes down the hall, causing you to whip your head in the direction of the sound.

“Well this is the third storm in a row I’ve found you in here,” Luffy retorts, and you furrow your brow as you look back to him.

You hadn’t realized the last two times you’d come down here that Luffy had caught you, and he’d never said anything about this until now. You have half a mind to ask him why he hadn’t said anything until now, but you were in his room after all, so you weren’t necessarily in a position to do any questioning of your own.

“I… I’ve been scared of them since I was little,” you stutter, looking down at your hands as you admit your fears to him. “I know its childish, but I just can’t help it.”

Luffy reaches and places his hand over one of your trembling ones, pulling your gaze up to him as he offers you a warm smile.

“It’s not childish,” he reassures you, squeezing your hand as he huffs out a laugh, “Have you seen half the stuff Usopp is afraid of? I think he’s got you beat by a long shot.”

You giggle at the dig at his sniper, your shoulders relaxing slightly as he reaches around you to pull you into a reassuring hug.

“Well if being down here helps, you’re more than welcome to stay,” he croons, kicking off his sandals and stretching an arm out to pull back the blanket further, “I could use some company anyway.” 

He offers you a wink before climbing into bed behind you, tugging the blanket over the both of you before pulling you tight to his chest. You let the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep as the ship sways with the harsh waves of the storm outside. 

You sleep for a while before a loud crack of thunder startles you awake, pulling you from your peaceful dream as you try to sit up in bed. You’re halted by Luffy’s strong arms, which wrap tighter around you as you settle back into his chest.

“It’s alright,” he mumbles, still half asleep as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “I’ve got you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at the gesture, and a smile curls onto your lips as you snuggle back into the blanket, feeling safe in the arms of your captain as you drift back to sleep.

Maybe now you’d look forward to storms if it meant an excuse to have Luffy hold you like this.

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[bunji-enthusiast]

ahhhhh, im.not the one who requested it buy I love the oneshot about catnap with the child he took care of after the hour of joy because of the kitty thing. Even though I'm not the one who requested it, is it possible I can request something in the same premise of it. Where catnap after taking care of the child for a long time is starting to run out of the food reserves the factory had, and he has to find other ways to feed them. Through feeding them like how he feeds the smiling critters in the playhouse on "meat" from you know who, or forcing the child to leave so they have a chance to find food. But catnap being catnap wants to keep her there despite so decides on the first choice, even though he had let the child get attached to dogday.

(I'm sorry this may show up on your ask box twice I ment to not send this anonymously but I did by accident so I wanted to correct that, anyways thank you for your absolutely amazing writing remember to take breaks when you need to and stay amazing❤️)

Seeker

Note || awe, no worries. Happy to see you in!

WC || 1,034

Sypnosis || emotions are scarce, food is too. It seems factory is getting to everyone, CatNap is left with unprecedented levels of risks.

The conditions of the environment were no doubt not very liveable ones, so he had tried his best to adapt to the conditions so that you may be able to live in his room comfortably or even walk anywhere else in Playcare. Even beyond the whole place in any case, he just wasn’t sure what to do anymore. CatNap was at an odds end within himself at deciding what to do, what would be best for you.

Should he force you to leave the factory in hopes you find food? No, you’d just get lost and scared, no doubt manhandled by an incompetent people that may pass you by in the process. You were just a kid, lonely and in need of companionship and being surrounded by people you could truly trust.

Though the colorful disposition and creepy toys in this place far proved the idea he needed to keep you safer more often. Knowing that you may as well get attached to some of the other toys you come across, CatNap was admittedly worried. 

You were often inquisitive, curious to find everything your attention was captured by. That wasn’t of any good in his honest opinion, but he had to remain with a steady and cool head. So that when it may be, he can take care of you more properly.

CatNap didn’t want you to leave, he had become far too accustomed to your presence. Hearing your joyful laughs and giggles, staying so hopeful and strong in your own unique way. You certainly brought on a joyful aspect to his lonely life, even with all the others he had punished for being heretics. 

DogDay, oh yes, he had to take some chunks from him. That was the last thing he wanted to do with all that has been said and done. But he truly had no other option, but his worst thought being as how you began to get attached to DogDay.

In retrospect however, he will admit that you can be cute and quite charming for just being a child at most. 

“Mr…” You began, the crayon stilling to a stop. DogDay perked his head up, though the effort to move is indeed extraneous on his war-torn body (both literally and figuratively). “Hm, sweetheart?” He spoke out, his voice spooking you a little bit as he hadn’t spoken very often. You didn’t expect him to actually answer you or at all for that matter, but DogDay seemed kind to you. You wanted to get to know him at least, but to him, he was slight afraid – on your behalf, you didn’t know better on a lot of things. Especially the vying point is how his legs had been taken from him, most of it being fed to the smaller toy versions of the smiling critters and you too. Did you even know what you were eating?

You hesitantly stood up, leaving your paper and crayon to abandon. “Why are you chained up like that?” You asked with a tinge of nervousness, almost afraid as if you were going to incur some sort of angry emotion from the large dog. If he could truly move his own gaping black mouth, he would’ve been frowning right now. DogDay was concerned for you, as to why you were put in this situation. 

“I am… just not a very good person, sweetheart.” His gentle tone carried an aura reminiscent of a father if you ever heard one. Your eyes were wide with curiosity, knowing it was okay to continue speaking with him the way you were. “But, you don’t look bad to me. You're even nice to me!” Your innocent tone had brought back a fragmented memory for DogDay, he chuckled with a warm spell about the air.

DogDay let out an audible sigh, “Not all things are as they seem, CatNap included.” His words incited a bout of curiosity in the flames of your stomach. Now this was something you needed to understand, “Stretchy kitty?” DogDay nodded, a chuckle escaping him once more. You simply were the cutest thing he had seen in a long while. 

“I.. would say he’s not, kind or gentle as you would think him to be.” DogDay was nervous, irradiated by a different presence he had quickly taken notice of, but had continued on anyway. “CatNap, had uh, punished me Sweetheart. Wasn’t nice to his god.” 

‘God?’ you thought, “what is that Mr?” You spoke out in reply, sitting down and closer next to him then you were previously. You were rather oblivious to the presence of such an omniscient aura, menacing enough to be sure. DogDay wasn’t sure how to explain the term finely, but you were curious, wanting to satiate that curiosity by always asking questions. 

You deserved to have every single one of them answered, no matter how silly they may seem. DogDay had hoped the best for you, he had gotten rather attached to you. In spite of CatNap’s many warnings to not talk to you or even glance in your direction, not wanting him to bore your head with lies and spiteful attempts to turn you against him in any way possible. Well, DogDay had felt quite an intense hatred against CatNap right at this very moment, and found the courage to move on forward with his words. No matter what may happen to him, “God is uh, let’s say a very inspirational person… powerful even. But he can be a hypocrite too.” He nodded, tilting his head as if he was speaking through his movements.

“Sweetheart, you follow your own heart alright?” DogDay spoke hopefully, hoping to see that his words had gotten to you a little bit. “Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” You nodded with a fire in your eyes he hadn’t expected from you, but this a youthful you, easily impressionable and inspired. DogDay will forever be hopeful for you, and grateful he ever had gotten to speak to you in the past few days anyway.

A distant crying was unheard of, a lonely digressable cat, heart heavy and hurt. He began to cry silently, tears are there yet there are none.

I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Drakel behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Bruce turns down a side hall and heads for the metal door at the end of it. He still hasn’t said a word since they got here aside from the comment about codenames, and continues in the fine Bat-tradition of not telling them a single friggin’ thing they might need to know as he taps two fingers against the keypad next to the door. It slides open silent and smooth, and Tim tries not to wince as Stud keeps chattering excitedly at Cat and Star and Red while flitting back and forth between Star and Red, Cat still lounging casually in his arms and all three of them seeming entertained by him. 

Tim really, really wishes he understood what the hell was going on there. 

“What the hell,” a baffled-sounding voice says from the other side of the doors, and a Pocket squeaks in surprise. Tim can’t see past Bruce filling up the doorway, but the voice sounded like Green Arrow’s. 

“Bats, please explain why you have a Superman Pocket now,” Green Lantern’s voice says, and Stud startles and looks through the doorway himself, given he’s got a better vantage point than Tim does. “Which literally no one is surprised that you do, for the record, just that it took this long.” 

“They’re not mine,” Bruce replies matter-of-factly as he sweeps through the door, and Tim can finally see past him. The room ahead looks like a meeting room, and it’s mostly dominated by the large circular table in the center of it where Green Arrow, Green Lantern, and the Flash are all sitting with their respective Pockets. “Where’s Wonder Woman? I need to speak with her. The rest of you too.” 

“No idea,” Lantern answers with a matter-of-fact shrug, his Saffie peering curiously at Stud from his shoulder and chittering inquisitively. “She was here this morning, but some friend of hers called and needed her for something in Gateway, so she switched off monitor duty with Hawkwoman and headed back planetside.” 

“I think Canary said something about her calling something in earlier?” Arrow says, scratching at his jaw as he glances towards his Singsong, who’s leaning forward curiously too and making melodic little crooning noises at Stud. “But she didn’t talk to her herself and we were more concerned with digging through the news on that whole bizarre mess in Metropolis, so I don’t actually know what–oh, okay, so you brought up half the belfry today, huh.” 

“Well, only the half of us,” Dick says with a grin, Flash appearing in front of him in an electric rush and the two of them knocking fists lightly in greeting as Flash’s Charger chirps a greeting of her own and peers up assessingly at Stud. Stud jumps like he was startled by the suddenness of Flash’s appearance–which, also weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown again. Flash can’t have been going that fast outside a combat or crisis situation that Stud’s own superspeed wouldn’t clock him. Though in retrospect . . . 

Does Stud actually have Superman’s powerset? He’s been flying, obviously, and he’s clearly more than strong enough to carry another Pocket around without even noticing their weight, but that’s not actually all that much, in terms of superpowers. Flight and enhanced strength are pretty basic ones, in fact, and Stud hasn’t even shown particularly impressive levels of either. 

Shapeshifting is less basic, but whether Stud has that or not is a whole different question anyway. 

Tim . . . probably should not have assumed that Stud would have Superman’s powerset, come to think. Or definitely should not have assumed Stud would have Superman’s powerset, more like. 

“Is the guy yours, man?” Flash asks skeptically, and Dick snorts. 

“Yeah, no, Red’s still annoyed over Star popping up, don’t think she’d forgive me getting a third Pocket,” he says wryly. “Robin woke up to him about six and a half hours ago.” 

Flash–pauses. Pauses for what is a very noticeable length of time, coming from a speedster. So do Green Arrow and Green Lantern. 

“That is a whole-ass adult man,” Flash says frankly, visibly raising an eyebrow even behind his cowl, and Stud looks briefly conflicted but then just scowls at him. “So, respectfully: what the hell?” 

“Yeah, we’re still figuring that out,” Dick says with a sigh and a shrug. Charger twitters up at Stud, who startles again and then abruptly abandons Cat on his shoulder and zips back behind Tim and–hides, again, for lack of a better word, same as he did when she and Star and Red were sitting down at the table and expecting him to come over and sit with them. Given that Charger is just as pretty as–well, not Star, because Starfire is in a whole league of her own, frankly–but is at least as pretty as Cat and Red, it’s still not a reaction Tim actually understands. 

Though there’s a lot of things about Stud that Tim doesn’t understand so far, obviously. 

[vigilskeep]

I was stalking your blog when I saw some comments I can't find the answer for. Can I ask why you hate Celene? It's been a while since I played inquisition, but I remembered talk of her as fairly glowing. Is it the vague breakup with Briala? Is it that she's Orlesian (derogatory) and/or responsible for horrible stuff the state did, or what? Is it book stuff?

To be clear you have my sword either way but I'd like to know what we're fighting against (re: editing my worldstate).

her breakup with briala is significantly less vague in the book the masked empire, which covers a lot of celene, briala, and gaspard backstory

HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD: after promising briala could try to resolve an elven rebellion peacefully, when celene’s political reputation needed a rescue, celene set fire to the alienages of halamshiral, killing countless elves, and sparing only briala, who she had arrested by the chevaliers. of her plans for briala afterwards, she says: “It would have been a locked suite in the palace for a few years, nothing more! It would have changed nothing for us.” and then when briala says, okay fuck that, what about the people you burned, she adds something horrible about briala having the “luxury” to mourn while the poor empress who murdered the people in the first place doesn’t. at the very end of the book, briala also discovers that it was celene all along who had murdered her parents for political gain, and this happened when they were much younger, when celene was in the process of becoming empress, iirc. celene let briala serve her in all things, kill for her, risk life and limb for her vision of maybe letting an elf or two into orlais’ universities, wake her up every morning by pouring her a cup of tea and preparing her daily gown while celene lovingly reminisces about all the cruel things about briala having dark hair instead of blonde (read: about briala being a woman of colour) that celene herself used to say as a child before recognising the “value” of briala’s loyalty... and the whole time, she had murdered briala’s parents to get ahead. because she decreed it was worth it, for her vision of the empire

i really wish they had covered more of this during wicked eyes & wicked hearts, though i suppose in several ways it makes sense for the inquisitor not to be able to learn all of this. still, they diminish a lot to make the choices seem like roughly equal options, and to make reconciling briala and celene viable. (you’d think at least the alienage burnings would be public knowledge? iirc they really censor what briala can tell you to make it sound like a personal lovers’ spat and not what it is, or like the arrest was the main problem or something.) it does make me feel a little ill. thankfully, celene can still die!

anyway even in dai you’d think if she was as good an empress as they keep telling you she is, there wouldn’t be, you know... a civil war on? save yourself from assassination then if you’re soooo good at the game lmao. go on we’re all waiting

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Five ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Five Warnings: profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Five]

You stared at Lute blankly for a minute, feeling the expression of dread creeping onto your face, before stiffening and putting on the most blank, stoic look you could muster as you straightened your posture and stepped aside to let her in. 

She glanced around your neat and tidy living room, before hooking her helmet onto the coat stand. “Real fucking clean, huh?”

“Hmm?” You side eyed her helmet which was teetering dangerously and readjusted it, which made her snap around and glare at your fingertips which touched the headpiece. You shrank away as she fixed it herself. “Yes, I keep my living space clean. Thank you for noticing.”

Lute rolled her eyes. “Such a fuckin’ goody-two-shoes,” she muttered, as if you couldn’t hear her, stalking further into the living room. 

“Sit,” you said, gesturing at your spotless couch. She sat down, pushing aside the plush cushions, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Got any alcohol?”

You stared at her. “No, I don’t. Sorry.” 

Lute stared at you in shock, before it morphed into a strange type of contempt, and then back to cold indifference. “‘Course you don’t.”

“You said you needed to talk to me?” You forced the words out through your teeth. She scowled and stood up, stepping towards you.

“I did. This won’t take long.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, as if being around you was the most tiring experience she could have had. 

“Well?”

Her eyes snapped open, sharp and inquisitive. You clenched your fists. “Why do you go down to Hell every year?” She hissed, voice accusing. You stepped back, frowning. 

“For the experience,” you said slowly. She laughed harshly.

“Experience,” she laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard.” The laughter dropped from her face almost immediately. “Be real. You go down to Hell, and then just- fly off. Alone. Doing God knows what. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re up to something.”

Your mind raced, searching desperately for an action plan. “I’m not up to anything, Lute. I don’t have things to hide. Unlike some people.” She scowled. “I go off alone because I prefer the company of no one. Understood?”

“Still haven’t said why-“

“Because,” you hissed, “I find Hell interesting. And frankly, things get repetitive. You and Adam said it yourself- the extermination is entertainment. So let me be ‘entertained’ in peace, and stop throwing around ridiculous accusations with nothing to back them up.” 

Lute opened her mouth to talk, and you could almost sense the onslaught of curses coming your way. You cut her off.

“Plus, who do you think Heaven will listen to? Me, or…” you raked your eyes judgingly up and down her tense figure. You didn’t need to finish your sentence for her to understand what you were saying.

Lute seemed to sag a little as your words sunk in, then sniffed. “Fine. Miss goody-two-shoes’s way too fucking boring to have anything interesting going on for her anyway.”

“Close the door on your way out,” you said coldly.

Lute stalked across the living room, snatching up her helmet in a flurry of angered movement. She froze at the door and turned. 

“I will find out.”

The door slammed in her wake. 

You let out a long, slow breath, feeling like you were about to collapse as you made your way to the kitchen table, dropping down in front of it and laying down your head to rest, screwing your eyes shut.

Please God don’t let this spiral any further. Please please please-

You opened your eyes. God wouldn’t help you in this. God would root for your downfall. You shuddered and pressed the stone on your bracelet. 

Buzz.

A few seconds ticked by, the air thick with no other noise other than your clock. 

Buzz. The stone lit up in reply. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled. 

♱♱♱

The short librarian behind the desk seemed to blink with each eye individually as you expressed your need for a book on Morse Code to her. Eventually she wheezed, squeezing her way out of the chair and lumbered over to a section at the back. 

“This is the section with Human stuff in it,” she said slowly, staring at you as if you were stupid. It was clear she had a only vague grasp on what she was talking about. “You’ll find it here.” And then fluttered away without another word. 

You stared at the shelf, at a loss. 

“Need help?”

You turned. “Emily.”

“[name]!” She hugged you. You coughed as her wings attacked your face with a barrage of feathers. “How was your weekend?”

“It was fine.” You pulled back, holding her at arm's length.

“That’s nice. So. What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you here in the library before.” 

You traced a covering of dust on the spine of a book, drawing squiggles in it. “Do you frequent this place?”

“I do. I know this library like the back of my hand. Inside and out.”

“Are there any books on Morse Code?”

She seemed to freeze. You stared at her blankly. “What?”

“Nothing, just… why?”

You frowned. “Because I’m bored, and it’s nice to learn new things.”

“Right. Take a seat over there and I’ll join you soon.”

“Oh… Kay?”

You did as she said, and watched her flutter around the bookshelves for a while, disturbing the probably centuries-worth of dust while a small pile of books in her hand continued to grow. 

Moments later the pile landed in front of you with a small thump. 

“I-I only really needed one, Emily,” you stammered as she began to sift through the hefty books. 

“Oh it’s fine. The rest of these are for me.” A dusty tome was pushed across the table to you. The cover was in faded gold: ‘Human Inventions- Morse Code Dictionary.’

“Thanks,” you managed to utter. Emily smiled. You opened the thick cover, sending a cloud of dust straight into your face and making you sneeze. 

For a few minutes, the two of you read in silence. 

“By the way,” Emily murmured. You glanced up from the pages. “Adam was looking for you.”

“Charming,” you said sarcastically.

“He had flowers,” Emily continued carefully. 

“How delightful.” 

“[name], are you not even going to give him a chance?”

You stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

Emily shrugged nervously. “I’m not exactly a big fan of him either, but…you have to admire his perseverance, is what I’m saying. It’s been three years-”

“Three years of not taking a hint,” you snapped. Emily looked taken aback. You sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “I’m sorry.” You stood up, your chair raking across the floor. “I need to go.”

Snatching the book up to your chest, you hurried out. 

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay tuned!

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[anneapocalypse]

On blood magic and the Inquisitor.

I think there is a lot to be said about how Inquisition handles the topic of blood magic, with regard to the Inquisitor and Hawke and the mage rebellion, and there are valid criticisms with regard to narrative framing and role-playing limitations.

However I also think that any discussion of blood magic in Inquisition and the available specializations for a mage Inquisitor is very incomplete without acknowledging that necromancy is considered blood magic in the south.

Tevinter, so far as we can tell from what we know, just straight up doesn't consider it blood magic (hence Dorian seeing no contradiction in practicing it while vocally opposing blood magic), and Nevarra seems to get away with not considering it blood magic, despite being nominally under the southern Chantry, for political reasons (and probably also geographic reasons). But anywhere south of that? Necromancy is blood magic. The first two games, set in Ferelden and Kirkwall, strongly associate animating corpses with blood magic. From the southern point of view, this is and has always been blood magic.

A necromancer Inquisitor is a blood mage. Mary Kirby agrees. Companions and advisors react accordingly. Here's a compilation if you're interested in seeing them all, but Josephine's reaction is especially telling. Keeping in mind that Josephine is a seasoned diplomat who is well-traveled, has a multicultural education, and understands the nuances of this situation better than most, she says this:

Outside Nevarra, most people think the Mortalitasi practice death rituals… and sacrifices…

To my ear, it's pretty clear what Josie means here. Because she is a diplomat, she is not coming right out and accusing the Inquisitor of being a blood mage, but let's be real, in this context what else could she possible mean by that ominous "and sacrifices..." She is making it clear to the Inquisitor that they are creating a PR nightmare for her, and goes on to say that she'll be keeping this as quiet as possible.

On the other end of the spectrum we have the reactions from Sera and Blackwall, the most common of your companions. Blackwell openly disapproves of the whole practice. Sera is clearly unnerved personally, but she also says:

It's scary to anyone smart enough to think for a second. You shouldn't be scary. You're the Inquisitor.

As someone who's vocal about the interests of little people, she's also pretty clearly trying to warn the Inquisitor that this is a practice that will alienate common people who are already frightened of magic generally.

From what I could find, it seems Cullen doesn't have a reaction to this specialization, which seems like a real dropped ball! I think that his reaction out of anyone could have really cemented how this practice is viewed in the south. (Edited to add: Cullen does have a line in a war table op where he says, "I can accept that necromancy is not blood magic," with seeming reluctance, but still strongly disapproves of the practice being used on fallen Inquisition soldiers.)

As for why there are no meaningful consequences for this, and why no one says the quiet part out loud, well, I think this comes back to the fact that everyone needs the Inquisitor whether they like them or not, and whatever shady shit they might be doing, not closing the rifts is undoubtedly worse. Not only that, the Inquisition has some major allies among northerners, so while it wouldn't do for the Inquisitor to be known as a blood mage in the south, it also wouldn't do to insult those allies by openly condemning necromancy.

In some ways, it is a shame that this aspect of the Inquisitor's character constrains other characters' reactions to them, to a degree. I think it would be fun to get more heated reactions from your companions for this specialization. But I can see why it's limited by the game's basic premise, as are many things, which is itself a whole other discussion beyond the scope of this post.

Anyway, the Inquisitor can be a blood mage, of a sort! Just a sort where nobody calls them that to their face.

[eskawrites]

It’s 1979, and every day, Barb wears a dark purple bracelet around her wrist. It’s pretty, although a bit more basic than what Nancy would normally wear—just a simple band of woven fabric, and a little star charm dangling from the middle.

“Where’d you get it?” Nancy asks her one day out of the blue. She does that sometimes—asks people things without any lead up. Her mom tells her she’s inquisitive. Her dad just says she asks too many questions.

Barb never seems to mind. Over the last few weeks of getting to know each other, there’s never been a question that Barb isn’t happy to answer.

This one seems to make her sad, though. She holds her arm up and twists her wrist a little, watching the charm catch the light.

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” she says. Nancy is old enough to recognize the twinge of jealousy for what it is, but she isn’t quite old enough to understand why it’s there.

“With who?” she asks anyway.

This time Barb does hesitate. She looks around the middle school cafeteria, but they’re the only ones sitting at this end of the table, and the buzz of students is loud enough no one can really hear them even if they decide to pay them any mind. Not that they ever would. Nancy and Barb tend to fly under the radar.

“You know Robin Buckley?” Barb says, lowering her voice.

Nancy shrugs. She’s heard the name. It’s a small school, after all.

“She has the other one,” says Barb. “My parents took us to Indianapolis a few summers back. A lady at the mall was making them. I got purple for her favorite color. She has pink for mine.”

“And the star?” Nancy asks. She reaches out without really thinking about it, holding the little charm in her fingertips.

Barb smiles. “We used to stay out in the park for hours after dark, watching the stars. She knows all the constellations, and a bunch of old stories about them. She knows a ton of stuff like that. She’s pretty cool.”

“You guys don’t hang out anymore,” Nancy feels the need to point out. But Barb just shrugs.

“Yeah. We had all different classes last year, and I guess we just drifted apart. I say hi when I see her in the halls sometimes, but we just…don’t really talk anymore.”

“Oh.” Nancy lets the charm go. Barb lowers her arm and picks up her fork again. “We could get friendship bracelets.”

Barb’s eyes light up. “I saw some charms and stuff at Melvald’s the other day. We could make some!”

“Let’s do it,” Nancy decides. “When you spend the night Friday, we’ll ask Mom to take us to Melvald’s.”

“Deal.”

-

It’s 1983, and Nancy has a pink bracelet—with a pen charm, not a star—that she keeps in a shoebox of all of Barb’s things.

She only pulls it out and looks at it when she knows it’s a bad idea; when she’s already one bad thought away from breaking, and she holes herself up in her room so she can push herself recklessly over the edge.

She takes the bracelet in her hands and runs her fingers over the soft, time-worn threads. Pink for Barb’s favorite color. Barb had a soft, sky blue for hers. She thinks about that bracelet, dangling around Barb’s wrist while she drove them to Steve’s house, tied to her still, soaked in blood and rot as she decays in the Upside Down.

Nancy tucks the bracelet into her pocket. If Barb’s association with Nancy led her to her death, then Nancy’s association with Barb can mark her until the day she dies.

-

It’s 1985, and when a new girl walks up with Steve, Dustin, and Erica, looking terrified and in shock, the first thing Nancy sees is a pink bracelet around her wrist.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy asks.

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

But that’s not the answer. She’s not Robin who works with Steve. She’s Robin who carries stories of the constellations in her head and memories of Barb on her wrist. Robin, with a pink bracelet and a star charm that, quite frankly, looks ridiculous among the leather bands and thick rings she wears.

The group sits down once they’re finally all together. They exchange stories and make a plan, and all the while, Robin sits off to the side, on her own.

Nancy thinks about Barb sitting on her own by Steve’s pool, her gaze turned down and her shoulders stiff around her ears. She watches Robin curl up and hug her knees to her chest, and that damn pink bracelet is all she can see.

-

It’s 1986, and Robin complains every step of the way as Nancy wrangles her into a blouse and skirt.

“You should lose the rings,” Nancy tells her. “They’re unprofessional.”

“Gee, thanks,” Robin mutters.

“You can borrow some of mine if you still want to wear them.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pulls the rings off one by one, dropping them onto Nancy’s desk with small, satisfying clunks. She shakes out her hands when she’s done, and Nancy watches that star charm bounce back and forth along its soft pink band.

Robin notices her looking. She covers the bracelet with her hand and scowls.

“The bracelet stays. I’m not taking it off.”

“That—that’s fine.” Nancy thinks she should say something else—she’s not sure how they’ve gone this far without talking about it—but she can’t stop staring at it.

Robin’s shoulders slump. Her grip on the bracelet shifts and she runs her fingers over the charm, her expression turning sad.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I just—I got this because of—”

“Barb.”

Robin meets her eyes.

“She told me,” Nancy says. “She—she still wore yours.”

And for the first time, it occurs to her that Barb was wearing a purple bracelet that night, too. That there has always been a part of Robin Buckley rotting in the Upside Down along with her, along with Nancy.

Maybe they were all doomed, intertwined, forsaken from the start.

“A purple bracelet,” Nancy says. “And a star charm. Because you liked watching the stars together. She said you knew all the constellations. She said—”

Robin’s arms are around her the second her voice breaks. She hugs her close, and Nancy swears she can feel that star charm pressing through her shirt.

-

It’s 1989, and Robin is moving box after box from her house with Steve into Nancy’s apartment.

It takes all day to get her clothes in the closet and her desk into the second bedroom they’ll use as an office and her frankly excessive collection of tapes onto the bookshelf in the living room. By the time dinner rolls around, they’ve both decided everything else is a job for tomorrow, or the day after, or next week.

But before they go to bed that night, Robin digs through a box of photo albums and picture frames to pull out a small, black shadowbox. She holds it carefully in her hands and walks over to where Nancy stands by the bookshelf. Nancy takes it from her with a soft, sad smile and reaches up to place it on the shelf. She feels Robin’s hand on her waist, and she steps back to tuck herself into her side.

They both look up at two pink bracelets, a pen charm and a star charm, hanging safely side by side.

[diazsdimples]

Wasn’t sure how mean I was gonna be today but I can’t resist Alfie do lots of Alfie sentences please and thank you 😘💜

👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼

And one more for luck:

👨‍🍼

Here’s the old Alfie art for motivation 💜

39 Alfie sentences!!! Your wish is, as always, my command. And I LOVE the Alfie art, thank you so much 🥺 you get two bonus sentences for that 😊

“Anyways!” he interjects before either of them can come up with another reason to roast him. “Tommy and I actually had reason behind coming and finding you.” “Ah, are you looking for sage advice from your elder? What can I help you two with?” Bobby sets down the tea towel he’d been holding and places both hands on the counter, an expectant but friendly look on his face. “Well actually, we more wanted to ask something of you,” Tommy explains. “Or, Evan did.” Bobby’s gaze settles on Buck, and he swallows thickly. It really shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking to ask this of Bobby, considering everything they’ve been though together, but in all of these years, neither of them have ever put words to this dynamic between. Everyone else in the station has been happy to – muttering “father and son” at least once a week – but it’s not something either Buck or Bobby have openly acknowledged. Until now, at least. “Tommy and I, uh, we realised the other day that Alfie doesn’t really have any grandparents near him. I’m not really in contact with Mom and Dad these days, and Tommy obviously hasn’t spoken to his parents in years.” Buck watches as Bobby’s expression changes, initially his brows furrowed inquisitively before smoothing out as a look of understanding passes over him. Like he knows where this is going. Buck takes a step back, searching for Tommy’s hand. As their fingers lace together, he feels his anxiety seep from him, strength taken from his husband’s presence. “S-so we were – we were hoping that maybe – if it’s okay with you guys of course – th-that you and Athena could be like his grandparents? If you’d be comfortable with that?” The words are barely out of Buck’s mouth before Bobby’s arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel Bobby’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as he clutches Buck to him, as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear. He’s released almost as quickly, but Bobby keeps a hand on his shoulder. There are tears in his eyes, mirroring the ones threatening to spill in Buck’s own, and Bobby reaches up to wipe them away before speaking. “I would be honoured to. Honestly, you two have no idea how much that means to me, and how much I’m sure it’ll mean to Athena. We both love that little boy so much, and you two as well. It means the world that you asked.” “Well we figured, what with all the jokes about you being like Evan’s father, that we’d make you officially Alfie’s grandpa. Seems like the least we could do to repay everything you’ve done for us,” Tommy says, his hand settling on the small of Buck’s back. Bobby laughs wetly, taking another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah well, someone had to parent that kid. You should have seen him back then, Tommy.” “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.” Tommy smirks and he presses a cheeky kiss to Buck’s temple. Buck curls into Tommy, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. He feels light and floaty, the relief that had surged through him after Bobby’s response akin to helium. He’s about to open his mouth to thank Bobby when Jee comes barrelling into the kitchen, all limbs and pre-schooler excitement. “UNCLE BUCK!” she yells, launching herself at him, and he catches her around the middle, hoisting her up into his arms. “Daddy says to tell you guys to get your lazy asses into the lounge so we can open presents!” “That is not what I said!” Chimney yells from the lounge, and Jee covers her mouth with her hand, letting out a little giggle. “Yes it is,” she whispers conspiratorially in Buck’s ear. “But he told me to say it nicer.”

obligatory @hippolotamus tag

Make Me Write!!!

[allmannerofmalady]

In continuation of my clownery, I started a new DATV playthrough because my beloved Inquisitor looked so jarring I had to remake her and replay like 20 hours of the game. But hey, I made peace with the fact that I am playing DATV to wrap up Inquisition and get an ending scene at this point, I'm not currently foreseeing a second playthrough, so I gotta do it right, y'know?

Spoilers, and me complaining at extreme length, yet again, about my own personal expectations vs reality into the void. Please ignore if DATV negativity is something you prefer to stay away from, protect your peace & what you enjoy.

So I replay HOURS. I'm having fun killing everything as fast as I can - I don't know what it is about playing as a rogue in this game that has tickled my ADHD brain so much, but I'm surprisingly really good at the arrow bonanza and relentless enemy aggro?! This turn based bitch? I digress.

I see my bb Inquisitor Lavellan - she still doesn't look like herself, but I can live with it. She got some ill-advised fillers in Tevinter, she's been through a lot, let her LIVE.

This time around my strategy is pure lore hunting. I'm getting every codex, I'm SQUEEZING this playthrough for whatever lore/easter eggs I can get because idk if I'm going to play again. I got all of Solas' murals early on, got Mythal's essence before Weisshaupt even, I think. BUT WAIT! I have one more treat! The locked room in the Lighthouse! Solas' study! There must be something juicy for all the effort, right? RIGHT? :'D

I know it's been beaten to death, but PERSONALLY, the game still feels incredibly flat to me, jarringly so. If I'm in the Dreadwolf's home, I want to snoop. I want Rook to look through his library, his books, his garbage bin. I even remember the devs saying they wanted being in the Lighthouse to feel an old friends house, or something? I could be wrong, my brain is fried. It's not just a Solas thing - I'm playing this game because I'm desperate for info about the characters I love, but as Rook, we are IN Solas' HQ and I want to rip open the floorboards. I'm trying to RP as much as I can RP in this G.

Anyway, I was so thirsty for something more, something deeper than just these lovely environments I cant do much with, and notes on how Solas hoards raisins - so I collected the wisps and did all the things to unlock the second door in the Lighthouse, forever booboo the fool, thinking I would get some juicy content or something. Trying to stay positive.

No. NO. I got some gear, another empty room Rook has no comments on, and fine, some of Solas' observations on the anchor. It does seem to confirm he kept the Inquisitor’s arm aaaand I love him your honour.

Back to backflipping and shooting arrows in the air, and wanting to grab Emmrich by the beautiful lapels to shake him and ask about the Pentaghast family. Where's my WIFE --

On to the Weisshaupt mission, which was actually ridiculously fun to play - until I was told Weisshaupt is gone haha wow great love that at least the Inquisitor & gang are keeping Southern Thedas safe *subtle foreshadowing* 😃🤞 weeee

I was SO MAD at myself for expecting more like the clown that I am, it was something dumb but just annoyed me all over again and got me all… opinionated 🫠

So, I'm mad again. I cannot begin to articulate my feelings about the incredible amount of storylines and lore we've lost with the decisions made in DATV's writing - they've already been written so eloquently by much greater minds than myself. SO I'm just laughing my way through the pain 🤡

People pleaser that I am, I see other creators I've followed and loved for ages defend the game's choices, tell others they lack media literacy, that your criticisms mean you have rose tinted glasses about the previous games - whatever, your opinion can be valid without tearing others down. So, I genuinely thought something was wrong with me for being so hung up on details. But I can't even engage in fan theories anymore because I'm so jaded at this point. When I see new deep dives into lore-based theories on the game, 99% of the time my mind goes "There is no deeper meaning. They just wanted to wrap it up." Why do you think this thing happened? What do you think that thing is hinting? Nothing. And this is coming from someone who played all the games, owns all the novels, art books, World of Thedas I and II, the bloody Inquisitor lamp from the BioWare store LOL, I was primed and ready to engage in these conversations, but I can't. I have nothing to say that won't end in a cynical answer, and maybe that's because I'm also jaded by working in the game-adjacent VFX industry.

The factions are, yet again, fun but shallow, the logic confusing, and lack much of a backstory for Rook (I think Grey Wardens and Mourn Watchers seem to be the best developed from other reviews and playthroughs, I've only played extensively as a Shadow Dragon, to be fair). Why are you a mage in this one faction? Why are you a rogue in another when it doesn't make sense without a story to support it? It's all this beautiful candy floss that melts away the minute I stop and think about it. And then the cynic in me thinks - these are probably vestiges of the live service part of the game that EA was pushing for. I have to slap myself and stop looking for deeper meaning within corporate decisionsssss there is no swimming pool behind that closed door you needed 7 wisps for 😃

I desperately did not want this to be the case. I was hyped. I preordered the game and organized vacation around it, I'm too old and dealing with way too many crappy personal things to just be a hater for the sake of being a hater. Gaming and Dragon Age are my comfort spaces. But for the LIFE of me, I can't imagine playing DATV again once I finish, let alone more times than I can count like the previous games. Or imagine listening to 4 hours of Youtube videos of party banter to analyze, or even imagine how companions would react to certain things because they feel so stiff. Everything is beautiful, but sterile.

I do love Emmrich - I'm enjoying his storyline and romance, it's like the loveliest most whimsical Vincent Price Pixar romance, but still, something is always missing with the characters even as some do grow on me. I can't imagine anything close to just the party banter ALONE between Solas and Iron Bull. Cole. Fenris and Anders. And to be clear - the whole DA was GRITTY and DARK, DAO supremacy - NOT ME. I love all the games but they have always been whimsical and silly, cringey at times, and did not take themselves seriously. I remember doing the quest where Hawke is running around trying to keep Aveline's date with Donnic from going south, cracking up at how ridiculous it was, and just thinking - gods I LOVE this game.

Speaking of romance, while I'm enjoying how sweet the romance with Emmrich is, when I see others complaining about lack of spice... ahem. I still cannot get over the art style when it comes to characters. This is subjective, and a me problem - I still find it jarring. I don't like the proportions, the bloom, how smooth everyone looks. They still mostly look like cartoons to me, with no body hair and the big heads, and I find everyone's hands so distracting because they look like plasticine. I'm ok with no spice between these characters with their current designs lol let me leave it at that. Ok, except for Felassan and Solas, chef's kiss, no notes.

Solas and story elements directly around him still mostly hold the familiar weight, for the most part. I think credit goes to his amazing VA and the strength of what was likely written for his arc from the very start, before the rewrites and dev hell the game went through. I still have opinions, obviously, but even as a ride or die Solavellan I don't like having the Solavellan angle hijack conversations, so I'm not going to go there. If I'm going to criticize stuff I'll do it as a gamer/DA fan first, egg lover and apologist second.

As I reach the end of Act 2, the game continues to makes me feel like I'm stripped of all agency after a lifetime of playing choice-based games. I talk to companions when it allows me to, then they are relegated to set dressing. My conversation choices all feel the same, or don't match what I'm choosing sometimes. The Lighthouse does not feel like the vibrant hub it was sold as. I am on quests I mostly cannot accept or reject. I cannot interact with my surroundings unless it is gameified (light a candle, move a crystal). The companions abilities are all just - platforming? I know I sound hyperbolic, but it's all I can see currently.

I played Persona 5 from end to end, twice. I played FFXVI. I loved both, had no issues with their linear storytelling, and how the game led you to their end points. Those games are not DA, they did not have the expectations you would have from a BioWare title 10 years in the making. You were not lured in by tales of an incredible character creator, teased about what might be coming from previous games, told this was a sequel to an immersive fantasy RPG series in a beloved fantasy world where the defining studio mechanic was CHOICES MATTER, even when they changed a lot of other things from title to title. In P5/FFXVI you were Clive, you were Joker, you were playing out their story. They were not direct sequels to anything. I'm loathe to be seen as a mindless critic who just wants to shit on things, but a part of me does feel emotionally manipulated for $$$. I still resent how much hype was built for the game by maligning the previous ones (we're fixing Inquisition's mistakes!!).

I'm back to my mission of finishing the game I paid for, enjoy what I can, and get my Solavellan ending scene cause I'm down BAD for literally the only ship I have ever shipped🧍🏻‍♀️I appreciate that it was included. But also - wow does it exacerbate what wasn't included for everyone else's choices.

Something I hate is how everyone immediately jumped on the Baldur's Gate 3 comparisons - BG3 was a life changing game for me, but it's not perfect, and the comparisons are not fair. The one thing I will say is that when I first played BG3, despite its issues and the later criticisms of how Larian reacted to pressure from fans, I remember my earliest impression was - it feels good to be respected as a player. I didn't feel the game was talking down to me, and I got SO much for what I paid for (700 hours baybeee). Jaheira and Minsc were included as companions in homage to the previous games. Yes, they did Viconia dirty, nothing is perfect - but for example, Jaheira would tell you about her husband Khalid from the original games, which came out in 1998 and 2000. There was a lot of world building/easter eggs that not everyone was familiar with or even noticed, because not every player played BG1 and 2, or were familiar with DND 5e - but it was included. Drizzt Do’urden was mentioned ffs, they didn’t overthink about who read those books or not. I’m aware of my biases and I may very well be looking through rose tinted glasses, but I did not feel like the information was presented like I was dumb, or "ah they'll never understand this - SCRAP IT". It just feels like it’s there to honour the past and out of love for the world Larian were playing in.

—> edit to say that I do notice and enjoy the codex entries, callbacks to Tevinter Nights, Masked Empire, the older games. I wish that care and detail was woven into the main story and overall end product and not just background fluff. I know others are satisfied with those additions, wish that were me. I saw a tweet saying that every callback to a previous game or storyline actually pissed them off even more lol, I relate.

I don't feel that respect for the player in DATV, I'm sorry. There is love there, but as hard as I try, it feels like it's there despite of the overall design of the game, not part of it. I keep remembering interviews before the game was released and things that were promised, and I don't see it. At all. No more meaningless fetch quests!! Most companion-focused game! The quests are largely boring or formulaic, but addictive and fun because they are so packed with mindless combat that my brain enjoys. Sometimes it feels like filler - we didn't know what to add here, FIGHT! You unlocked a poignantly named gate in the Crossroads? NO STORY MORE FIGHT! And I'm eating it up, let me not be a hypocrite, I have 80 hours in the game. But personally, it feels designed to pad out this beautiful, sometimes fun, but bitterly shallow game. I can't even go into companion specifics because I have nothing to say, no story I want to analyze. Some have grown on me, but there is no bite or nuance to the writing that compels me and I have no urge to know more. In the previous DA games I would take the long route wherever I went just to get more banter from my companions, and I was instantly interested in them, even if I disliked them. I've seen the comments, I tried, I don't think it's because "I haven't spent enough time" with the DATV companions.

The level design of long narrow corridors, which do remind me of DA2 and FFXVI, has become so predictable to me that I almost always know exactly where I'm going to find loot. So it becomes this admittedly satisfying run of grabbing and fighting to the end point, getting the dopamine hits of collecting pointless stuff, but not really taking in the environments and enjoying the adventure. The level design is not immersive. These do not feel like real cities or real people, and that was intentional. It feels like “levels”, not a World. No one reacts to a single thing you do. Even in the ultra minimalist style of Zelda BOTW, townspeople would react to things you did. Sometimes I walk up to yet another obvious fight arena where the enemies are just chilling, waiting for me while standing still - almost like they're on shift at a haunted house LOL. I can imagine the Venatori stubbing out a cigarette, "C'mon guys, she's here, showtime". The funny part is this has all been seen before in older games, and it never bothered me. My own expectations and overhype might be to blame, but it feels like a big step back when so many games are stepping forward. Me = clown

I keep going back to my first reaction when the disappointment hit me. It feels like being given Persona 5 Strikers or Hyrule Warriors, and told that it's the sequel to the actual RPG. It's fun, it wears the skin of the thing you like that makes you happy, but stops there.

Other things I shake my fist at

Cheap ass The 6th Sense ass Varric death. Yes, yes, Solas villain arc whatever - it was cheap. Way to honour a multi-game beloved character and the player, even if the time had come for him to die in the story.

No, I cannot find a single redeeming reaction from a companion that makes Varric dying make sense in hindsight, except that they are all made of cardboard. I saw comments saying on a second playthrough it's clear Harding is in mourning - sorry, I don't see it.

So. Dorian, the Inquisitor, Charter, Harding, your party, Maevaris, Isabella, list goes on - not a single one of them asks about Varric or mentions his death? Expresses condolences? Nothing? Cheap. Even if Solas was playing with your mind, doesn't it make the overall characters in the game seem even more wooden and unrealistic to the player? It was not the gotcha they seem to think it is.

When the novelty of the cameos and the emotion associated wore off, they were just flat and felt random. Cassandra should have been there, doing Seeker shit (my WIFE). Ok no cameo? Casual dialogue with Emmrich about having a Nevarran in the Inquisition (or as the Divine?!) Lucanis info dumping about Josephine as an Antivan, Zevran as a Crow, nvm, time for a coffee joke. Merrill, eluvian queen, how is she a nonentity? Habibi Fenris should have been in the Shadow Dragons, spitting on the ground after being approached by Solas to join his uprising (lol what uprising amirite). Ok I'm cooking hire me Bioware 🍳 but at least they can remain untainted by the Isabella Treatment (tm)

This leads into the yeeting of the Keep, world states, choices, and hypocrisy around claiming to want to level the playing field for new players. No, all I can see is - it was treated as a buffet that they picked from as it suited. This is the one disappointment I will never let go of. Facsimile's of beloved character cameos were tossed in, you could not really talk to them outside of what limited dialogue you were allowed. Certain world states are now canon apparently - Dorian being recruited in the Inquisition, Morrigan drinking from the Well etc. You want a reboot and you've committed to tossing the choices and burning down Thedas (literally)? Go down with GLORY! Have all the previous main characters/companions alive. Have them all mentioned, even in passing. A portrait on a wall. Say goodbye to them, get your reboot. Honour what you built your business on. But yeah, Emmrich and Harding get to have their picnic in Fereldan fml bye

The argument of: well, the games are old now, it shouldn't matter. Ah - not too old to capitalize on the IP and DA name? Not too old to use some cameos to lure old players? The argument of - it was too many choices to track. Ok cut them down, but don't go scorched earth? 3 choices, mostly irrelevant to those who don't care about Solas (could never be me), and then literally telling you everything else in the South and Weisshaupt is now razed to the ground. But also the illuminati did everything.

FINALLY - the Inquisition should have been in charge of the hunt for Solas, hill I will die on. Fine, have Rook, but Inquisitor should have been the other protagonist. The people... who knew Solas best and betrayed by him... who were in an organization to save the world... Why did we have that cunty dagger stabbed into the map of Tevinter cliffhanger to have the Inquisitor reduced to a pyjama wearing husk BIOWAAAAAAAARE

It's this stuff that builds up, and makes me think - does this game hate its fanbase and source material that much? I very obviously need to go touch some grass 🤠

I keep engaging with Reddit, Tumblr, Twitter - all to my detriment because it makes me feel like there's something wrong with me for not loving it, all over again. I also desperately have a fic in me I would love to write, an ode to the story in my head from years of loving the world of Thedas, a love letter to my Lavellan and others - but idk what to do with the post-DATV world atp. I just want to get through Act 2/3, get my Solavellan smooch, ignore the ~secret Illuminati ending, and be grateful I'm not a Mass Effect fan so I don't have to go through this again 🐣

[demiesworld]

pegging the pretty demon boys [sneak peek / NSFW/18+]

pairings: femdom!reader x bottom!douma, bottom!enmu, & bottom!aizetsu

synopsis: a preview of reader pegging pretty slutty demon boys.

contents: pegging, femdom, mommy kink, anal (m receiving), oral (m receiving), i would add more but i don't wanna spoil this

notes: reader is a female and uses she/her pronouns.

full fic here!

DOUMA'S PREVIEW

"You know to be a guy you sure do have a women's waist line." You comment as you kneel behind your lover, you were admiring the contrast between his slim waist and broad shoulders. Your hands glide up on the sides of his thighs, to his narrow waist, and descend to his round perky ass. You squeeze on it, pressing them together and jiggle his ass. As you giggle at the fleshy globes, your lover presses his cheek into the pillow pouting.

Douma murmurs, "Are you going to keep me waiting or are you just going to get this over with?" He then adds, "This was your idea anyways."

You slap your hand on his ass, and smirk when he cringes, "You shut your mouth. I'm admiring your physique." You hover over his body to whisper into his ear, "Can't mommy commend her little slut for being a pretty boy?" Your teeth gnaw at the tip of his ear. He lets out a muffled groan and nods his head. The non-verbal answer wasn't enough of an answer to you, so you smack his ass again. "Use your words."

His reaction was a yelp and a bite on his own lower lip. Douma lets out a whine, "Yes mommy."

ENMU'S PREVIEW

You had him sitting on the bed with his legs parted. In between his thighs was a small lump underneath the black panties he wore.

"Are you sure you're not a woman? I know that some demons can change their sexes." You say as you run your hands up his thighs and hover your mouth over his cock.

Enmu shudders from the ghost of your breath on his hot, restrained erection and he answers, "Only the strongest of demons can change their gender, my darling, demons like Lord Muzan."

You sigh and pout up at him, "Hm... what a pity then. I will just have to improvise it seems."

He cocked his head to the side to your words, and his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. You noticed his inquisitive expression, but didn't verbally respond to him. Rather you let your tongue flatten against the bulge through the panties he wore. Your warm, wet flesh rubbing against his clothed shaft in a slow, teasing glide. Enmu lets out a high-pitched moan and spreads his legs slightly wider to accommodate for you. Your tongue then curved to stick itself underneath the fabric of the panties to touch his rigid cock.

"A-Ah, oh mommy... mommy please." He pleads.

AIZETSU'S PREVIEW

"Hm! Hmm!" He whines, thrusting his hips up into your palm. His mouth released yours with a wet "pop" sound and his tongue poked out of his mouth like a thirsty puppy. His blue eyes appeared to have darkened by lust just from the kiss alone. "M-More please," He begged.

You licked away the blood staining your lips before you say, "You want more baby? What do you want for mommy to do?"

Aizetsu exhales shakily and requests, "I-I want your hand on my cock please... and I really need your m-mouth."

"You want and you need. That's to be expected from a pitiful whore like you." Your eyes glimmer as you watch him pout and squirm underneath you. "What about what mommy wants and needs? Don't you care about what I want 'Zetsu?"

He nods his head eagerly and bites back a moan when your hand squeezes his cock again. "Mhm! Yes, yes, mommy."

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (3)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

I don't have much to say this update, how is everyone doing? Slow updates will continue to occur btw.

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"I'm hungry as fuck, let's get some food!" You cheered, closing the car door behind you.

"Strap in, Y/N. My sister's already being soooo fussy..." Your aunt sighed, looking in the rear mirror to see your dad comforting your mum.

"So... Where are we going this time?" You looked at her, the car beginning to drive.

"Oh, you know..." She trailed off, avoiding your inquisitive gaze. "Fine, I won't lie. We're going to one of those fast food chains down the street."

"But... But I thought we were going to a fancy restaurant...?"

"Get your head out the gutter, Y/N. When it's my turn to pay, the best you're getting is Wagamama's." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'll make sure to get extra food this time then." You scoffed, noticing her eyes. "Sure, Sure, go ahead. I'll just buy an 'All-You-Can-Eat' pass for you." She laughed to herself.

"Damn it." You cursed, looking away from her and staring at the passing trees and harbingers.

...

Wait...

"What the fuck?" You leaned forwards, your head pressing against the window.

Why are there people cosplaying in the fucking park? Eh, you shouldn't judge, really. It's not the weirdest place to cosplay...

They look lost, and they're arguing with eachother. How canon.

"Friends of yours? I recognise the ginger one, didn't I buy you a pillow of that guy for your birthda-"

"You 100% did not!" You interrupted her, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Why, oh why, did she have to say such confidential information in front of your parents!?

"Aren't you going to help them? They look lost, and this could be an opportunity to make friends and share hobbies. and maybe get out the house too..." Your dad questioned, eyeing the suspicious individuals.

"Obviously not! Do I look like the type of person who would willingly walk up to a big friendship group like that??"

"Well, you don't look like the type to chicken out." Your aunt laughed, speeding away from the area in a hurry.

"Ah, too late anyway! We already drove past." She sent a wink in your direction, a slight smile on her lips.

Thank fuck someone here is on my side.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"How strange..." Dottore muttered, tapping the glass on the compass and coming to a stop.

"Whatever could be the matter now, Dottore?" Pulcinella, firmly slammed his walking stick to the ground.

"No need for such aggression, Pulcinella." He sighed, waving off the old mayor's aggressive antics.

"Then whatever is the matter, Doctor? You seem to enjoy demoting my intellect while your invention is malfunctioning." Sandrone sarcastically asked, grabbing the compass from his hands.

"Always jumping to conclusions..." He sighed once more, snatching the compass back from her hands.

"...The compass recalculated."

"And why is that such a big deal?" Childe shrugged, squinting his eyes at Dottore's mask.

"It's 'a big deal' because it means our Decider is aware of our intentions. They're on the move." Dottore glared, watching the other harbingers' reactions.

"Are you sure, Doctor? The Decider could very well just be heading somewhere in one of those moving metal boxes..." Columbina pointed, a car driving past coincidentally.

"I suppose you could be right, Columbina." He coughed, turning his attention to the passing machines.

"Oh... I would love to just get a little glimpse of..."

"If you don't shut up and keep moving I swear to the Tsaritsa, Dottore!" Arlecchino threatened, tugging the Damselette along with her.

All Dottore could do was sigh at the ineducated buffoons around him.

...

..

.

"What is this place?" Capitano stepped forward, leading the group.

The building looked strange to them, it seemed like a cafe but there was no place for customers to sit! And the bright artificial lights covering the external and internal walls...

The light blinded the Harbingers, they all took a moment to turn away and rub their eyes.

"Is this a joke?" Scaramouche stared in disbelief, turning to Dottore with anger in his eyes.

"The compass says they're in there." He quoted, walking infront of Dottore and through the doors.

"Well, I suppose we're to walk inside with him. It's best to be on our guard; this place looks blinding." Pantalone coughed in his hand, covering his slight chuckle.

Hmm... I don't think meeting the Harbingers will turn out well. What does everyone think?

Anyway,

I'm going to France for the week! 😀😀

Hoorah! My middle ages ancestors are screaming at me right now...

I promise I won't bring soldiers with me lmao

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary

Just a quick message here. If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine! I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

[brownbearwrites]

clean laundry | Carl Grimes

carl grimes x reader

warnings: angsty fluff, carl talks about lori. this is the first ever fic i've written for carl, so my characterization of him might be a little off!

You let out a content sigh at the feeling of soft cotton fabric slipping over your arms and torso, the clean scent of freshly washed laundry filling your senses. Alexandria was like a dream come true. After spending weeks on end on the road, not knowing if or when you’d next find clean water, something as simple as clean clothes felt luxurious to you. You’d been here for almost two weeks now, and still, you sometimes struggled to believe that this was all real. That you were actually able to take warm showers, sleep in a plush bed, and cook on a stove. That you could rest. Of course, you never knew how much longer this would all last; that threat always seemed to loom over you. Even so, you were hell-bent on enjoying life in Alexandria for as long as you possibly could.

Behind you, the door to your bedroom creaks open, interrupting your moment of peace. You turn your head, Carl’s eyes meeting yours from where he’s perched against your door frame.

“Hi,” he says, cracking a smile you can’t help but return.

You reciprocate his greeting, beckoning him into the room with a wave of your hand. “Weren’t you supposed to be watching after Judith?” you ask him.

Carl shakes his head no as he unceremoniously throws himself down onto your bed, “Michonne finished her watch early, so she came to take over from me. I thought I might as well come over and see you”.

“How sweet of you,” you respond, turning to face him. Carl reaches out to you, his hand resting at the juncture of where your calve and thigh meet. His thumb rubs the exposed skin below your shorts, his touch soft and gentle. He carefully tugs you towards him, and you easily allow yourself to be pulled down to sit down on the bed next to him. You brush some stray hairs away from where they were obscuring his eyes, tucking them behind his ears.

“Jessie has been trying to convince me to cut it off,” he confesses to you. You see the uneasiness on his face clear as day. Sometimes Carl was like an open book, you thought. It was just always so easy to figure out exactly what he was thinking. Or, more likely, you just knew him a little too well.

You shake your head, your hands inching up to stroke through your boyfriend’s brown locks, “You don’t have to cut it if you don’t want to, you know? She can’t make you”. You smile at him, leaning down to kiss him, “I think the long hair looks good on you, anyway”.

Carl laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you toward him. You give in, letting your body slot against his, and your head coming down to rest on his chest. Like this, you can hear the gentle thumping of his heartbeat. For a while, neither one of you speak. The only sounds in the room are your soft breaths and the distant voices that drift in from outside through the open window. You allow your eyelids to slip shut, fully enjoying the peace of this moment.

Below you, Carl takes in a shaky breath. “It reminds me of my mom,” he softly tells you.

You let out an inquisitive hum, giving him the freedom to elaborate.

“She cut my hair for me back at the quarry. It was right after my dad found us again, remember?” he says, waiting for you to nod before continuing, “she used to do that for me all the time, even before all the walkers and stuff. She’d sit me down on the porch steps and just start chopping away at me. I used to hate it”.

You laugh, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine Lori struggling to keep a tiny Carl sitting still for long enough to finish a haircut.

“It’s just—”, he continues, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “It’s just that she told me that, one day, I’d be wishing that she could cut my hair for me again. And she was right”.

His arms wrap around you tighter, and you feel him shake with the effort it takes to not cry. You allow him his comfort for a bit, not daring to move except for where your hand has come up to rub his arm through the worn fabric of his shirt. You’re well aware of the fact that Carl hates it when people see him cry. You know that it makes him feel weak and vulnerable. Still, when you begin to hear the sobs rack through his body, you cannot help but untangle yourself from his arms so that you can sit up straight. You swing your leg over his hip, now sitting down on his lap. You lean your head down to meet his, your foreheads resting against one another. Carefully, you wipe the tears away from where they have begun to run down his flushed red cheeks.

“You’re allowed to miss her,” you softly say, “and you’re allowed to grieve her. But please, talk to me about it. You can’t keep pushing it all down until it explodes out of you. You’ll just hurt yourself doing that. You can share your pain with me, I’m here for you”.

At this point, Carl’s breathing has evened out a little. He shoots you a watery smile, leaning up to kiss you deeply and full of emotion. “You’re right,” he gives in, “I’ll be better. I’ll try”.

The smile you give him is warm, and full of love. You lay yourself down again, once more pressing the full weight of your body down onto Carl. You know that there is still a long way to go. But, with Carl’s steady heartbeat in your ear, his warm body pressed against yours, and the smell of clean laundry still wafting through the room, you allow yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’ll be okay. Both of you will be.