#conversing with vivienne is like the only time i felt connected to my character and had anything meaningful to say about his experience

[chernychnyi]

i usually like my dragon age love interests to contrast my characters somehow and yet the desire to romance emmrich as a fellow academic... would it be weird if he peer reviewed my papers before. would it be unprofessional

[asheli1515]

The Ghosts We Carry || Rafe Cameron - Chapter 1

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<<previous next>>

a/n: soft!rafe x fem!character (OC)

word count: ~2k

warnings/disclaimers: fluff, angst, familial loss, grief, brief mention of substances (alcohol, drugs, etc.), season 4 plotline (I'm grieving), out-of-character rafe after a while, emotional intimacy, smut is there if you squint, blood, violence, dangerous situations, dual pov

summary: after a reckless night of partying, Rafe Cameron finds himself alone at the beach walking home. During his trek, he bumps into a quiet, mysterious newcomer who seems to see beyond his tough exterior. Despite Rafe's reputation and his defensive attitude, the newcomer refuses to judge him. They strike up an unexpected connection, and soon, their late-night conversations become the highlight of Rafe's days. As their bond deepens, Rafe finds himself torn between his need to prove himself and his new feelings for someone who doesn't want anything from him but the truth. Will Rafe let down his walls and risk everything for love, or will his inner turmoil and need to make something of himself tear them apart?

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VIVIENNE

I found myself on a beach in the town that I would now have to call home, unfamiliar with my surroundings. The night brought a chill I had never felt in my evenings spent in Texas. I felt a nostalgia for something I never thought I would have to, for my old life, my old self. The events that led to this would fundamentally change anyone; I was not the exception. I felt like a shell of the person I once was, haunted by memories that I could never get back. I just couldn’t bear to stay there anymore as all the places I frequented brought up memories that hurt to relive.

It had been 3 months since my brother’s sudden death shook the foundation of my life. He had been my caretaker for most of my life as my father was out of the picture, and my mother had to work several jobs in order to pay rent. He was my solace in this unrelenting world, and suddenly… he was gone. He was driving to my apartment one evening for our weekly dinner. That was until a drunk driver ran a red light and swerved into his car, hitting it head-on. He was pronounced dead on the scene, and I received the call from the police soon after. It felt like it was my fault because he was driving to my apartment. Maybe if we had rescheduled just that one time, he would still be alive.

My whole world was shattered; my older brother, by 2 years, was dead, and I felt as though maybe I had died with him. I have just been going through the motions for the past months as I tried to figure out how I was supposed to live without him. He was only twenty-four and had so much left to offer this world. I don’t think I will ever find it in myself to forgive the driver who killed him, and that alone haunts me. I am not a vengeful person and always believed myself to be forgiving. However, this man was the reason I would never see my brother again, and this caused me to have an anger I had never felt before.

Moving to Kildare was supposed to be a fresh start, but I still found the painful memories following my every step. Tonight was a particularly difficult night, and I needed fresh air. That is the reason I am currently leaning up against a decaying tree trunk admiring the ocean I rarely got to see in Texas. The complete and utter silence of the night was something I needed so desperately, but I also craved human interaction. I’ve barely talked to anyone since moving, as Kildare is very tight-knit and wary of anyone new. This fact is understandable, but I still longed for new relationships. The bleak outlook on this situation made me question my decisions. I couldn’t be alone anymore, but I had no idea how that would change.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps, which was odd, considering it was around two in the morning. I turned to look and saw a man who looked around my age strolling down the beach. He seemed in no hurry to get anywhere in particular, as his pace was nothing of note. His gaze finally reached me, and his blank face was replaced with a questioning look. It was almost as if the universe heard my pleas for someone, anyone, to talk to because there he was—a stranger that I could hopefully rope into a conversation.

“Hey, you!” I almost shouted at him in an attempt to get his attention. It seemed like he didn’t hear me, though, because I received no response. “Hello? Did you not hear me?” I asked with a genuine curiosity. He stared at me momentarily, almost as if he was calculating his next move.

He then asked a question that nearly made me giggle because of its ridiculousness. I wasn’t sure if I had heard him right because he had just questioned who I was talking to, as if the beach was full of people. “Yes, I’m talking to you. Do you see anyone else near us?” I laughed as I asked him this. “No, I guess I don’t,” he answered straight and to the point. His face again showed a look of calculation as if he was unsure of what to do next.

I found this fact quite endearing and looked for a way to keep the conversation going for as long as possible. I pat the sand next to me to indicate that I wanted him to join me, if only for a moment. When he saw this, he hesitated before finally deciding to take the seat next to me.

As soon as he sat down, I smelled a mix of what I could only assume was alcohol and expensive cologne. This fact did not shock me as I was on the rich side of the island, which they called Figure Eight. I took a moment to look at him as I could not see him before when he was further away. His buzzed haircut complimented him well, and his blue eyes looked like the ocean only mere feet ahead of us. He was wearing a nice polo and some khaki pants that solidified the fact that he had money.

I noticed he was slightly buzzed and seemed focused on the horizon before us. I resolved to let him speak first, so I mirrored his actions and looked out towards the expansive waters. A long time passed before he spoke, but he eventually did.

“Who are you?” he asked, intrigued by what my answer would be. The question didn’t come as a surprise to me as no one in this town knew who I was. “My name is Vivienne Whitlock, and you are?” I questioned back as I was just as eager to learn about the person sitting next to me. He took in my answer and replied, “Rafe Cameron.” He did not elaborate further but had another question ready to ask me before I could say anything.

“Why have I never seen you before?” he inquired. I knew every time I introduced myself to someone, I would have to answer these questions, but that didn’t make it any easier. It was hard to explain why I moved to Kildare without explaining my brother’s passing. It was like reopening the wound; I wasn’t sure if I could do that right now. However, something about this Rafe Cameron character intrigued me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I still smelled the alcohol on him, and it was clear he had just left a party to head home.

Maybe that is why he decided to walk, as he was clearly still feeling the effects of the drinks he had consumed not long before. I admired him for this fact, and, at that moment, I decided to trust him. I knew I had no information about him besides his name, but at least until this conversation ended, I knew there would be no reason for me to be worried about the person next to me.

“I just moved here from Texas. I needed a fresh start.” I say, hoping that my explanation was enough. He nodded as if understanding the need for a new beginning, something I’m not sure he had the privilege of having. “I see. Any reason why you chose here of all places?” he followed up. I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer this question, but I responded, “There is no particular reason why I chose to move here. I just needed to get away from some bad memories.” My face betrayed me at that moment as tears pricked at my eyes.

I looked away from Rafe, not wanting to cry in front of him as I had just met him. I had no idea what he thought about my reaction as he was silent, and I didn’t dare to look back at him. Suddenly, I felt a hand lay gently on my back, and I jumped slightly at the contact.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just didn’t know what else to do,” he said defensively. I sighed as I replied, “You don’t have to apologize. I just wasn’t expecting that because, if I’m being honest, I haven’t talked to anyone in a while.” I don’t know why I told him this as I swore to myself that who I was back in Texas wouldn’t follow me here.

That was the whole reason for the move, anyway. Yet here I was, explaining my entire life story to someone closer to a stranger than not. I looked back at him, and his expression was hard to gauge. I could have never anticipated what he said next.

“Why is that?” His response was said with an amount of curiosity that shocked me. I thought that after he saw me almost cry, he would immediately get up and leave. He didn’t do that, though, as he remained in place, making it seem like he needed this conversation to continue as much as I did. This reaction confused me as it didn’t seem to fit who he was. He had a rough exterior that seemed like it took people a while to get through. He seemed to almost care about why I was here on the beach this late at night.

“I don’t have anyone anymore. That’s why I am sitting alone on a beach at two in the morning.” I say with a light but sad tone. He seems to absorb and process my words within a few seconds. His response took longer, though, as it was apparent he was trying to find the proper response. “Why is that?” He asked quietly and carefully, as if saying it like that would potentially lessen my anger if that was the response I chose. I stared at the rolling waves as if they would give me support as I answered him. I decided to be honest with him as I would probably never see him again after tonight.

“My brother, Griffin, died a couple of months ago because a drunk driver hit him while he was on his way to my apartment for our weekly dinner,” I responded as a few tears trickled down my face. I wiped my tears and finally gathered the courage to look back at Rafe. His gaze held a sympathy that knocked the breath out of me. It was more emotion than I ever expected from him, and it made me realize that I had been longing for someone to talk to about this for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Vivienne. That must have been awful.” His voice was sympathetic, just like I expected it to be. I nodded in agreement, and, in that moment, all of the emotions I had been holding in since Griffin’s death came flooding out of me. It was like a dam had opened in my soul because I felt all the pain I had locked away three months ago. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed quietly, the only other noise being the waves hitting the shore.

“Hey, i-it’s okay. What do I do? What should I do?” Rafe questioned, obviously shocked by the scene that was unfolding before him. Instead of saying anything, I just laid my head on his shoulder because that was all I could do. He stiffened at the contact, his arms suspended above me as he was unsure of the correct response. I eventually felt his arms wrap around me as he relaxed into the hug. I felt some tension leave his body just as it had mine. We stayed like that for a while as it was apparent that the physical contact was needed more than either of us was willing to admit.

Rafe continued to act the opposite of what his demeanor suggested, and I realized he might be just as damaged by his circumstances as I was. That thought comforted me as I noticed the sun peaking above the horizon, indicating the arrival of morning.

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a/n: hey yall! This chapter introduces our main character, yay! Can't wait to continue this story. Please comment and lmk what yall think!! - Ash <3

[honourablejester]

I do wonder if a part of it isn’t that Vivienne is, in many ways, the character in the game most impervious to player actions. She’s not interactable in the same way almost everyone else is.

What I mean is, you cannot affect Vivienne the same way you can affect other characters. I started this train of thought thinking of it in terms of vulnerability. It’s more than that, but that is a part of it. You just don’t see Vivienne vulnerable. Ever. Cole is almost the only window onto that part of her. Everyone else, you at some point see them angry, hurt, despairing, and acting like it. Even Bull, even Solas. Even Leliana, especially if you take the mage route and see her in the alternate future. But Vivienne … She’s Madame de Fer. She’s iron and ice. She never lets you see it. When she asks you for the heart, she never tells you what it’s for. When you betray and disappoint her to breaking point, she doesn’t break down, like Cassandra, or get angry, like Dorian. She stays cool, calm and collected, and basically tells you that you can do what you like, she knows what her cause is, and she will continue to fight for it, with or without you.

You can’t affect Vivienne. Not the same way. Almost everyone else with interesting viewpoints, Bull or Dorian or Anders or Fenris, Cullen, even Solas, they’re romanceable. The ones you can’t romance, like Leliana, your choices still ‘soften’ or ‘harden’ her, or Cole, where you influence his whole being. Your actions shape and influence and change them. But not Vivienne. She will carry on, with or without you. The most you can do is help her (and with her cause, not her personal life, not her vulnerabilities and wants), but you can’t dent her or change her or see anything of her that she doesn’t want you to see.

It's interesting to compare her to Solas, another character whose cause or viewpoint you can’t so much as dent. But Solas, under admittedly quite specific circumstances, can be romanced. He can be seen vulnerable. You can write an epic tragedy from his love and the fact that it is not enough to stop him in his cause. He’s interactable, on a personal level, and so people roll better with the fact that he’s an incredibly racist dickbag who’s basically aiming to genocide the world and start again.

(The two conversations in the game that got my back up hard were Dorian’s unthinking defense of slavery, and Solas asking my dwarf inquisitor if I felt more moral since getting the anchor. More moral. You cannot have morals if you aren’t connected to the fade. You’re an empty shell of a person until his elven power connects you to the fade and grants you a fucking soul, or however he’s thinking about it. I swear, I have never wanted to beat a character’s head in more than that moment. By comparison, Vivienne is so chill. I can see where she’s coming from, and I don’t agree, but I also don’t want to kick her fucking teeth in, unlike Solas pretty much every time he opened his mouth after that moment. Vivienne, at least, feels like she’s thinking of everyone in the mage/templar/chantry/commoner mess as people. Dorian, I got over too, because it’s clearly just upbringing and he’s obviously already starting to course-correct. But Solas. And, yes, you can affect Solas too, you can soften him even if you’re not an elven woman he can fall in love with, but …)

Anyway. I think at least part of the thing with Vivienne is, she doesn’t need you. You can’t affect her. She’s cold and aloof and a bitch. And you can’t dent her.

I don’t mean that everyone has to be able to destroy a character to like them. But I do think that most people, especially in video games where the whole fantasy is how your actions change things, want to be able to affect characters, and feel more inclined to like them if they can interact and possibly influence them.

And … The other thing with Vivienne is, that’s not a writing error. It’s in character. It makes perfect sense for a woman who has survived the Great Game with the dual handicaps of magic and race. Of course she’s not going to let anyone see her vulnerable. Of course she’s never going to let on that someone has hurt her, even if they have. Of course she’s not going to tell you what the heart is for, in case you choose to use that information against her. There’s a reason she became Madame de Fer. There’s a reason she chose ice magic. She has to be iron and ice. She cannot lose her cool, she can’t bend or break, because the second she does, she’s done.

The aloofness is fully part of who she is. I don’t wish the game had made her romanceable, because I loved the hints we got of her relationship with both Bastien and Bastien’s wife. I don’t even wish they’d made her more openly vulnerable, because I have so much respect for how much she can hold steady in the face of absolutely anything and push her way through regardless.

What I do wish they’d done was let you save Bastien. I wish they’d made the choice of which heart to give her meaningful.

Because … I get what they were going for. Some tragedies are unavoidable, sometimes you can’t save someone no matter how much you love them. And seeing Vivienne lose him was a moment of vulnerability. But. I wish they’d given us, as the Inquisitor, a way to impact her life in a way that wasn’t purely related to her cause and her politics. Helping her or denying her the position of Divine is such a cold, political way to interact with her. But helping her save the man she loved, having your choice and your willingness to help her matter, would have made so much of a difference. As it stands, if you give her the wrong heart, it doesn’t matter, because he dies anyway. You were never going to be able to help her. It’s just a personal betrayal, but it has no concrete consequences.

Now, I also understand, and even agree with, the argument that it’s the choice itself that should matter. You chose to betray her, and that should matter in and of itself, even if it makes no material difference to the world. The choice, and it’s effect on her, should matter on its own merits.

I just … I feel like it would have been a way to have given her something, to have had a meaningful, non-political impact on her life, to have helped her and made her happier, if the game had let us save Bastien. If there had been a difference in outcomes, one where you put your trust in her and honestly helped her, and it saved a life, and one where you distrusted and lied to her, and then saw the cost of it.

I don’t want Vivienne herself to change to be more influenceable and likeable. I would have liked if the game gave you options to help and affect her without her entirely storyline revolving around politics and unavoidable tragedies.

I am convinced people who don't like Viv haven't actually taken her out much/spoken to her at Skyhold and instead are running on 'grrr mage who likes circles bad bad'.

Vivienne was not born in Orlais. She was born in Wycome to merchant parents who were constantly on the move, though she was taken to the circle relatively early. I feel like one thing Viv gets shit for is her place in the Grand Game (despite Leliana and Josephine also being adept players). But it's important to note that Viv is well aware her position in Orlais is not one born of friendship and that she is indeed widely hated (TW for in-game racist comment about Viv below):

"Oh but Viv desires power! That's bad" yes well 'power' allows her freedom and a life beyond the circle walls. She has dialouge where she specifically talks about how you must learn to live with restrictions but adapt to give them the best life they can give you. And that's what she's doing! Constantly! Besides, her desire for power is one of the fun things about her character and something she has in common with plenty of other dragon age characters (Leliana, Josephine, Solas, the Inquisitor etc.) She's just more open about the fact that that's what she wants.

She also enjoys the game (as do Leliana and Josephine) but she's right in the Winter Palace when she tells you if she wasn't good at it she'd be dead. World of Thedas Vol. 2 mentions how after she began her affair with Bastien multiple bards and assassins were sent after Viv ('half of them were returned to their employers frozen solid. The rest were persuaded to work for her instead' shdkdkdlf I LOVE her).

Anyway, as for her views on the Circle, I also don't agree with them. But it's worth noting where they come from:

So, here we learn that Viv is scared of the templars in some capacity, but still believes they are necessary. Perhaps that belief is because of what happened during the rebellion and the trauma she suffered from seeing various mages and tranquil killed needlessly. I truly believe that when she calls the templars a useful 'tool' but accepts that there are rotten eggs among them, she means to enact reforms from the inside that would stop the sort of behaviour we see. I'm not sure this would work, but it's worth seeing it from her side. She sees the templars as what they were founded to be: to protect magic and mages, both from those who would seek to destroy it from the outside and demons who would prey on mages. Do I agree with her? No! But! Plenty of fandom favourites hold basically the same philosophy about the mage/templar conflict: Cullen and Fenris in particular.

And Viv? Viv has so many more qualities than just the above parts of her characterisation. She Cares. I find the people she will shout about if they fall particularly telling:

The two 'youngest' members who she has contentious relationships with, she is genuinely worried about in battle.

And then we have:

(This post is getting v long but also please see: every single Bull/Viv interaction because she basically adopts him, and every single Sera/Viv interaction because they wind each other up but Viv also does play her own 'pranks' right back at Sera which is delightful)

She cares. She even cares about Cole. And she cares about the first victims of war, the serving staff, in the Winter Palace. She cares about the tranquil when you enter the hut and find out the truth about the shard skulls. She cares. But she also knows caring is a weakness that could lose her her power and position so she's careful with it, guarded. Which in itself is such a wonderful lovely characteristic.

She's funny, sassy, clever. She is considered an 'exceptional scholar' (World of Thedas Vol. 2). Just like Solas, she is actually envious if you go to adamant without her because she finds the idea of being in the fade physically to be fascinating! And just like Dorian she's underestimated when it comes to her intelligence because of everything else about her.

(Side note: she's was also friends with Bastians wife and there's no jealousy between them which i love, and Bastian sent her enough flowers to fill an entire floor of the circle tower when they first met which is just. V sweet)

She's just an amazing character. I love her deeply. I wish more people loved her and saw the complexities of her. Because she is so interesting, her interactions with the other characters are interesting. And, like I said before, she's no better or worse in her views than Cullen or Fenris when it comes to mages and yet the fandom makes 12 page long think pieces about those characters and why it's okay for them, but will vilify Viv and pretend that's not a double standard.

Anyway. I love her. And just felt like expressing that this fine morning.

[softkuna]

Sukuna || Interview || Fic - oc

Part 1

Content   ║  Punk!Sukuna x oc. There is a reader version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count      ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Original Character. Swearing. Female Pronouns.

Creator   ║ I swear this will go somewhere, I just enjoy the set up too much. So this is the version with the oc that I have. Her first name is Koyori. I have tagged this so that if you dislike ocs, you can read the other version. But! If you like ocs, hopefully you’ll like her ;v;. I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!!

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

  “-didn’t you say the band?”

  “Yeah, but this is better.”

  “Sure… but what happens if-“

  Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

  His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

  Koyori whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

  “Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

  “I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

  Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

  Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. Koyori held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

  The interview process began.

  Koyori sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “I’m Yama Koyori, and to join me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

  The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

  “After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

  Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

  Much of his dissertation, Koyori hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

  “There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

  His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

  Koyori leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

  Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but Koyori found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and Koyori would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

  The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

  Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer. As practiced, “I ans-“

  “You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Koyori’s head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

  The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as Koyori’s pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

  “Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.  

  “Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

  “Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

  The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

  It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. Koyori scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

  As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

  Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

  Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

  He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

  The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

  God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

  “Let me check the tag.”

  “What?”

  The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also sorry.”

  Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

  He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

  “I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

  He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

  “While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

  While the editor and videographer chatted together, Koyori leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

  She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

  He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘Yami Koyori would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, If his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

  “Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

tags: @lovesakusa​

[athena1138]

DA Question Meme

Literally nobody asked for this but I don’t wanna do my homework so HERRRRRE WE GO! edit: doing this made me realize just how attached I am to the same 4 names lmfao. #creativity i guess. 

01) Favorite game of the series?

I like a lot of things about all of them. I like the companion interactions from Origins, the story from DA2, and the character creation and map of Inquisition. But they all have things I don’t like, too, so I’m not really sure I have a favorite. I think DA2 and Inquisition are tied, tbh.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

My roommate had been (trying) to play Origins for a while so my interest was piqued. Then, I was sitting in my Spanish class and realized PSN was having a hella sale so I went looking for some games. Inquisition GOTYE was on sale for like $70 with all the DLCs so I was like, “Hm. Yeah. Aight.” I then proceeded to get 89 hours banked in the course of like...5 days. It was insane. There was much coffee and little sleep. (I said trying because her Xbox 360, both of them, absolutely refuse to let her finish it before the console corrupts something in the data.)

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

Origins 1 1/2 times. I got all the way to the end with my elf before Alistair broke up with me to be king so I said, “AW HELL NAH” and literally started over just so my Warden could be queen. 

DA2, 2 full times and I’m on my 3rd for “fanfiction research” purposes. 

Inquisition, once all the way through the main storyline, started again, then started again. 

04) Favorite race to play as?

Ya girl loves her some elves. I was a Dwarf as my first ever character, but the lack of romance options in Inquisition turned me off to them. I do like them a lot, though. 

05) Favorite class?

Rogue. Seriously, lockpicking should be a universal thing. Otherwise, mage. 

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

I try. Most of the more personal decisions I have a hard time changing. Like, should Cole be human or more spirit-y? I can’t. I always make him human. But I intentionally try to change major story arcs. Both my Hawke mages and my mage Inquisitor have supported the Templars where I supported mages 100% before. 

07) Go-to adventuring group?

Origins:  Alistair is almost always a must. My first playthrough, he literally went on 100% of my quests with me. Then usually Wynne and Zevran, but I try to switch it up where I think I can spare having a healing mage. Shale and Oghren are my buds. 

DA2:  Vikara Hawke--Fenris, Anders (li,) then either Varric or Isabela. Belladonna Hawke--Fenris, Carver then Avaline, Varric (hc li.) Titania Hawke--Fenris, Bethany then Merrill, Isabela (li.)

Inquisition: Oh boy. I just. I just love them all. Just so fucking much. Picking my group is painstaking, man. Gemma Cadash--Iron Bull (li,) Dorian, Cole. Vikara Lavellan is tricky because she’s a mage, but Dorian is my literal best friend and she romanced Solas so?--Solas (li,) Dorian, Iron Bull or Blackwall. If it’s a tricky area or I need a lock picked, I’ll usually switch Dorian with Cole. Vanaya Adaar--Blackwall, Dorian, Vivienne or Sera. (Josephine LI)

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

So, I had no fucking idea what Inquisition was about. You can go find my “first playthrough” posts for proof, so I was just going with the flow. But starting completely from the start, I think I put a bit more effort into my Wardens, and most definitely my Hawkes and now my new Inquisitors. 

09) Favorite romance?

Cullen. #1, always. Honestly. I know, basic, but you know what? He’s a goddamn tormented cinnamon roll. I also really love his v.a.. Like I’ll listen to the romance while doing homework to keep me focused. Is that creepy? Shit. That’s creepy. But in Origins, idk. Alistair is adorable, but Zevran is just...damn. I want to try Leliana’s romance sometime. Da2: Fenris, but I’m just so goddamn in love with Varric, man. I know it’s not a romance but IT FUCKING SHOULD BE. 

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

Bruh I don’t even read my homework.

11) If you read them, which was your favorite book?

12) Favorite DLCs?

For, like, functionality? The Black Emporium lmao. I like to change my appearance as the game progresses. But for fun? I like the Deep Roads DLC for Inquisition, the Legacy DLC for DA2, and tbh I haven’t played many DLCs for Origins yet, just the one for Shale and the one for Morigann. I think I’ll like Leliana’s, though, and Awakening. 

13) Things that annoy you.

Can’t change companion armor in DA2

No voice for Origins. (I understand it, but starting from Inquisition, it’s frustrating. Plus, I’m blind, and the biggest subtitles are still hella small.)

You can’t just go strike up a conversation with companions in the field aside from Origins. 

Dwarves can’t be mages

THERE ARE NO DWARF ROMANCES

The Qunari just felt really..underwhelming til Inquisition? Like. Sten is just a large, stoic human essentially. All the Qunari in DA2 have the exact same face, and nothing about their titles or names are explained. They’re a giantass plot point and you’re telling me not even the Arishok could get some different horns or maybe a face lift or something? 

When your companions break up with you. Like goddamn. Rude. 

The Dark Ritual. 

Forcing Alistair to be King so I don’t have to choose between him or my Hawke. He’s so unhappy as a ruler, but it’s better for his safety. Such a dick move, guys, really. 

Leandra just straight up forgives Gamlen for blowing the entire fortune? Nah, Ma. He’s dead to us now. 

Carver’s such a dick, man. 

Caves,caves,caves,caves,caves in DA2. Like goddamn. 

I have soooo many more but I have to get up in 4 hours lmao

The dog in Origins counts as a companion

Even if Hawke is a mage, Fenris doesn’t cool it with his anti-mage shit. Ever. 

Anders is a dick, man. A beautiful one, but a dick. 

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Kirkwall.

15) Templars or mages?

Mages, always. Supporting the Templars makes me so frustrated with myself. 

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

So, cross-games, they’re in the same universe. But as for, like, all my Inquisitors? Idk. I’ve never really thought about it. I don’t HC that I have like...6 Inquisitors or even sibling Inky’s running around, but I don’t see a reason why they wouldn’t keep existing just because one of them got the Mark. I do try super hard to connect all my main characters as closely as I can, just for funsies. 

Like, my new Lavellan was from the same alienage as my Warden except she got swept up in that slave-trade business at the age of like 10. Then she lived as a slave in Kirkwall til she ran away at 15 and was taken in by Merrill’s clan. She and an older hunter were out hunting when the massacre happened, so he ends up taking her up north to meet up with another clan he knows is fartin’ around there. (Lavellan.) So, she remembers Varric and Hawke from their few trips to visit Merrill’s clan on Sundermount. 

Shit like that, y’know? 

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Random things, usually. My current Hawke’s mabari is called Wrex, last one was Oberyn. I don’t remember any of my Wardens’ mabari names.

18) Have you installed any mods?

I fucking wish I could. Console only over here my dude. 

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

Vikara Tabris--No, absolutely not. She just wanted to stay in her alienage and take care of her family. She didn’t want to get married, and when the noble dude kidnapped them all she just straight up wrecked them, so she didn’t have a choice. She’s pretty bitter about it all, but Alistair makes it better. 

Titania Cousland--Hells. Yes. From the moment she heard Duncan was coming, she was like a fucking dog with a bone begging that her dad let her join. 

20) Hawke’s personality?

Vikara Hawke:  Kind, peaceful. Blue? I think? The colors represent the dialogue wheel, right? Idk, man, the nice shit. 

Belladonna Hawke:  Sarcastic af. 

Titania Hawke: Agro to others but not her friends. 

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

Look, fam, there are only SO MANY GODDAMN PIECES OF LIGHT ARMOR AVAILABLE. AT SOME POINT, WE ALL FINNA LOOK ALIKE IT’S NOT MY FAULT so like yeah

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

oh jesus

ORIGINS-        Vikara Tabris--so much, man. The most important thing? I think she would’ve put Anora on the throne instead.         Titania Cousland--She would’ve tried to use her connection to the king to make him see reason, make him see that the war was suicide. 

DA2        Vikara Hawke--She would’ve tried to sway Anders away from the terrorist side of things more, had she not been too blinded by love to see what he was doing.          Belladonna Hawke--Would’ve rather taken Bethany’s place with the ogre because she can’t live with the guilt.           Titania Hawke--Corypheus. If she’d have just paid fucking attention, she might’ve noticed how weird Larius was acting, she might’ve been able to do something before the literal sky opened up. 

Inquisition          Gemma Cadash--She straight up wishes she was never at the fucking Conclave. If she’d have just stayed in the Carta, doing what she’s good at, this all would’ve been someone else’s problem. She has a hard time dealing with all the pressure and the stress and constantly fears she’s doing the wrong thing. The only thing that gets her through it is Bull.           Vikara Lavellan--Loving Solas. She wishes she’d seen the signs more clearly, seen where they were going with it. But, loving Solas lead her to Cullen, so in the end? She guesses it was worth it.            Vanaya Adaar--She would’ve tried harder at Haven, to save more lives than she did. If she’d have just been a little faster... 

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

For my Inquisitors, usually something will be anti-canon, but my Hawkes are usually pretty satisfying to me, and the Warden has enough options I think it’s alright. But like...Vikara Lavellan has almost no faith to the Dalish despite being one. She got her vallaslin because she had to to stay in clan Lavellan. I also sometimes HC that she spent time in the Circle so when Vivienne gets all snotty about it not being so bad, she can be like “uhm, scuse you.” Same with Hawke and Anders, but Idk how it would work. Maybe she was there during his solitary confinement but broke out with her phylactery and that’s when her family moved to Lothering? Oh. Shit. Yeah. That works. Hey, new headcanon! 

24) Who did you leave in the Fade?

First, Hawke, because I hadn’t played DA2 yet, but then I saw how hurt Varric was and I died inside. So, Stroud usually. 

25) Favorite mount?

Cadash--the Avaar War Nug Lavellan--Tirashan Swiftwind Adaar--Hunter Shade Dracolisk