#by which I mean it is actually impossible

[brenatto-apothecary]

I am a very vocal hater of the whole "the game is just for the cast you can't criticize it ever!!" mentality, to the extent that even when it's in response to a take I think is awful, it will always bother me more than the original take. After some reflection, I've broken it down to five key reasons why it upsets me so much.

1) The obvious one is that the idea that the show is only being made for the cast is false. If they didn't intend to make a piece of entertainment, they wouldn't have posted it online. A lot of creative works are made with the creators enjoyment as the highest priority. That does not mean that's all it was made for.

2) The way these posts commonly focus on how the cast isn't obligated to do what other people want is a fundamental misunderstanding of what criticism is and why we make it. I assure you the vast majority of people do not think their complaints should be met with the cast personally kneeling before them.

3) It implies that something being made with love automatically makes disliking any element of it wrong. Which is a belief that is impossible to hold without becoming a hypocrite. There is no way in hell you have never disliked a piece that the creator(s) had fun making. I'm writing this post for my personal enjoyment. Have fun with that paradox.

4) There's this weird belief that all complaints are about specific desires that weren't met. There are actually a whole lot of posts about whether the story succeeded in doing what it intended to do, but I guess I can't expect people to read things.

5) This is my big one. Art deserves to be criticized. It's one of if not the most important way of interacting with a work. I don't believe saying actual play is uniquely exempt from critique is respectful of the medium. You are treating it as though it shouldn't be engaged with in the way we engage with all other art and is, therefore, lesser.

[loredrinker]

Inflection, Context, and Elven: Lavellan’s Veilguard Ending (romance state)

Lately, I’ve seen quite a bit of criticism directed at a romanced Lavellan on my dash - particularly in the Veilguard ending, interpreting her as needy, egotistical, or entitled.

And I am wondering: Did we watch the same ending? (I find it fascinating how differently people interpret the same moments - such a reflection of the human experience.) And I couldn't help myself! I felt compelled to share my interpretations so I punched this out the last few days.

The sticking point seems to be Lavellan’s words, especially the ones spoken in Elven.

It seems like a common interpretation of Lavellan’s words here are: 

“It won’t be terrible if you’re with me.” (Implying possessiveness or entitlement - and that she alone will make it better.)

The game’s delivery offers no inflection on any word though. For me, it’s always been: 

“It won’t be terrible if you’re with me.” 

It’s subtle, but very different. This is just one micro-example of how much nuance is packed into the dialogue in the Veilguard ending. These lines shouldn’t be taken in isolation - especially not the Elven ones. They should be understood in the context of what Solas says to Lavellan in Elven just before, and beyond that, within the history established in Inquisition and Trespasser.

Indulgent Solas x Lavellan post ahead.

Note: I respect and appreciate all Solas ships and I will never post negativity towards other interpretations in this space. Everyone deserves to enjoy their creativity and find joy in their community. There’s more than enough Solas to go around. As for Lavellan’s portrayal in VG, it's not perfect. I understand the devs had the impossible task of balancing every interpretation of her. Some dialogue between Rook and Lavellan took me out of gameplay a bit. But I recognized then they had to condense countless versions of her into one, and perfection wasn’t possible. In general I have honest criticisms about the game but try to keep my posts positive overall.

Still here? Excellent. (And sorry, it's another long post.)

"Elven is often a game of intents, not direct mapping of phonetic meaning." The language doesn’t rely on straightforward translations of sounds or words into specific meanings. Instead, it operates on a deeper level, where intent and context carry as much weight.

Earlier in the game, when Solas confronts Elgar’nan, he says: “I must speak to you in this tongue. It seems Elven is beyond your grasp.” This insult implies that Elgar’nan has lost the ability to understand the nuanced, metaphorical nature of the language. Elven relies on shared understanding, rhythm, intent, to convey its full meaning. By Lavellan and Solas choosing to speak Elven to each other it's an acknowledgement of their shared understanding - a connection rooted in their history going back to Inquisition.

Which is why I embrace it in my interpretations.

I disliked that Veilguard kept out the Elven words and left only the English translations in. They can be found here: (Elven Language - Dragon Age Wiki)  But for funsies, let's take Lavellan’s actual Elven dialogue and translate it literally: Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhenan. We already know from Inquisition that Banal nadas translates roughly to "Nothing is inevitable" - the same phrase Solas uses when confronting the Nightmare Demon. So Lavellan is saying: "Nothing is inevitable. I love you, my heart."  The gall of this woman! 

Since I do my best to keep my posts playing in the game’s sandbox, I’m going to just look at what the game tells us the translations are and not get into actual translations (others have done that far better than I ever could). There are some great fandom language resources linked at the end of this post. 

Let's start where Lavellan enters and speaks in the common tongue: 

This is personal and expansive. On one level, she’s speaking as someone Solas has wronged, reminding him of the pain he’s caused her directly. But on another, she’s channeling the voices of countless others whose lives were affected by him and who will be shattered by his actions. It’s a challenge that blends her role as both an individual and the Inquisitor.

It’s also not a condemnation. Lavellan doesn’t lash out or accuse him of being irredeemable. Instead, she questions him, cutting through to reach the man beneath. She’s speaking to Solas (wisdom).

"Vhenan" is acknowledging his love for her but it’s also symbolic of his heart, the part of himself he’s buried and tried to ignore, suddenly reappearing. Solas has spent much of his journey detached and isolated, removing his heart metaphorically to push forward with his plans without the weight of emotional ties. Lavellan’s presence makes it impossible for him to keep it hidden. His heart is right there, exposed and speaking. And the ellipsis - so many words unsaid.

Immediately Solas looks down (I read it as shame). It’s a reaction back to what he said in Trespasser: that he would not have her see what he becomes. And yet, here she is. She sees him, the terrible path he has chosen, the blood on his hands, the awful things he has done, and what he’s about to do. In that moment, his shame is palpable - because Lavellan is one person he couldn’t bear to face in this state. 

And Lavellan doesn’t hesitate. Her next words are as much about holding him accountable as they are about reminding him that there is still another path. 

This isn’t some starry-eyed, naïve Inquisitor we’re dealing with (at least mine isn’t). Lavellan is fully aware at this point. But her stance is clear: no one is beyond redemption, not even the Dread Wolf himself. And she wasn’t the only one – this message is repeated throughout the game by others. 

Her words challenge the belief that has kept Solas shackled to his path. He’s convinced himself that his guilt and mistakes are too great, that there’s no turning back, and that the only option is to see his destructive plans through to the bitter end.

She doesn’t beg or demand or frame it in a way that’s grand and sweeping – she simply says “you’re wrong.”  

She’s not trying to erase his mistakes or pretend they don’t exist. She's saying, Yes, you’ve done terrible things, but that doesn’t mean you’re beyond the reach of change.

Lavellan’s journey as Inquisitor began with the Anchor - a mark born of Solas’s mistakes and choices. From the moment she touched his orb (yes, it sounds dirty), her path became entwined with his. This isn’t Lavellan selfishly claiming Solas’s path; it’s an acknowledgment that their journeys have run parallel.

Their connection was forged long before either fully understood its implications. Lavellan’s work to stabilize Southern Thedas mirrors Solas’s aim to restore a broken world, including the burdens of being forced to take on titles and labels. She is revealing her own struggles with devastating, blood-soaked choices - choices that, like his, have carried profound consequences.

Solas believes he’s been walking this path alone, but Lavellan shows him she's been walking alongside him this whole time. Now, as their paths converge again, this is a reminder of the power of connection and the burdens they’ve both borne. He's actually not alone.

Her words also carry an unspoken promise: she is ready to continue to bear the consequences with him. She knows the road ahead is painful and fraught with difficulty, but she is steadfast.

Why do I feel that people sometimes forget Lavellan’s role as Inquisitor? She wasn’t defined by Solas; she was the leader of a powerful military and political organization, forced to make horrible decisions. Whether you choose the mages or templars in Inquisition, you doom thousands to torment and death. The Empress of Orlais can live or die based on the Inquisitor’s choices. And if you’re like me and made the wrong calls on the Dalish clan war table operation, her own clan can be murdered and wiped out.  (Yes, I’m still haunted by that moment.) Her hands have blood on them too. This makes me wonder: does some criticism of the Solas/Lavellan romance stem from failing to see Lavellan as her own person? I love Lavellan for who she is as the Inquisitor - not because of Solas. Likewise, Solas is fascinating on his own. Their romance is one layer of the story, not the foundation of either character. Sometimes it feels like there are even some Solas/Lavellan lovers who have a tendency to overlook the depth and individuality of both characters outside of their romance.

Solas’s statement is a raw admission of all the guilt he carries for his deceptions and the pain he has caused her - lying to her about his identity, betraying her trust - not just as the Inquisitor, but as a person he loves.

His words are not an attempt to seek forgiveness but an acknowledgment of the truth - no matter how painful it is for them both. He knows his choices have caused devastation to the world and to her specifically. He's exposing the full weight of his dual burden: the grand, world-altering consequences of his plans and the personal betrayal of the woman he loves, who trusted him. 

Perhaps, on some level, he hopes that reminding Lavellan of his lies and treachery will convince her to abandon him, sparing her further pain. His guilt and self-loathing are so entrenched that the idea of being forgiven - or even supported – either confounds him or terrifies him.

But Solas’s confession is not just a shield to push her away. It’s also an invitation for her to see him - not the wise, compassionate companion she knew, but the flawed, broken man beneath.

This moment to me shows that Solas still values Lavellan’s understanding (we also saw it in his letter to her). He doesn’t diminish the weight of his actions but wants her to see the cost of his deception - not just for her, but for himself. To Solas, his betrayal is unforgivable. 

And yet - this "selfish" woman dares to forgive him anyway. 

Forgiveness is an act of wisdom because it requires understanding - and she reflects that wisdom right back at him.

"All you have to do is stop" is heavy with meaning. Yes, on the surface, it’s a plea to stop tearing down the Veil, to reconsider the destruction. But it’s also a plea for him to stop running, to stop isolating himself, and to stop punishing himself for his failures. She’s asking him to step out of the shadow of his self-loathing and see that there’s another way forward, not by demanding or commanding, but by offering him compassion (forgiveness). (Cole, I miss you.) 

But Solas’s guilt and self-loathing run deep.

With these words, Solas apologizes to his heart - hardening it once more. For a moment, it had softened, cracked open. But he shuts the door.

The bow that accompanies his words is loaded. A bow carries layers of meaning depending on context - reverence, respect, gratitude, apology, greeting or farewell, a spiritual act, acknowledgment, loyalty, mourning, or even a romantic gesture. Solas’s bow can mean all of these. 

He is physically reinforcing the gravity of his apology. It’s a solemn moment. He is bowing to her strength, to all she has endured because of him. And when he calls her "vhenan," it is personal. It's an apology to her and to his own heart for not choosing the life he wanted to have with her.  “...to stay by your side as Solas...as I wanted.”  

The bow also carries guilt. He is acknowledging the pain he’s caused and humbling himself before her. And his eyes in the animation during this moment – I saw haunted, tormented, tired eyes – the eyes of a man grappling with the weight of his choices and the thought that he cannot accept redemption, even if it’s offered freely.

Time for a an indulgent moment - a bow can also symbolize acceptance. What if, in that moment, it’s not just an apology? What if it’s Solas saying, “You’re right. You have walked this path with me. I acknowledge that.” The bow could be a tacit agreement - a recognition of a future with her. What if he’s asking: I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, are you still coming with me? And Lavellan’s eyes right after? She looks down, like she’s contemplating this - what if he tears the Veil down? What happens next? What do I do? Anyway, maybe I indulged with this thought a little too much.  

But, as I’ve said before, it takes a village to stop a Solas. Cue Morrigan and Mythal - but I’m not diving into that dialogue rabbit hole in this post.  

But this scene with Mythal is important. Lavellan has just watched the man she loves completely crumble in front of Mythal. He’s bent over in grief/pain, utterly vulnerable. She hears him say, in anguish, “The things that I have done.” She sees him lift the dagger - perhaps to surrender it, to shield himself from Mythal, or even as a plea to Mythal to end his torment. Whatever the intent, Lavellan is witnessing the rawest, most broken Solas. His guilt is overwhelming, and this is the first time she’s truly seeing the full weight of it laid bare (as is Rook). It’s a moment of heavy sadness for her – and for us as players. 

This scene seems to have created a universal understanding among players who love Solas, regardless of who you ship Solas with. We are all witnessing Solas in this moment of pure vulnerability. Let’s honor that shared empathy. 

Solas is bent over with the emotional collapse of centuries of obligation and guilt coming to the surface. Mythal’s departure leaves Solas vulnerable, stripped of the purpose that has guided him for so long. He is alone in his pain.

For Lavellan, can you imagine the helplessness? All she can do is offer her presence, understanding, and faith in him afterward. That might feel like so little in the face of such immense pain, but it’s all she has to give. 

Where Mythal’s words, spoken in the common tongue, are authoritative and final, Lavellan’s are intimate and personal. Her choice to speak Elven reflects her desire to meet Solas where he is - connecting with him on an intimate level.

Only after Mythal has left him exposed - that Lavellan uses the Elven language. In this moment, stripped of his defenses, he is finally open to hearing and feeling the full significance of the words and their intent.

Lavellan’s words challenge the notion that fate is immutable or inevitable. When she says, “there is no fate...,” she isn’t diminishing everything else in favor of her love; she’s rejecting the tyranny of inevitability. Her words assert that choices - rooted in love, connection, and shared purpose - have the power to shape their path forward. She reframes love as a force just as powerful as fate, capable of creating meaning and direction where there once seemed to be none.

Atonement

And at this point? Lavellan has no idea what Solas will do next. None of them do. But the combined efforts of Rook, Lavellan and Morrigan get through to him. Because Solas makes a choice - a monumental choice. He binds himself to the veil, committing to atonement. Atonement is a powerful, active word. It evokes the gravity of recognizing wrongdoing and the courage to address it. His decision to seek restoration with the Titans, to deal with the Blight, to return to where it all began, reflects the depth of his remorse and his willingness to rebuild the balance he disrupted – from the beginning. 

Solas equates atonement with isolation, believing that his punishment must be borne alone. To him, atonement requires severing ties, including the possibility of love. He doesn’t ask Lavellan to join him because he cannot conceive of burdening her with the weight of his choices and the path he must walk.

But Lavellan’s words - once again - challenge that. She offers him the possibility that his actions, no matter how devastating, do not erase the love and faith others still have in him. This is an invitation.

She's also being vulnerable here. She’s offering herself to him, knowing full well that he still might say no. A risk she’s willing to take. 

He doesn’t try to shut her out or push her away this time. Instead, he shifts the focus - he needs her to understand the gravity of the path they are about to walk. His response reflects his own vulnerability as well, he wants her to know what she’s choosing, but he can’t bring himself to reject her offer outright. 

Solas responds in Elven - his acknowledgment of their shared understanding and their entire relationship and journey that has shaped them.

His words also mark a turning point: for the first time, Solas allows Lavellan her agency. Throughout their relationship, he has taken her choices away. He broke off their relationship in Inquisition. He vanished after Corypheus’s defeat, leaving her no say in it all.

And he knows this! During their confrontation in Trespasser, when Lavellan demands answers, he justifies his deception with, “And what would you have had me say? That I was the great adversary in your people’s mythology?” Her cutting reply, “I would have had you trust me!” lands with devastating clarity. His face falls, struck by the hard truth: the man who values freedom has stripped hers away. And he's going to do it again.

This moment in Veilguard feels like a callback to that. Lavellan is asserting her choice. And this time, Solas doesn’t take it from her.

By framing his destination in such stark, "terrible" terms, Solas isn’t pushing her away out of cruelty. He’s laying bare the enormity of what lies ahead, warning her of the peril while giving her the freedom to choose for herself. It’s his way of ensuring she understands the stakes.

Solas is doing what she requested long ago - trusting her - and what a choice to place that trust in. He’s entrusting her to make an informed decision about stepping onto a path that could shape the future of Thedas. He is trusting Lavellan’s strength and resiliency. And in trusting her, Solas reveals a quiet, unspoken truth: he doesn’t want to face this journey alone. By even presenting the choice, he reveals a quiet hope that she might go with him, despite everything.

To me, what makes this moment so achingly beautiful is the duality in his expression. His eyes seem to plead two things at once: “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way,” and “I can’t deny wanting to be with you.” There’s a raw vulnerability in the way he looks at her.

“It won’t be terrible if you’re with me.” 

Lavellan’s response is a direct challenge to Solas’s warning. He tells her the path ahead will be awful - because of him. But she counters, saying that it’s because of him that it won’t be. This isn’t her forcing herself into his journey or suggesting that she alone will make it better. Instead, it’s her way of expressing that his presence will give her the strength to face whatever lies ahead. She’s trying to ease his mind, while also signaling her willingness to trust him again.

At the same time, her words acknowledge the weight of Solas’s suffering, offering herself as a partner to bear that burden together. She isn’t dismissing the risks or downplaying the severity of what’s to come - she’s choosing to stand beside him, fully aware of the challenges ahead.

It’s not about personal gain; it’s about shared resilience. Lavellan’s focus is on what they can endure together, not on what she might receive from the journey.

And since the Fade reflects emotions, as many have pointed out, their combined trust and love could manifest in ways neither of them can predict. Their bond has the power to shape not just their path but the very world around them.

This declaration is past, present and future; it’s a reaffirmation of their bond, a recognition that they’ve been walking the path of the dinan’shiral together all along. It’s future focused - she is offering to shoulder the burden with him going forward.  

She’s also telling him that she won't abandon him, no matter how hard the road ahead may be. 

And at the end of the day, she's a woman who still loves him. What does Prince Lir say in The Last Unicorn? "I love whom I love."

I've never interpreted Lavellan as someone sitting by a window for ten years, writing sad poetry and sighing into the wind, longing for Solas. She’s been busy - rebuilding a fractured world, navigating political fallout, and seeking understanding. Lavellan’s love for Solas isn’t blind devotion; she’s holding onto the possibility of redemption and the deep impact he had on her life. In my world state, Lavellan’s clan is wiped out. The people of the Inquisition have become her family, the ones she fights for and protects. And indirectly, Solas gave her that family. Despite the pain he’s caused, her love for him reflects the complexity of her journey - one defined not by a single relationship, but by hope, resilience, and the connections she’s forged along the way.

Lavellan then leans in to kiss him, and Solas allows himself to be drawn in. This moment is acceptance - a silent vow, a promise sealed in their shared vulnerability. It’s an intimate connection forged in front of those who have just witnessed the emotional storm that brought them to this point, as if to say, “This is where we stand, together.”

While I won’t dive into fly-cam images (you can find some here), there are some tender subtle details: the way he caresses her hands with his thumbs, the way he holds onto her one hand as she pulls away, as if he’s not ready to let go. But I promised to stay within game constraints.

And then Solas turns to Rook and says, “Thank you.”

Solas doesn’t thank Rook when he hands them the dagger, nor when he’s preparing to walk into the Fade. He says it after the kiss. Make of that what you will but Rook’s is symbolic for me, especially after thinking about this ending a bit.

In thanking Rook, Solas acknowledges not only their actions but also their understanding of the connection he shares with Lavellan. Rook, transformed by their own relationships and the bonds they’ve formed throughout their journey, embodies the themes that have always defined Dragon Age to me: connection, fellowship, community, love, and redemption. These games (again, for me) have always been about how people, despite their flaws and struggles, can come together to make the impossible possible.

Rook’s symbolism in the redemption ending feels like the culmination of this ethos. They represent how even those who begin on the periphery of great events can become central to forging bonds and creating change. Solas’s gratitude is for Rook's empathy, their recognition of the importance of connection, and their role in bringing these threads of love and redemption together. I'll go cry now.

And off they go into the Fade.

The Final Translation 

"With Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain dead, and the Inquisitor finally reunited with her true love, it looked like one of the biggest stories the world had ever seen was finally drawing to a close."  

Varric’s narration ties the ending image back to the connection between Inquisition and Veilguard. Inquisition is the Inquisitor’s story; Veilguard is Rook’s. Solas serves as the thread linking them. Varric frames this moment through Lavellan’s perspective, narrating the story like one of his novels - not to diminish Solas, but to highlight the Inquisitor’s journey. After all, Veilguard wouldn’t exist without Inquisition. Rook wouldn’t be working with Varric or searching for Solas if not for the Inquisitor.

As much as I would have loved a deeper focus on Solas, Veilguard wasn’t his story. If Inquisition is the Inquisitor’s story and Veilguard is Rook’s, this ending is a shared culmination: for a romanced Lavellan, it’s the personal resolution of her journey; for Rook, it’s recognition of their critical role in saving Thedas.

Okay, indulgence over - whew, that was long! I really need to practice shorter posts.

In the end, those who dislike this romance or this ending probably always will. That’s fine; I just wanted to share my interpretations because I genuinely love this story for all its complexity.

To everyone who made it to the end of this post - thank you for joining me in my indulgence. May your own Solas ships continue to bring you joy and inspiration.

Elven language resources: 

Project Elvehn on AO3 

Elven Translator 

World Anvil Elvhen Resource 

Reddit on Elvhen Poetry 

[gloomysoup]

thank god for robin buckley

@steddiebingo christmas prompt: cock block

rating: explicit | word count: 2512 | tags: omegaverse, edging, fingering, fluff, platonic stobin | ao3

Steve was going to die. He was absolutely certain of it. He had not gotten laid in weeks, and he was so keyed up. He would even be satisfied with a quick fingering in the bathroom as if they were horny teenagers sneaking around again.

It was nearly impossible for any of that to occur with four small children that rely on them for everything.

Before, they learned how to be quiet. They could get in some quick alone time often enough to keep them both satisfied, most often at night when the pups were tucked into bed. Lately, however, this has not worked.

Let it be said that Steve loves his pups, more than anything in the world. He would never ever trade them for anything. But.

Lucy refuses to sleep in her crib. She absolutely must be attached to someone, usually Steve, in order to sleep. Plus, she's been teething so much that it's been nearly impossible to soothe her. Violet has been going through another sleep regression, which means unfortunately, Addie isn't sleeping either. So far, James is the only one still sleeping through the night, but Steve isn't holding his breath. At this rate, he figures it's only a matter of time before James joins his sisters in not sleeping. During the day, when the older girls are at school, Eddie is working.

Things have not worked out for Steve very well lately.

-

It's the weekend. Eddie is off work, and Steve is determined. He gets James to lay down for a nap, which he may or may not take. Addie and Violet are playing in their room, and Lucy is in her swing in the nursery. Steve knows they don't have much time before Lucy realizes she's alone and starts screaming again. Eddie is in the kitchen, humming to himself as he washes up the lunch dishes.

Steve grabs his hand and tugs him to the bedroom. Eddie watches with an amused smile on his face, willingly at Steve’s mercy. Their kisses get hot and heavy quick, Eddie’s hand already dipping below Steve’s waistband.

And then Violet is screaming bloody murder two rooms away, crying for Eddie like she's dying.

Eddie kisses him quickly, already moving away from Steve. “I'll be right back,” he promises.

Steve groans as Eddie leaves the bed and slips out the door. By the time he comes back from diffusing the situation, caused by a toy, Lucy is crying. The moment is gone. They've lost their chance.

-

All of the pups are finally asleep in their own beds. For the first time in months, Lucy stayed asleep when Steve put her in the crib. They finally get some alone time.

Eddie’s hands are gentle against his skin as they slip under his shirt; their kisses are soft, but filled with intent. They're pressed together until they are nearly one unit. Steve is finally going to get what he needs.

And then some asshole nearby sets off fireworks.

It takes no time for Lucy’s cries to come through the baby monitor, and then their door opens to Addie and Violet asking to sleep with them, tears in their eyes. Steve sighs as he throws the covers back and gets out of bed to get Lucy. He checks on James on his way back, who is still sleeping like a rock. He even has to stop to make sure he's still actually breathing, which he is.

When he gets back to the bedroom, Lucy in his arms, Eddie is already curled up with the girls. He looks at Steve over two heads of curly hair as he climbs back under the covers and gets comfortable. “James?”

Steve huffs a soft laugh. “Sleeping like a rock. I swear, that kid sleeps through anything.”

Eddie smiles and shuffles closer, squishing the girls tightly between them. Addie giggles quietly from where her face is in Eddie’s shirt, wiggling for a moment before getting comfortable and settling again. “I'm sorry we didn't get to finish what we started,” he said softly, eyes still on Steve despite the curls that are practically up his nose from the pup against him. “I know we’ve been trying to get some time to ourselves for a while, and it just doesn't work out.”

Steve sighed, tucking Lucy close to his chest and brushing his hand over the curls on Violet’s head. “It's okay. Our pups need us more.”

“Doesn't mean you can't be upset, baby.”

Steve shook his head quickly. “I'm not upset, though. Frustrated, maybe, but… we're parents.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes our own wants have to take a backseat, and that's okay. I wouldn't trade this life for anything.”

Eddie smiled again, reaching for Steve’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I promise I'll find a way to make it up to you, though. Eventually.”

Steve smiled back, lacing their fingers together. “I know you will.”

-

The next time they finally get an opportunity to be alone, it's a bright Sunday morning. Lucy was down for her morning nap, and the three older kids are occupied by a movie in the living room. Steve and Eddie knew they had at least half an hour before one of them got bored. They knew it would have to be quick and quiet, which they had basically mastered by the time Violet was six months old. They certainly enjoyed taking their time more, but they didn't get many opportunities once their family really started growing.

The baby monitor was on the dresser, the kids were occupied, the door was locked. Everything was perfect. Eddie’s lips were on Steve’s neck, nipping gently as he breathed in his scent right from the source. They'd spent a good five minutes just making out like they were kids again, which is probably five minutes longer than they should've, but they just couldn't help themselves. Steve’s hair was fanned out on the bedspread, slightly messy from Eddie’s hands raking through it and the occasional tug. Eddie’s lips trailed to his chest, so careful where he knew Steve was most sensitive. His hand slipped under Steve’s shorts, teasing exactly where he knew Steve wanted him. He didn't tease for long, though. He knew they were short on time.

He slowly pressed his finger up inside, swallowing Steve’s shuddering gasp with a sharp kiss. He started slow; they hadn't done anything in a while. He didn't want to hurt him. He was just beginning to press a second finger, so slow and careful with his eyes on Steve for any sign of discomfort.

Then the front door opened.

“Poppy!” all three pups exclaimed from the living room. There was the sound of clambering pups and Wayne’s laughter.

Steve whined, high in his throat, as Eddie removed his hand. Eddie pressed kisses to his neck, mating gland, cheeks, and lips in quick succession.

“‘m sorry, baby,” he whispered with a very apologetic look before standing up and trying to straighten himself out. Steve didn't move for several moments. Not until he heard Wayne asking the pups where they were. Then he sighed, pulled himself from the bed, and tried to look presentable before they slipped down the hallway to the living room.

Wayne was bent down on one knee, James in his arms and Violet clambering up onto his back. The pair stepped into the room, really hoping it didn't look like they had been in the middle of something. They both knew Wayne had seen more than his fair share of the two of them in compromising positions.

When Wayne stood up and saw them, he took in their appearances and merely raised an eyebrow. Yeah… Steve should've seen that coming. Wayne always knows.

“You two busy?” he asked, still giving them head to toe looks.

Eddie cleared his throat and smiled. “Can always make time for you, old man.”

“Mhm.” Wayne gave them a very knowing, slightly judgy look.

“So, what're you doing in town for, Wayne?” Steve asked as nonchalantly as he could manage. “You didn't have to make the drive, y’know.”

Wayne shrugged, adjusting his hold on James. “Had a few vacation days needed usin’ up. Figured I'd come up and see the pups for a bit. I can go back, though. Get outta y'all's hair if ya got plans.”

“‘Course not, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said. “We’d love to have you. Wouldn't we, sweetheart?”

Steve smiled. “Absolutely. You're always welcome here, Wayne.”

Part of Steve thought that maybe, just maybe, having Wayne over meant he and Eddie could get even a smidgen of alone time. That was not the case, however. Despite Wayne doing what he could to help out with the pups, Violet had been acting particularly clingy lately. She had always been a very clingy baby, always wanting to be with Steve or Eddie, and she did good with the separation stuff for a little while when James was born. It helped that she shared a room with Addie, and that had really been their intention with putting the two girls together anyway.

For some reason, though, it was back like a vengeance. She spent almost every night in their bed. And while Steve would never even dream of giving up this time with his pup while she still offered it, it had made spending any time with Eddie pretty much impossible.

-

Of course, it's Robin that finally comes to his rescue.

She's hanging out while Steve folds laundry on a Saturday morning. Addie and Violet were playing in their room, James was sitting on the living room floor playing with some cars, and Eddie had taken Lucy to the store with him to go grocery shopping. Robin watched with a raised brow as Steve folded clothes in what he thought was a perfectly normal way, but apparently not to Robin.

He huffed a little as he stuck the folded clothes into the basket, organized by room, and Robin pursed her lips.

“What?” Steve asked, voice maybe a little more tense than it needed to be.

“Just wondering what the fuck you're problem is,” Robin responded. “You're real tense, babe.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I wouldn't be so tense if I could actually get laid.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “You haven't gotten laid recently? Well, that explains the attitude. How long has it been?”

Steve huffed. “Like, almost three months, Rob.”

“You're joking.”

“Wish I was.” Steve groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “No matter what I do, it just never happens. And trust me, we've tried. One time, we even got so far as his fingers inside of me, and then Wayne showed up. And of course, it's Wayne, so he immediately knew what was going on. I absolutely could not do anything while he was here, though, because, like, that's basically my dad, and he's put up with enough of our shit. Plus, you know how clingy Violet has been lately. Every single time we think we're finally gonna be able to have sex, something happens and the moment is gone. I am suffering, Robs, and Eddie has been so fucking sweet about it, because he knows I'm- I'm all pent up. He has done everything he can, but it never works out how we want it to.”

Robin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That is not gonna fly.” Robin was standing up and leaving the room before Steve even knew what was happening. “Come on, Jamie, let's go get dressed. Auntie Robin’s got some fun plans today,” he heard her say before moving down the hallway to the bedrooms. He heard James get up to follow her.

God bless Robin Buckley.

By the time Eddie got home, the rest of the pups were dressed and ready to go. Eddie frowned as Lucy was immediately scooped from his arms and taken back outside.

“Hurry up and unload the groceries so I can steal your children,” Robin said as she moved past him.

“What-”

“No questions!”

Eddie shook his head and looked at Steve, who merely smiled and went outside to bring in the groceries. Once everything was inside, and all the pups were safely buckled up into the car, Robin was gone with nothing more than a, “Have fun getting railed!” yelled out the window.

Steve and Eddie were finally alone.

Despite how much he immediately wanted to pounce on Eddie, he knew they had to get the groceries put away first. As they moved around the kitchen, Eddie hummed softly.

“What's Robin’s deal?” he asked just as he was sliding the last box of cereal into the cabinet. “She just up and stole our children.”

“They'll be back later,” Steve said softly, reaching for Eddie’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen. “She just thought we could use some… alone time.”

Eddie smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Alone time, huh?” Steve nodded, dragging Eddie closer and closer to their bedroom. “And what're we gonna do with all this alone time?”

Steve smiled as they crossed the threshold into their bedroom, hand already sliding down to unbutton his own jeans. “I can think of a few things to fill the time.”

Steve and Eddie curled up in their bed, naked and sweaty, but happy. Steve’s head rested on Eddie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall with his breathing. Eddie’s fingers trailed up and down Steve’s back, his nose buried in his hair. They'd have to get up soon to shower and put on some clothes. Their pups would be home soon, and it would be back to business as usual for the Munson household.

But there was still a little bit of time.

“I love you,” Steve whispered, closing his eyes for a moment and letting himself take everything in.

“I love you more,” Eddie replied, just as quiet. “I'm sorry I haven't made more time for you lately.”

Steve shook his head. “It's okay. Our lives are busy. It happens, and it’s not your fault.”

“Still. You deserve better.”

Steve shifted a little in Eddie’s hold, tilting his head so he was buried in Eddie’s neck instead. “I have everything I could ever want and more, thanks to you. We've got four beautiful pups, and our friends, and our life. You work so hard to provide for us, Eddie, so that I can have the absolute privilege of staying home with our babies all day. You didn't have to do all that, but you did. Do I wish I could have sex with my amazing husband more often than we do? Absolutely. But it's not like I'm completely unsatisfied with our life. I love our life, Eddie, even if we do get a little too busy to have time to ourselves sometimes.”

He could feel Eddie’s smile as he kissed his forehead, tightening his arms around him for a moment. “You are truly amazing, my love,” he murmured. “Thank god for Robin Buckley, though.”

Steve chuckled, nuzzling into the side of Eddie’s throat to take in his scent.

“Thank god for Robin Buckley.”

[notaplaceofhonour]

you also can’t take the fact a department or agency has provably engaged in conspiracy or planted evidence in the past as proof that they are currently engaged in a conspiracy now.

is it potential evidence? does it make it more likely/believable? maybe! but if you’re found guilty of committing one crime on one day and then charged with a separate instance of a similar offense later, you are still presumed innocent for the new charge. MK Ultra isn’t proof that the US is seeding clouds with mind-control drugs; the fact false flag attacks are a strategy that exists isn’t proof that any given attack is a false flag; the fact doctors have forcibly sterilized & experimented on minorities in the past doesn’t mean the MMR/polio/COVID vaccine are a poison shot. precedent is not proof.

there is both a grain of truth in “the government did XYZ in the past so it’s not unreasonable to assume they’re doing it now” and a very satisfying appeal that exceeds the proof actually provided in that grain of truth, which makes this the pet rhetorical argument of actual dyed-in-the-wool conspiracy theorists like Alex Jones. I’m not saying using this argument makes a person a conspiracy theorist, or that it’s never appropriate, but its wide use by conspiracy theorists means it’s not exactly helping to show how this isn’t a conspiracy theory.

is it impossible that evidence has been falsified in this case? no. but there needs to be proof that it happened in this particular case. not just suspicions, not just “it could happen”, not just “I (justifiably) don’t trust the police”.

because presumption of innocence is a fundamental right, it applies in all directions. it’s a good thing to be reasonably skeptical, and that includes being skeptical of alternate explanations and our own biases, however reasonably or justifiably we have come by them. proof needs to be proportionate to the allegation.

yes, all Agnifilo needs to do to get her client off is show the prosecutor has not proven without a shadow of a doubt that Mangione is guilty. “Mangione was framed by the police” is a separate sentence. I’m not saying that couldn’t be what happened. but if it’s an allegation someone wishes to make, yet can’t provide solid proof of (not just pointing out inconsistencies & the circumstantial etc), yeah, what people are going to see is

and it’s not just because they’re “bootlickers” who trust whatever the police say. it’s because there’s a lot more moving parts to “there are people who have secretly agreed to frame this man for this murder” than “this man committed this murder”; by ockham’s razor, the burden of proof for the former is going to be higher than the latter, in any case. and in this specific one, there is currently more physical evidence that seems to point to latter than to the former.

I don't really think it's fair to dismiss the idea that that guy might have been framed for killing the CEO as like an unfounded conspiracy theory when NYPD has a proven history of planting/fabricating evidence on people. in 2011 there was a massive investigation of the NYPD and hundreds of cases against people were dismissed after a former police officer testified that they literally have a name for planting evidence on people: flaking. you cannot be out here acting like considering the possibility that cops who do this shit under normal circumstances might possibly also do it when they're under intense global pressure and scrutiny is the same as republicans thinking democrats run a secret pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza restaurant

[gouraminnow]

May I request something with platonic yandere whitebeard and a toddler reader? Like I’m envisioning the crew somehow pick up a young child that recently lost her parents. And she’s traumatized and shy just holding onto dear life a stuffed bunny that is almost as big as her because she’s just so tiny. And poor baby can’t sleep is injured and hides from the crew. She is just so used to sleeping with said stuffed animal and in the same bed as her deceased parents. So she wonders into whitebeards quarters after she was supposed to be “asleep” somehow climbs up onto that giant bed and goes ah yes this feels right and familiar (probably didn’t help that the crew calls him pops and she is like pops? Like papa? I sleep with papa and mama. Mama and papa gone. I no like. New papa? New papa. My papa. Sleep now.) and just melts and cuddles up to him holding her bunny tight falling fast asleep.

Wow this is really specific. I mean this completely genuinely, have some of you anons considered making ocs/dipping your toes into writing yourselves? You've pretty much written your own scenario right here. I got back into writing by chatting with someone I sent long asks to, so I recommend giving it a shot if you're on the fence a all :)

Anyway!

The WBP are the most likely to actually adopt. Everybody else is kind of a deadbeat. Even still, I don't think they'd bring such a young kid along unless there was nowhere safe to drop her off nearby + somebody gets attached. Which is far from impossible.

This kid is either some sole survivor of something horrible, living with adopters deemed unfit for parenting(in which case they likely aren't long for this world), or the dead parents were already connected to the WBP in some way so WB feels some form of connection/responsibility already. Whatever the case, this tiny kid is brought on board.

Real shy like you said, tries to run and hide but won't let go of the massive bunny either so she doesn't get very far... probably does the little kid thing where she sits behind a box or a curtain and thinks she's hidden just because she can't see any of them. They'll humor it, it's better than such a young kid actually finding a proper hiding place and going unsupervised for lord knows how long. Plus it's pretty cute.

Regarding Whitebeard and the sleeping arrangements specifically... I really don't see things working out. First, the kid has to be able to stand the old man's snoring. But hey, I slept through blenders and fire alarms as a kid, so it's possible! But on the other hand...

If Whitebeard rolls over or hell, just moves an arm wrong, he could crush the poor kid. Luckily, he wakes up as soon as she curls up with him. Maybe even sooner, the pitter-patter of her little feet against the floor enough to get his attention. This is the guy who woke up to fend off Ace's knife attack at the last moment, after all. He stays still, making his mind up to scold his adult children for their lapse in care in the morning- she shouldn't be able to sneak by them. That's ridiculous.

But he's not a monster. He's not gonna kick the poor thing out, especially not if she hasn't done much else to get closer to anyone. She clambers her way up onto the bed, dragging the rabbit up with her as she curls up in the strip of space between his arm and his body. And the little whispered murmur of "Papa" once she settles gets him good. So he sighs, resigning himself to a sleepless night, slowly moving his massive hand closer to cradle the poor thing. It's enough to cover her and the rabbit both. He'll be scolded by Marco and the nurses for not getting his rest, and he'll scold his other children for letting the kid sneak into his room in the first place.

It's fine, though. If she insists on sleeping in Papa's room after that night, he has them move a smaller bed in next to his to minimize the risk of squishing. Kind of like a motorcycle side-car but. It's a bed.

[emsprovisions]

Happy Wednesday everyone! I hope everyone being affected by weather or fires is safe and okay 💕 I'm back to working on my secret au this week, so here's a snippet of that!

Carlos manages a tiny smile. “Sorry I was so cryptic. It’s still kind of hard, you know? With the job I have. Austin may be liberal, but Texas is still Texas, and I’m still Latino.”

“Carlos, you know I’m gay too, right?”

Carlos’s eyes snap up to TK’s, his cheeks turning pink. “I did know that, actually,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

TK furrows his brows, confused by the weird way Carlos is acting. “Okayyy…?”

“I mean I hoped you were…so I asked Grace and Judd Ryder about you,” Carlos thickly swallows again, his adam's apple bobbing.

TK just stares at him. “You…asked the Ryder’s about me??”

“I…yeah, I did. I had dinner at their place Monday night and asked if they knew anything about you. I’m sorry, that’s probably creepy. I just thought you were really hot,” Carlos cringes.

TK barks a laugh at that. “I mean I have not been able to stop checking you out, which I know is totally inappropriate but, you’re just…” TK trails off, eyes raking over Carlos’s body now. “Completely impossible.”

It’s Carlos’s turn to just stare wide-eyed back at TK. “You…?”

TK nods. “So very much.”

Carlos’s eyes only widen even more. He glances around at all the case files strewn across the table and back up at TK. “Does this conversation breach some sort of part of our contract?”

“Probably,” TK nods, biting his lower lip and dragging it up between his teeth. “We shouldn’t.”

“We shouldn’t,” Carlos agrees, his eyes trained on TK’s mouth.

Exactly two minutes later, TK’s being pressed down into the couch, with Carlos’s tongue buried in his mouth.

Thank you for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @nisbanisba @carlossreaders @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom No pressure tags @ironheartwriter @tellmegoodbye @chicgeekgirl89 @everlastingday @ladytessa74 @alrightbuckaroo @henrygrass @reyesstrand @eclectic-sassycoweyes @welcometololaland @captain-gillian @decafdino @lightningboltreader +Open Tag 🏷️

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Liam/Noel:

The Gallagher brothers have a very intense relationship that doesn't make any sense to the outside viewer unless one considers the possibility of incest. For 30 years now they have been utterly unhinged about one another in the public eye. Noel has often made incest jokes; Liam once said on-stage once "we had sex last night" referring to him and Noel. Even people writing in actual books and magazines have picked up on the vibes (some stuff that has been printed about them fully feels like it was written by tumblr incestinas except it's like. actual fucking journalists). Also there was this one time in 1996 where they kissed each other with tongue in front of 40 thousand people.

They have been described as “in love with each other” by both themselves and third parties. the lyrics “you’re my lover, i’m your brother.” they kissed with tongue at loch lomond in 1996 and have also been photographed/videoed kissing on the mouth other times. liam regularly groped noel onstage. liam’s entire twitter is just propaganda too. liam talked about impregnating noel once. noel frequently talks about how physically attractive liam is. liam claims that he’s noel’s muse

their song guess god thinks im abel has the lyrics "i could be your lover" while comparing themselves to you guessed it abel and cain. and like. a thousand more instances of them being weird about each other. also noel REALLY wanted a sister and he mentioned it quite a few times and said well liam IS basically a sister or something like that. normal behaviour

Liam literally called himself Noel's good boy on twitter, and called him god a few times after reunion. Noel said he loves make women cry and the only thing that's better is make Liam cry so he can laugh and call him a woman. They literally kissed with tongue and loch lomand is not their only kiss they have two more photos of different kissing to, they literally used the japan kiss video for reunion video. YES THEY DID THAT TF. Noel said they are head over heels in love and said it's illegal in many countries. Also Noel said Liam is like his ex-wife a few times or shit like those cunts are fucking crazy

Other people have described them as more like boyfriend/girlfriend than brothers and said they’re in love. someone on twitter asked liam “if you’re john lennon, who is noel?” and liam said “yoko ono.” another time someone said on twitter “you defo rimmed noel when you were younger” and liam replied “you jealous?"

Deeply weird about each other getting married (them not attending each other's wedding which occurred month apart and then getting divorce around the same time and they stayed at the same hotel for months), intense infamously love-hate relationship and is everyone's favorite soap opera, noel saying "on stage i just wanted him..there's only two of us that will ever get this", prominent theme of shame and crime and impossible dream in noel gallagher works, the elusive meaning of wonderwall which noel insisted is not about anyone but there's good amount of evidence that it referenced back to their childhood and their shared bedroom, liam having mental breakdown several times on twitter about noel, liam's my brother is getting a divorce playlist to which he shared with his 3 millions twitter followers, incest-baiting on main ever since the reunion, brother and lover being interchangeable for noel when writing lyrics, noel (allegedly) lying to liam that his girlfriend cheated on him in order to sabotage their relationship before oasis took off, liam hating noel's latest (ex) wife (sarah), noel writing "the owner of the star on stage" after liam's autograph and so many more insane shit

"[Liam] thinks all the songs are about him. He even thinks Wonderwall is about him." –Noel Gallagher (1997)

"It's all about me it always was and is" –Liam Gallagher (2023)

Japan kiss (kiss is at the end) loch lomand kiss

PLUS they’re back together after 14 years of estrangement! The narrative!

Alexia/Justine:

Sisters that are the emotional center of the movie. They 1) share the cannibalism gene as a metaphor for sexual/freaky desire, 2) have a 'waxing the other's pubes' scene, 3) biting chunks of flesh out of each other scene, 4) a showering off the blood together scene, 5) subtle kissing with a glass between them because 'you're my mirror and i'm codependent with you' scene, 6) sibling-type power play in general that includes a sexual interest proxy. And yet nearly no one talks about them, helppppp

there’s a scene where they’re biting each other’s faces and it literally looks like theyre making out. they hurt each other and spite each other but they always patch each other up after it’s over. there is a scene of them showering with each other, washing the blood off after alexia ate justine’s boy toy. alexia covered it up when justine ate her finger. they hurt each other so bad but they keep coming back to each other.

[lastoneout]

Also another more recent one here!

While wider studies are needed, it does feel really insidious that stimulant medication is misunderstood, demonized, and so strictly regulated that most of us have had to go without for days or weeks at a time sometimes multiple times a year or even EVERY MONTH, and in some places it's almost impossible to actually access at all while the truth is that it is quite literally life-saving medical care for those of us who need it.

I've left the stove on three separate times when unmedicated and I was VERY lucky that none of them resulted in carbon monoxide poisoning or me burning my house down. I've also nearly electrocuted myself or walked into traffic, being off my meds legit feels like all my senses are dulled, I'm far clumsier which leads to injury, forget important things like if I've taken my other meds, meds that if I go off of suddenly or take too much of can cause severe health problems. I've heard horror stories of how hard it is to even just drive safely with unmedicated ADHD and most people don't even realize how unsafe it is until they've gone on meds and learned what normal driving is for a neurotypical person. And the list goes on. Hell, being unmedicated can even lead to losing our jobs, housing, or access to food and support systems, and makes it way harder to keep your house clean, all of which also lead to an increased risk of injury, illness, and death. I've missed rent more times than I can count, racked up credit card debt, had my utilities shut off, all because I just can't fucking remember to pay bills on time without my meds, I've missed fucking black mold in my shower, accidentally eaten food out of date, gotten way too drunk without realizing it, it's a nightmare, it really is.

I really just hate thinking about how many people with ADHD have likely died or been seriously injured or suffered due to simple mistakes that they never would have made if they were properly medicated, and it makes me so angry that ADHD treatment is so hard to get almost entirely based on bullshit scaremongering about addiction. In fact being medicated puts ADHDers at LESS of a risk of turning to alcohol and drugs to make our lives manageable, and it's nearly impossible for someone with ADHD to get addicted to a stimulant medication anyway.

(Not that addicts deserve what happens to them, they need help and support as well, everyone deserves human rights and to have their needs met, this just is a completely fabricated problem when it comes to ADHD and it's normalization is legit killing us. My mom has also nearly died due to not being medicated and she to go through like four different licensed psychatrists until she found one who would actually prescribe ritalin for her, the rest all cited risk of addiction as a reason to deny her even though they should fucking know that isn't a legit concern. One even said she just "didn't want to be held responsible" for her patients forming addictions to ADHD meds. I wonder how she'd feel if she was held responsible for all the suffering her desperation to keep her hands clean has almost certainly caused.)

And tbh I'd also rather a million people get high off adderall than have even one person with ADHD miss out on medical care that can save their life because disabled people shouldn't have to suffer to make up for shit we basically can't do. Why should someone else abusing adderall mean I have to risk my life and go without. Make it make sense.

It is actually way better for 100 addicts to get their fix on pain pills than a single person in pain go without. I call this the "Torture is bad" principle. You should be able to get the good stuff forever after a single doctor's visit. If you're worried about addicts fund rehab centers and needle exchanges instead of torturing people.

[themayorautumn]

i have never written fanfiction in my entire life.

"work is the one redeeming thing that gives them purpose."

fuck me. here's something. i had to get it out of my system. i think about them. a lot.

“He was wearing a green coat, not blue.”

A dark haired man sits in a worn out office chair, face illuminated by a flickering desk lamp. His shirt is half unbuttoned, tie hanging loosely on his neck, begging to be taken off. He fidgets with the knot absent mindedly, as if it brings him some sort of comfort. Maybe he can't bear the thought of it being taken off, the last facade of performative professionalism.

His partner is pacing around the desk he’s sitting in front of, slicking his hair back constantly. It’s obvious that it’s a habit that has stuck around with him from his youth, back when his hair was fuller and eyes were brighter, and a small wink paired with a slight smile would be enough to end his night with a pretty chick in his bed. Tonight, there is no chick, and there is no bed. There is the sound of pen on paper as the man sitting by the desk crosses something off a list. Every single word on it is utterly illegible.

“Blue or green,” the man walking takes a break to light a cigarette. “It was a winter coat, puffy, expensive, you don't see that shit often around these parts. The color is a distraction, Vicquemare.”

“Yet she insisted it was sage green, didn't she? Who the fuck says that? She wouldn't have been so insistent if the color didn't matter, somehow.”

“She’s a wolf, that’s why. It’s a con. She knew what she was doing.”

“Alright,” the dark haired man, Vicquemare, gets up lazily and holds his hand out for the pack of cigarettes. His partner hands it to him. “You’re really speaking out of your ass now, Harry. What the fuck does that mean, ‘she’s a wolf’?”

“Extravagant eye makeup. Crimson red. You been to that bar called ‘Plume du Phénix’? I went there last month with that journalist guy, what's his name-”

“Pierre.”

“Right. Him, he told me it was the perfect place to get some connections. Meet people from the inside, if you catch my drift.”

“Fucking hell. You blew off work to go to a fucking strip club, did you?”

“Didn't blow off work. We went to that stakeout after, don't you remember Vic?”

“Oh yeah. You were complaining about your fucking headache the whole time.”

“Crimson makeup. They wear it there, it’s like their signature look. Blood of their former selves or whatever. Some new age bullshit. They’re dead fucking serious about it though. They don't let you in without it.”

“You wore makeup?”

“Easy now. Don't get too excited.”

Harry walks over to the desk to ash his cigarette, but doesn't get back to his pacing. He stands next to Vicquemare, staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“I did. Pierre made me wear it. They’re fucking wild in there, man. You wouldn't believe it.”

“Why didn't you invite me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“We’re partners. If you’re going somewhere to ‘get connections’, feel like I should be involved.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time. It really is a shame. You would look good in crimson.”

Vicquemare looks away from him for just a second, not enough to mean anything tangible, but enough for Harry to crack a slight smile. He puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps it there as he continues.

“They have this thing against authority of any kind. They preach ‘anarchy’ or their performative version of it, which is where they get together in back alley bars and drink until they don't remember what they're there for. Then they wake up and do it all over again. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.”

“And this is good for connections, how?”

“They're stupid but they're bonded together like a pack of wild wolves. They know everyone in the pack and protect each other like they're blood bound. Probably are too, the freaks.”

“So she was protecting the guy? Cause she knew the coat was actually blue, but saying sage green specifically would make it seem like it would be impossible for it to be any other color?”

“Look at my boy, learning so fast under my coaching. Exactly, Vic. She’s misleading us.”

Vicquemare tugs on the knot of his tie even more insistently, as if an internal fight is going on in his head about whether or not keeping that piece of cloth there is as important as he seems to think it is. Instead of coming to a conclusion, he lights another cigarette and looks back over to the list.

“Wish we talked with her sooner, then. This fucks over our entire theory now, doesn't it? We gotta start from fucking stratch. Find that blue-sage green coat guy. Whatever his name was.”

“We can find him. We can find him, tomorrow.”

Harry reaches for a drawer in the desk and takes out a dark red bottle. He grins and holds it out for Vicquemare to read the label.

“Aged merlot. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the occasion tonight?”

“You do not give me enough credit, Jean-y boy. You do not think I am a man of class, a superior officer who cares for his lieutenant.”

He takes out two glasses from the same drawer and pours two very generous servings.

“Happy birthday, Vicquemare. Here’s to us surviving another year in this fucking shithole.”

Jean looks at his glass wordlessly, his hand still on his tie. He’s stopped fidgeting with it now, as if he’s reached a conclusion but is too afraid, or too cautious to act on it. He smiles. It looks strange on his face, laborious, but genuine. It reaches his eyes and accentuates the wrinkles around them, too many for a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday.

“Thank you, shitkid.”

And it’s clear he means it.

They drink one glass, then one more, then Harry procures another bottle of whiskey this time, which they also finish, and as Vicquemare digs in his jacket pocket for that pack of Astra Reds he’s sure he bought earlier that day, Harry bursts out laughing.

“To think it would ever come to this, huh, Jean? Is this how you imagined entering your thirties?”

Jean finally finds the treasure he’s been looking for and takes a long drag of the cigarette. The ashtray is overflowing, which seems to bother neither of them as cigarette butts litter the desk and the floor. He stumbles over to Harry and smiles, a larger grin than the one before, but it doesn't reach his eyes. They look sad, desperate, and appropriately gray, as if any semblance of color on them would be a disservice to the way they look at the world. Harry sees himself in them, not sure if he’s imagining it or not, and not caring. It’s hard to care, when it’s the only time his reflection doesn't terrify him to death.

Jean takes Harry’s hand and puts it on his tie, curling his fingers around it and tugging on it gently. Harry knows what it means. He’s seen him do it time and time again, always in a different context, but always with the same intention. ‘You take the first step, Harry. You make me believe that you want me, you allow me to pretend.’. It’s his role, he knows it, and he unties the tie.

“I didn't imagine anything. I couldn't imagine anything. What is there to imagine? What is there to fucking want?”

It’s a question that doesn't have an answer. It doesn't have an answer that can be spoken out loud. It doesn't have an answer that can be given without empty bottles clanging around on the desk, without the assurance of their blurred memories, without their hands trembling as they reach for each other, something to hold onto as if nothing else in the world matters. They have to keep moving, they have to keep reassuring each other that they still have this one thing. That the taste of smoke on each other's lips, the crumpled case files surrounding them, and Harry’s rough fingers on Jean’s disheveled hair are enough to make them forget the emptiness that they both feel.

At the end of the day, they don't have anything else.

[klunkcat]

dialogue prompts for ~injury~

11. “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

with maybe portal duo my beloved :3 💙🧡

(I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I read this and immediately thought about how cold it was outside the other day, so this got away from me a little bit <3 if you live in upstate new york and know geographically that this is impossible, know that I looked up exactly enough for this to not be nonsense and that's it so sorry in advance lmao)

tw: mild injury, some mentions of potential suffocation (does not happen), avalanches

Maybe it’s a cliche to say that ‘everything happened so fast’, but in Mikey’s defense, it was freezing and he was thinking about the hot cocoa he was going to make when he got home (with mousse, and sprinkles. Maybe the cherries April had sneakily bought him the other day), and frankly it was freezing. 

The opportunity to hang out at April’s cabin with his brothers upstate had been a dream come true. Donnie kept the train carts from getting too cold regularly, but there was a power outage issue that made things draftier than even their mounds of blankets seemed to be able to drive out these days. When it had been suggested they spend a few weeks away until the grid could come back on, it sounded like a vacation. 

Complete access to an open acre of land in the mountains complete with a two story log cabin home, with full wifi? And a full kitchen? Paradise. Easy trade. Every single one of them had yes and’ed that bit. 

Of course, it didn’t mean they’d left the winter behind. 

One second, they’d been playing ‘Free Willy-Raph’, which is to say competing over who could launch themselves high enough off a snow hill to make it fully over Raph’s head – kind of like a pole vault but with a sled and a lot more crashing limbs– and the next. Well. Mikey isn’t entirely sure what happened next.  

He’d been up the slope, maybe a bit farther than his brothers had gone just to prove a point, spiced up on the barest bit of playful spite after Leo had beat him the last four times in a row, and sure he could get it this time. His brother’s and April looked like stickmen down the ways as he’d started settling down his bright orange sled. 

Suddenly, a shout, or a rush of noise. He wasn’t sure what came first. A roll of white, and he was flying. Swimming, maybe. Then: darkness.

Mikey’s not sure if he blacks out for a second, or when he blinks himself awake it’s just fallen instantly silent, but it’s muffled all the way up to his eyes. Oh, he thinks distantly. There is stuff on my eyes. It’s really unfortunate that his arms are too tired to move anywhere at all near his face. He wiggles his hands anyways. 

It’s cold, too— his thoughts are hard to order. It’s an all over cold like Donnie had stuffed snow down his jacket again. He hopes Raph caught him doing it this time. 

“Not funny, Dee,” he mumbles, and hey. Actually, it’s hard to move his lips, too. He knows something about that— Leo had drilled it into all of their heads after he’d read through one of the big medical textbooks April ‘borrowed’ for him. 

We don’t regulate temperature like people do, Leo’d said. Which means, if you lie around in the tunnels all day or take a funky trip up to skate around without a scarf. Bam, turtle pop. 

Does that mean we can’t go up top at all? Mikey’d whined. It would be horrendous if they couldn’t visit April for a good few months; they had a tradition on Christmas eve of watching the absolute worst Christmas rom coms they could for the entire afternoon before her parents got home from work. They’d never gotten that cold before. 

Leo’d poked Mikey and leaned forwards with a sideways smile. Nah, just gotta stay warm is all, Angie. If you feel sleepy, let me know okay?

“I think I’m sleepy,” Mikey tells Leo. Except Leo isn’t actually here, he doesn’t think. It’s cold, but it’s packed all in at him like there’s something warm under the center of it. He can’t really feel his toes, he thinks one of his boots might have fallen off. April had tried really hard to find some in his size, she’d probably be sad. 

Fuck, Leo thinks. Imagines a Raph who isn’t just as mortified as he is scolding him for it, and swears again just for emphasis.

In theory, he’d known that avalanches were a thing. He’d even made a joke about it as they were driving up and noticed exactly how nestled into the mountainside April’s parents place was. He’d thought it was more for skiers, or freak accidents in ice storms, or dramatic beginnings to a meet cute made by someone who had absolutely no understanding of gravitas. 

Not for little brothers. Definitely not for his. 

The notice that the snow was giving way had been almost nothing— a faint drum sound maybe. He’d hesitated, for a second while goofing around with Don and gotten a handful of snow to the face as a result. Mikey trudging stubbornly up the marker that Leo’d set to try to get even more airtime, bright orange sled bobbing with him as he went. 

He’d looked so tiny. For all his little brother was an absolute powerhouse of a maniac when he needed to be, sometimes it hit him funny just to remember that he was little. 

Then, a cracking noise. Something rumbling— a white hill appearing behind Mikey, farther up the slope, April’s gasp of sudden realization and— 

He couldn’t find Mikey. 

“Maybe he followed it out,” April said, panic making her voice sound thready to Leo’s ears. “If he— in an avalanche, you’re supposed to swim with it.” 

Leo shook his head. Numb down to his finger tips. “He wasn’t even looking at it.” Mikey hadn’t even seen it. His baby brother was a fluid instinctive wave of thunder in motion on his worst days, but it hit him from behind. They’d never been anywhere that had so much snow. 

Donnie made a faint noise to his left, the kind of exasperated hiss that meant he was overwhelmed and shutting down. He typed even more frantically on his wrist guard. 

“He’s here,” Raph said, swallowing roughly. “We just— we just have to find him. Right?” 

Leo nodded back. “Maybe we should, um. If we split up, we can cover more area. Don, can you lend Raph your staff?”

It was a testament to how far deep into shut down mode his twin was that he didn’t even argue, passing it over without a word. Leo tried to center himself. 

“It’s. If you poke first, gently. You can find more under the snow, so it doesn’t get more compact.” Raph’s weight would be a problem in terms of accidentally standing on Mikey, if he was under him. He tried to will his brain away from the mental image and failed. “You go left, I’ll start where we saw him and work down.” 

Raph nodded, mouth set in a wobbly line. Find him Leo, he imagined Raph saying. Please.

It was a tiny one, April’d said, which was the craziest part. They’d had enough time to back up out of the way, and it hadn’t reached the house. Just a top layer shifting with the snowfall from last week, probably. Just bad timing. 

There could be another one, if they weren’t careful. Leo was the fastest, he could portal himself down the mountain if he triggered anything, but it would mean Mike potentially buried under another layer. Shit. And it was cold. He’d almost told Mikey to come back down at first, because he was the most susceptible as the smallest to bone chill and they’d been out for a good hour already, but Mike had looked so determined—

He set out up the mountain. 

“Mike? Angelo?” He called, gingerly plodding through the snow, one careful foot at a time. “Buddy, you’re scaring us a little here. Can you make a noise? Reach a hand up? Come on, I’ll even let you tell everyone you won the jump if you want. Once in a lifetime offer!” 

The wind whistled emptily back at him. He shivered. The chill was already starting to bite further through his layers, or maybe it was the shock of seeing his baby brother’s orange hat swallowed up like it was being erased in front of him. This was supposed to be fun, was the thing. A big relaxation party time after barely surviving the end of the world, again. 

Dad had stayed home to keep the lights on, and April was off school for winter break, and it was supposed to be the best time ever so that dad didn’t get a heart attack and ground them all from ever doing anything until they were forty. Fuck, he thought again, which really put a finer point on things. 

What if Mike was hurt? What if he’d hit his head, or crashed into a tree– what if he couldn’t breathe, and Leo was walking around slowly above him all the while, oblivious. What if this nice holiday trip was the last time he ever saw his baby brother, and the last thing he’d ever said was a teasing insult about being last. 

“Mikey!” He called out more urgently. It echoed back, just on the side of too loud, and he froze. Waited. One one thousand, two one thousand. 

No drum sound, no cracking. Just the potential of his brother suffocating three feet to his left. 

Dad was going to lose it. 

He scanned around, white snow and wind blurring at his vision in every direction. Panic had already settled its grip in his chest so hard it hurt, his hands thrumming with adrenaline. It seemed all dead here, frozen still life portraits of something lost years ago. Grey and white and— there! 

A peek of bright orange, barely poking out of the snow. His sled. 

Leo collapsed beside it, digging immediately, heart in his throat. “Mike! Mikey, can you hear me, buddy? Are you— can you say something?” 

He wiggled the sled free after a long frantic moment, using it like a shovel. What if Mikey wasn’t even under it, what if the sled had flung itself the opposite direction, and Leo was wasting time— 

A gloved hand reached up through the layer of snow, weakly. “Oh thank fuck,” Leo breathed, and dropped the sled to grab at it with both hands. “You okay? Can you— is anything broken?” 

Mikey’s face appeared, paler than usual. Bunches of snow tucked against his eyelids. The most wonderful sight he’d ever seen. 

“C’n get it off,” he said, barely a mumble. Leo leaned in. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” 

Mikey’s face scrunched, a barely there motion but something that shot right through Leo’s heart with every big brother instinct he owned. “Snow. M’ eyes.”

“Oh,” Leo chucked, nervous and rabbit quick with fear. “I got you, shush. Hold on, Sunshine.” He pulled his glove off with a thumb, wiping at Mikey’s eyes as careful as anything. His hands shook violently.

Mikey cautiously blinked up at him, eyes dazed. “Leo, I’m sleepy.” 

Leo shoved his glove back on, pushed the remainder of the snow off Mikey’s legs. Unburying him as much as he could. “I bet, big day for you, huh? How’s about we get you down the hill–”

“No,” Mikey’s voice got a little clearer. “I’m. You said to say. If we’re cold and sleepy. I remembered.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Leo made himself smile. “That’s right, I did say that. Great job for telling me. We’ll get you warmed up right away, okay? But I— I need you to stay awake before that, okay? Can you do that?” 

Mikey’s eyes fluttered. “Try.” 

The whiplash of fear and relief was making Leo dizzy. He nodded frantically, made himself stop. Mikey’d landed the right way up under the snow, had almost certainly hit his head from how his pupils looked, but he didn’t know if anything was broken. He shouldn’t move Mikey until he was sure, but— there was blue, just there ever so slightly. The edges of Mikey’s lips. Shit. Shit. 

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.” 

“‘Mm.” Mikey’s head flopped back into the snow. His hat was missing, Leo realized. He didn’t know where Mikey’s hat went. 

“Okay, that’s– that’s good. Hey, you were saying something about hot chocolate earlier. Can you remind me? You always make it the best.” He slid his arms under Mikey’s shell, one under his legs. Mikey rolled his head towards him as he pulled him towards himself like a limp doll– Leo made himself stop noticing. 

“Mousse,” Mikey said, simply. “And sprinkles.” He added, more crossly. 

Leo chuckled, then grimaced as he carefully moved to stand. “Yum, that sounds great. Hey, nothing hurts, right? You’re not being brave on me, are you?” 

Mikey let out a vague mumble, then frowned. “Raph was. He was gunna eat all my cherries, for the hot chocolate.” 

Fifteen years of growing up with Michelangelo was the only thing that prevented Leo from freezing in sheer confusion. The best way through was with him. “Oh? I’ll tell him not to.” 

“Good,” Mikey said, with a tiny head not he seemed to regret. “You can have one, though.” 

The trek back down was going to be slow, Leo thought. He smiled vaguely at Mike, listening carefully for any angry mountain noises around them. April and Donnie seemed to have noticed him already, at least. April was sprinting back to the house. 

“I’m special? Didn’t know you liked me carrying you so much.”  

Mikey huffed, sounding more like a sniff. “Didn’t put snow d’wn my. Down my jacket.” 

“Hm. Think that might have been the mountain, Miguelito. Are you feeling sleepy still?” 

“Head hurts,” Mikey said after a moment. “Oh. We were sledding.” 

Okay, good. Leo breathed out. “Yep. You got surprise attacked a little bit there, so we’re done for the day I think.” 

“Aw,” Mikey whined. Looked up at Leo with big eyes. “I lost my boot.”

His little brother, Leo thought with a wave of fondness so loud it felt like a heart attack. He nodded seriously. “April will forgive you.” 

He hefted Mikey up higher, making sure his arms are tucked in and his face pressed to the warmest parts of Leo's jacket. Hot baths and big blankets aside, he was going to make Mikey the biggest, sweetest hot chocolate the world had ever seen.

"Big shitty rom-com marathon in your future, Angie."

Mike sighs, just there against his pocket, looking smaller than anything without his mask. "Can we play the mustache game?"

He'll tape as many fake mustaches all over the screen as the kid wants, he thinks. "Mhmm. I won't even cheat."

"Yay," Mikey said tiredly. "Thanks f'r not letting me be a turtle pop."

"You got it, sunshine." His heart right between his hands. "Anytime."

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

@ghost-type-eevee

I can't believe somebody's actually asking for more of my rambling. That's so nice of you to say, though! Have a picture of Alistair with a lamppost I made in the DAO Toolset years ago, just because.

(Except, I don't think there are metal lampposts in Origins, so this one had to do, haha.)

As for Alistair and the Wardens, he definitely also thinks they're the good guys. Though with him, I think his beliefs come from a different dimension than Blackwall's and Wynne's.

Alistair is very young in Origins. He's 20 at best. Most importantly, though, the game gets extensively into how lonely his whole childhood was. How because he was a bastard child, he was given away to Arl Eamon as a little boy. How that was the only family he truly had back then, yet he wasn't even allowed to build a proper connection with him, because Eamon's wife didn't want him around. She was too worried he might make her look bad, and that was more important than the little boy's wellbeing. The old fool Eamon caved and gave him away. Yet again, he was abandoned. But even before that, he spent his time lonely, with Eamon's dogs for company. So, he ended up in the Chantry, undergoing training to be a templar, effectively trapped in an organization that he didn't like (And which he saw for what it was! How scary is that?), training for a job he didn't want to do. Awful place for a child. Even more awful when you know you might have to spend your whole life there. And you'd think he'd find friends there - surely there must have been other kids around his age? But coming from Arl Eamon, the other kids thought he was putting on airs, he said, so he was alone yet again. He grew up like this. Saying that it must have been absolutely miserable, probably doesn't even begin to cover it, I think.

And then... Duncan came and got him out. Impossible to imagine what that must have been like. Alistair makes it clear he genuinely believes that Duncan saved him, that he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Not only that, but Duncan also became his father figure. Among the other Wardens, he found friends, brothers. Finally, probably for the first time in his life, he had a social circle, he had company, friends. Duncan is the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. Finally, he wasn't alone.

And, in the end, what's more worthwhile than killing monsters, anyway? It sure beats decapitating terrified young mages.

But you know all that! However, I'm saying all this because... I think his opinions of the Wardens are heavily influenced by that. Especially that. The Wardens are the good guys, because that's how he's experienced them. The Wardens are friends and family. The Wardens make good things happen.

In comparison with Blackwall, though, Alistair is an actual Warden. He lives the reality of it. He saw Duncan kill Jory during the Joining ritual. He watched as the new recruits drank what's basically poison with a high chance of killing them. I don't think his ideas of the Wardens are as knightly as Blackwall's, but he still does have a high opinion of them. He would probably agree with Wynne, anyway. In part, I suppose, also simply because Alistair himself is a goody-two-shoes. And with him and the Warden being the only surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden, who's going to be there to argue proper methods anyway?

Funnily enough, if you have Alistair as the Warden for Inquisition, it is his strong moral compass and common sense, his refusal to follow the principle that the Blight must be defeated by any means necessary, that helps put an end to Corypheus' plans and save whatever is left of the order at Adamant. He was the only one who protested agaist the Wardens making rather dubious allies, to say the least, to the point that the order started hunting him. Which led the Inquisitor to join forces with him, in the end. (Of course, the order also ends up hunting Stroud and Loghain, but I haven't had them in my game yet, so I can't speak for them.)

And yet! Despite all that, he still defends the Wardens in all the arguments they have with Hawke. He just wants the Wardens to be the good guys so much. And all things considered, I guess I can't blame him.

I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.

In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.

“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”

However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.

Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.

We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.

It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.

And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.

And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.

In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.

[cakeiscoolsblogthing]

I have a theory.

This is going to be a long post, but I don't know how to do the "read more" thing, sorry.

Bear with me for a minute. So I realized recently that I don't actually see that much Mabel or Ford hate, it's mostly stuff I hear from other people. (What I see is generally more subtle, like I read a fic that was good, but Ford took responsibility for Filbrick kicking Stan out. What was he supposed to do? He's 17 too! I also saw someone say the apocalypse wasn't Mabel's fault, it was Ford's. I'd just like to say that it was Bill's fault and Ford was manipulated into building that portal.)

But I do see a lot of Billford. It keeps on showing up in my suggested communities and the "For You" thing, despite The Book Of Bill portraying it as a very manipulative, horrifically abusive relationship. (When I say relationship, I don't necessarily mean romantic. It could have been a completely platonic horrifically abusive relationship.) And I have to wonder if, because Bill is a triangle, we let him get away with things we wouldn't if he were a human and/or doing these things directly to Ford.

Say that there was a movie. In it, there are two human men. Their relationship is clearly built on manipulation, and when the manipulated realizes that he's being manipulated, he tries to leave. The manipulator proceeds to torture him. You see this onscreen and it's horrible. The manipulator drives a nail through this guy's hand, shoves spiders down his throat, humiliates him . . .

Would people ship these two characters? This is the main fandom I'm in, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say probably not. (I'd like to say that I don't have a problem with people who write them as together . . . as long as it's portrayed as the abusive relationship it actually WAS and not a good relationship.)

All of those were actual things that happened in The Book of Bill. I didn't even mention the psychological torture (He makes Ford forget his OWN NAME) and forced sleep deprivation.

But Bill is a triangle. Bill isn't doing these things directly to Ford. He's doing them while in Ford's body, which is arguably possibly more horrific than if Bill was a separate person doing these things to him, but it's not something that could happen in real life.

But in this analysis of Ford: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58698496/chapters/158032750 when speaking of the torture Ford endured during Weirdmageddon, Callipraxia mentions that the fact that people can't electrocute others "takes at least some of the realism and therefore some of the horror out of the situation." (I apologize if this quote is incorrect, I couldn't find the part where she says this in this quite long work.)

And that makes me wonder if, again because Bill is a triangle and the things he does are literally impossible, it makes people less inclined to see his relationship with Ford as abusive when I have read two separate analyses (one of them is the one referred to above) that straight up say "This reads like a domestic abuse situation." One of them (the one NOT linked above, I'll look for it later) says that Bill hits every. Single. Criteria. For an abuser.

Even before Ford learned what Bill was really there to do, their relationship wasn't good. Bill doesn't show up for months and when Ford asks him where he's been, Bill responds by basically gaslighting him and making him doubt McGucket.

And there's one more thing I noticed. I wasn't in the GF fandom when the show was airing, but I'm pretty sure Billdip didn't become a popular ship until after Sock Puppet Opera, much the same as Billford wasn't so popular until TBOB. It's a pattern of "Bill abuses someone, then gets shipped with that someone." It's quite disturbing.

I know people are going to ship what they're going to ship, but Bill x Pines family members really shouldn't be so popular imo.

Tl;dr: If Bill were a human and you saw him torturing Ford, would you still ship them?

I'm pretty sure I forgot some of what I was going to say, so I might edit this later or reblog it with the extra information.

I do want to say that I do NOT support being rude, sending hate comments or death threats to people who do ship this. Don't do that. Just wanted to say, just in case.

I also want to say that though I put "anti Billford" and "anti Billdip" in the tags, I'm pretty sure I'm not an anti, though I haven't been able to fully figure out what the term means.

Another addendum: I am NOT qualified to be talking about abuse.

This is just a theory.

[lochnkey]

Sorry we're late this week

Ibushi got lost looking for his Queen again

but anyway, here's the latest installment of my weekly(ish) Monster Hunter Drawing Challenge with @artgoes-here

[riversaremeanttobefollowed]

We all know that the reason why Bruce Wayne isn't religiously Jewish is because dc are cowards, but also because many of the community itself is cowards. I personally believe it comes from a lack of knowledge about what it even means to be religious because most of the community is Christian or culturally Christian. So as someone that would probably be considered not religious by Christians, but Religious by most other Jewish people, I think that Bruce Wayne fits in this section of being Jewish.

Bruce can't go to the Synagogue often because of the whole being Batman stuff, but he still goes on the high holidays when he can. He celebrates with the Kane family as well! And Kate would obviously understand if he couldn't come because she's Batwoman! Give me a Bruce Wayne says Yiddish curses. Give me a Batman that has a bunch of Chanukkiot that are just so pretty because they are rich and definitely have a ton. Give me Batfamily shabbat dinners when they are able to. Rest days on Saturday for the Jewish members when they are more members in the Batfam to make it work (and it being a mitzvah when he does have to be Batman on Shabbat because its a mitzvah to save a life). Give me Mezuzot on every entryway. Give me a Bruce Wayne who inherited his mother's seder plates and actually uses them. Give me a Bruce Wayne that says stuff like kein ayin hara before giving good news! Give me a confused Dick Grayson when Bruce insults him (its actually a compliment, but to ward against the evil eye you will say the opposite of what you mean) and then Bruce having to explain after he realizes that Dick has no idea why he just insulted him. Give me a Batman that follows Jewish values (more than he canonically does)

Just because someone ins't actively involved within a wider community of that Religion doesn't mean they aren't Religious! Or at least don't give me a culturally Jewish Bruce Wayne that doesn't do any of this. Thats just you stripping away all the Jewish parts of him.

Bruce Wayne is Jewish and you can't just ignore that

[ultfreakme]

Okay so.....this is complicated. I'd like to start off by saying, firstly, we are all allowed to write what we please, but we do not hold sway over how art we create is received. Second, there are distinctions in how different art is perceived and the responsibility this art has towards people. Third, all art is political. Fourth, specific to this post, what does "evil" mean in fiction and how does it relate to reality?

You are absolutely free to write a Horde Lord AU! What you include in this up to your judgement and your vision for this. The reason people are often much more critical of original media like Arcane is because of the thing I said in the second point where different art has different levels of responsibility and distinctions in perception.

Fanfiction is fairly niche. You may opt out of reading it if you'd like, there is no pressure to read. But a mainstream show like Arcane is advertised frequently, you really can't avoid or ignore it the way you would a fanfiction. Arcane also has large social impacts. It has kickstarted new forms of drawing and animation, and its storytelling toolkit has been further utilized by others.

The medium is important here, because large-scale corporations and companies can use things like Arcane to push specific messaging and propaganda. We all obviously show our politics to SOME extent in our art, it's impossible to extricate that, but individuals such as fan creators don't have similar influence so even if a fic writer writes something super "problematic", it's fine, because it's an individual creator putting out their art without any urgency for the general population to see it or endorse it. This is important because art can and often has been used to influence political opinions, specifically by corporations.

This difference in the ways in which fanfiction and original media affects the world, and our reaction to story elements in it is because of the above points.

So, yes you can make your lesbians as evil as you want. But a lesbian character in a fanfiction killing everyone and idk, torturing or SA'ing someone would be fine. But put that on the big screen and people will have obvious criticisms because media has often portrayed lesbians as predatory, which in turn propagates lesbophobia. We need to keep in mind this gap.

Now in Arcane, Caitlyn is a cop. She's actually head cop and there are scenes of her brutalizing poor people and their neighbourhoods by gassing them. Her girlfriend Vi is from these poor neighbourhoods, and Caitlyn has told her to her face something along the lines of "your blood makes you as horrible as your sister"(she also once called Vi's people "animals"). Now in fanfiction, this would be questionable but if a reader is uninterested they can just leave if they disagree with this kind of a plot line. It doesn't affect anyone, it doesn't cause waves in pop culture, etc.

But Arcane is HUGE. So if a Cop Character is calling people animals, gassing them, hitting their s/o and they still get their s/o with a happiy ever after and no repercussions- it is deeply political. Defense of Caitlyn for the above actions has stirred a huge wave of racism against a Black character and his VA. People are speaking in rhetoric defending police brutality. The show also neglects prison abuse and SA by ignoring Vi's trauma from being falsely imprisoned.

ALL of these decisions are deeply political when coming from corporation creating a story specifically to sell and audience a product(Arcane as the show, League of Legends as a game). This was not created with the mindset of a singular individual going "what if I explore this idea?" it is a large entity pushing a certain messaging to convince a large audience of a very specific rhetoric.

This is why it's important to be careful and thoughtful to some extent when creating things. Obviously that doesn't mean there is no place for "problematic" or "evil" art, it's just, be aware of the things your art is gonna say. AO3 has a tagging system so we can all go into it with awareness.

And, the idea of "evil". So fictional evil and irl evil are obviously very different. Characters get leeway so long as their story is done well. Irl, murdering hundreds would be bad, but in fiction, no one would care. But, if in fiction a character tortures someone or is a pedophile, people would generally have the same amount of hatred and disgust for the character as an irl person who's done the same. Why? Why do we have these distinctions in crime? That's also deeply political and important to dissect.

Violence has been normalized in media and death as a concept holds different weight in fiction. SA and such are portrayed consistently as horrible and evil, and the nature of these crimes in relation to people vary. Fantasy killing with a giant laser beam or a cool sword is distinctly removed from reality and you can suspend disbelief and that gut reaction people have.

SA, torture, etc, are depicted with a lot more real life connections and thus it feels impossible to separate it from our sentiments in reality.

This is also what happened with CaitVi. Police brutality as it is depicted in Arcane has been inspired by real life police brutality. They used pictures of protests in recent years as references for drawings, and imprisoned the characters in the protests. CaitVi is a harrowingly realistic depiction of a cop character being abusive towards an S/O. In a Horde Lord AU, Catradora are in outer space on a distant planet with magic-tech weapons. SPOP carefully depicts its violence as distantly from reality as possible. CaitVi, does not, and on top of that it tries to make it seem like Caitlyn is the good guy despite all her actions as a cop. This is real. People have experienced this directly and have had their experiences trivialized.

All of these aspects combined led to a disdain for CaitVi. So unless you're like, idk, genuinely writing something with the intent of convincing a large audience that fascism is good, actually, and we as a society irl should all just let any colonizers have at it, you're good.

Does Toxic Yuri have a limit? Genuinely asking here (a potential Horde Lord Catradora AU)

Okay, so for the last while I've been having a kinda exsistential crisis about a particular fic I wanna do. Namely, I want to do my own take on a what if Adora stayed in the Horde AU, aka the Horde Lord AU as some people call it.

I saw another post earlier that was saying that it's obviously okay to have evil characters in a story and whatnot. I'll link it here. https://www.tumblr.com/dovesndecay/760032664866701312?source=share

So like it's clear to me people love their evil, messed up toxic lesbians, right? Except I've been seeing stuff about Arcane on the sidelines and while I haven't seen it yet, I know that some stuff about how the two girls in that show were written and depicted pissed off a lot people.

So is there like some limit on how evil lesbians can actually be in stories that people just don't wanna talk about? Is this just an internet nuance is dead thing?

I've been conflicted about this sort of thing for a while and to be honest I don't really have answer to it. If anyone wishes to chime in and help me out, I'd appreciate it.

[queerpdsys]

seeing disability awareness posts end with “TLDR; no, read it” is fucking WILD