#he's such an easily hate-able character for your warden

[qunaricatnip]

duncan is such an interesting character and yet I don't think ive ever played a warden that actually liked him

[sugawarassoccerlover]

Remedial Meals

A/n: been very fed up with my body today, it refuses to cooperate with me & I was playing book 4 so I got the idea for this. Self indulgent shit. It’s probably OOC bc I don’t know the characters too well but I love them

Warnings: health issues, childhood neglect, starvation, reader gets a little sick

Pairings: (ALL PLATONIC!) Riddle & reader, Kalim & reader

Description: reader has health issues because of their trauma, and has tried their best to keep it from their new friends at NRC. Unfortunately, something that ails you every time you eat isn’t so easily hidden

Riddle

Admittedly, he had been pretty preoccupied with house warden matters so it took him a bit to notice that your behavior was off. But… every tea party, every meal, the way you scurried off each time made him worry. He thought it was nothing at first, as he didn’t notice it every time

But things added up. He began to realize this wasn’t just an occasional thing. Now, when you, Riddle, and the third years were sharing a meal together, you began to feel the consequences. Ah shit, you were going to be sick. You didn’t want them to notice, didn’t want them to worry, so you sat up and excused yourself.

Riddle, Trey, and Cater exchanged a look before nodding at you.

You went to the bathroom, but the pain got so strong you had to sit on the floor. It was throbbing and you couldn’t make it stop. You tried shifting the way you were sitting multiple times, it didn’t work. You clutched your stomach, leaning against the cupboards below the sink, and sighed. This sucked.

“Yuu?” Riddle knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

Shit. How long had you been in there? Had you been too obvious?

“Yuu?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You… do this a lot.”

“What do you mean?” You tried to feign ignorance.

“Run off after eating, I mean,” Riddle replies. “Are you….?”

You hadn’t normally ever heard Riddle be like this before, at a loss for what to do. You must have had him pretty concerned.

You sighed. Might as well tell him. You figured you wouldn’t be able to keep this hidden forever. It wouldn’t have been long before you ended up burdening your friends

Grimacing at the way it made your stomach hurt, you forced yourself to stand up and go to the door, unlocking it. You hated the way you couldn’t move without upsetting your body, but you had to

When you opened the door, you were met with Riddle’s concerned face. You smiled awkwardly at him before sitting down once again, on the floor of the hallway. Riddle looked at you in confusion.

You pat the floor next to you “sit down and I’ll tell you a story” you tried to be dramatic

“We can sit at the table, or in the lounge, I believe that would be more appropr-“

“As much as I’d love to, I’d rather not anger my body any more by moving,” you said with a playful tone.

“What?”

“My intestines are revolting against me and I fear if I move I will make them worse.”

“We should get you to the nurse’s office if it’s that bad,” Riddle spoke with concern.

“Nah, nah, it’s normal don’t worry.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry? Yuu, that is very worrisome. Such conditions should not be normal.”

“I guess I should say it’s normal for me. I’m used to it by now.”

Riddle furrowed his brows. “But being used to something doesn’t make it healthy or normal, Yuu. Pain in the intestines can be a sign of several underlying medical conditions.”

You laughed. “I should have expected you to take this more seriously than even me.”

“Of course I take it seriously. Health is an important matter that shouldn’t be ignored,” Riddle spoke firmly, but the concern was obvious in his tone.

“No its-“ You sigh. “I appreciate the concern, Riddle, it’s very sweet of you but I mean it when I say don’t worry. This is just how my body is. This just happens. It’s inconvenient at most, I promise.”

“Even so it’s.. alarming that that’s how your body is. Is there nothing I can do to help? Or make it better?”Riddle asked earnestly.

“Well, medicine helps it not be so bad,” you shrug.

“Why haven’t you asked for it before?” Riddle frowns. “If I knew about this sooner, I would’ve ensured you got the proper medicine whenever this happens.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother, I guess,” you look at the floor.

“It’s not a bother if it pertains to your wellbeing. This should be a basic necessity.”

From then on Riddle was extra aware of you anytime you had parties with snacks, or meals with the Heartslabyul students. He made sure you got medicine with your food during each meal, and even sent one of the third years to bring you some when you would eat at the cafeteria instead of with them.

Once they were made aware, Trey and Cater made sure to take note of what foods upset your body less. Mysteriously, you noticed those foods served more frequently when you ate with them. And even in the cafeteria, Ace and Deuce would insist they trade meals with you when yours included worse irritants.

“If I can help it, you’re not going to struggle any more than you need to. If it gets worse, let me know so I can arrange something.”

Kalim Al Asim

You could never turn down Kalim whenever he invited you to the Scarabia dorm to eat. He was always so generous to you, and it would have felt wrong to not accept. However… Kalim could be a bit much.

His enthusiasm was never for no reason, after all, he was right, the food was good. You had already eaten, definitely not enough to get your fill, but enough so you wouldn’t be too hungry, and it was a safe amount that probably wouldn’t make you sick.

You knew you over calculated the second Kalim sat you down to have you try a bit of every dish Jamil had prepared. Just looking at the amount of food already made your stomach churn. You frowned, unsure of what to do. It would be rude of you to turn him down, but you know your body would get even more upset if you ate anything more.

Unfortunately for you, your body decided you wouldn’t get the time to think about it, and the familiar ache came to you. You bit your lip, hoping Kalim wouldn’t notice.

“Hey, Yuu? Are you okay? Are you really that hungry, here you should eat this one first, it-“

You shook your head, putting a hand on your abdomen when the sickness worsened. “No, no I already ate, this is just..”

There was a look of confusion on Kalim’s face for a moment, only a moment, until it morphed into worry. “Yuu? What did you eat? What are you feeling? Are you lightheaded, or just sick to your stomach?”

His concern was almost sweet, but he seemed panicked. “Kalim-“

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, just- uh, JAMIL!”

“Yes, Kalim?” Jamil snapped to attention.

“I think Yuu was poisoned, we need to get them help right now,” Kalim spoke with urgency.

“Kalim-“

“Are you feeling worse?” You were convinced now that Kalim felt worse than you. You had gotten used to this by now but… yeah, it was probably the smart decision to hide your condition, if he was going to react like this

Jamil sighed, crouching in front of you. “Was there anything off about the food you ate last?”

You shook your head. “No. I’ve been meaning to tell Kalim, I wasn’t poisoned.”

“You can’t be sure, you never kn-“

You grab the white haired boy by the shoulders, making eye contact with him. “Kalim. I wasn’t poisoned. Though, it wouldn’t exactly be wrong to say that all food is basically poison to me…” you trail off, your tone getting bitter. “But that’s not the point. I know I wasn’t poisoned.”

Kalim frowned. “All food is basically poison to you? What do you mean? Are you allergic?”

You sigh. Woud you really have to explain the full thing to him? He seemed very worried for you, and probably wouldn’t stop worrying until you explained. “No, I’m not allergic. Ironically, I’m not allergic to anything. I just… because of stuff, my body… doesn’t handle food well.”

“Stuff?”

“…Alright. I uh. Was starved, for awhile.”

“STARVED?!”

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Yeah. Didn’t have much to eat for awhile. Almost… 2 years, I’d say.”

Kalim frowned. “That’s awful! I knew some people struggled financially but not even being able to afford food is horrible!”

You scoff. “It’s not that we couldn’t afford it. My dad just. Didn’t buy any, very often. For me at least. He got enough to eat, but I guess I’m not worth food or whatever.” You chuckled dryly, trying to force humor

“What? No! Everyone is worth food, especially you! That’s a terrible thing to think,” Kalim huffed passionately. “Man that makes me so sad.”

“Why does it make you sad? It’s my life. It’s not like it affects you,” you frown in confusion.

“I wish I had met you much sooner, than you wouldn’t have starved! I would have given you food every day so you would be fine!”

You smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you. But it is what it is. I’m just mildly inconvenienced by this body of mine now.”

“Is there something I can do now? Like is there anything you need? Something I can get you? There has to be a way I can help,” he insisted.

“Mmm, not really. I usually just wait around until I feel normal again.”

“That’s not a very good way to live! Getting sick from food and not doing anything about it,” Kalim seemed genuinely upset for you.

“Well, back home I took medicine that helped lessen it a little,” you shrugged.

Jamil interrupted, “I believe I know a medicine that may work. Is it nausea and pain?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but you don’t have to. I’m fine.”

“No way, you’re my friend, we’re going to help you!” Kalim immediately insisted.

You smile and roll your eyes sarcastically. “Of course. Well… thank you.”

“It’s no problem! Are you completely sure there’s nothing else we can do?”

“Well, I guess there’s some foods that irritate my body a little less than others. But I couldn’t ask you to go out of your way to get me them or anything,” you picked at your shirt.

“No, you can! If it helps make things better for you, of course I’d get them for you. Jamil would definitely be willing to cook them!”

As you listed off the foods that were less irritant, Kalim listened intently, but Jamil on the side made a mental note of each one you mentioned. You noticed that the next times you visited, all the food served to you included only the things you mentioned.

Kalim made sure to invite you over to the Scarabia dorm often, claiming “that cafeteria is making you sick so you should eat with us every day instead!” He would eat some of the things made for you as well, not out of greed, but rather because he didn’t want to eat what you “couldn’t”.

“You need to eat, your health is important so Jamil will make whatever is best for your health! No arguments!”

[wintermage]

just finished veilguard, here's ALL my thoughts chock full of spoilers

i went into this NOT feeling good about it. i had lingering i-hate-solas-itis from when they were marketing it as dreadwolf, and i had a lot of pessimism regarding how dragon age as a whole has been slowly but surely retconning the darker parts of the lore. i ended up liking it more than i expected. i feel its worth the money and i will probably replay at least partway through to experience another faction. but, it definitely hasn't displaced da2 as my favorite. in fact if we talk strictly about writing and not gameplay, it's probably my least favorite.

THINGS I LIKED:

it felt like a lot of care was put into MOST of the personal quests, as befits a game that beats you over the head with the idea that you have to resolve everyone's personal issues to have them at their best.

a lot of the banters were great

there were a lot of character moments i really loved

i liked how the faction you picked felt real, like more than just stat bonuses or a barely-relevant background story or whatever. i played as a grey warden and FELT like a grey warden, and i loved that.

i adore the decision to put the appearance of any armor or weapon on no matter what armor or weapon you're actually using. if you just play it as an overly complicated dress up game it's easily 10/10 lmao

the environments are really pretty in general, and i especially loved running around rooftops in treviso

the option to choose gender and pronouns separately in the character creator! as a nonbinary person who strongly prefers gendered pronouns, this was a great option to have.

although the character creator's face options weren't user friendly, I liked how detailed we were able to get in general. a large selection of tattoos and scars is always fun!

the new combat system feels more immersive and has a LOT of potential, they just didn't design encounters for it properly

lots of 'da2 with a bigger budget' vibes, especially in city environments

pretty good cake recipe

THINGS I DIDN'T LIKE:

the best thing i can say about the game's nonbinary representation is that they tried. unfortunately taash is the least likeable companion. i liked the attempt to casually add they/thems to the random npc crowd, but they fucked it up by drawing too much attention to it anyway.

SO MUCH WASTED POTENTIAL IN LUCANIS. I WANTED AN ANGSTY POSSESSED ASSASSIN AND THEY GAVE ME A GLORIFIED BARISTA WHO NEEDED ONE (1) THERAPY SESSION TO GET OVER BEING TORTURED AND IMPRISONED. his early appearances are SO GOOD and feel like they're hinting at a lot of interesting shit to come, and then nothing fucking happens. there are so many ways they could EASILY have improved his story line, it feels like he was the last one they worked on and had to rush it out the door.

romances in general don't feel like anything. i miss the feature from inquisition where you could kiss/spend time together anytime after reaching a certain point in the relationship. veilguard feels like there's absolutely no relationship progression other than the game telling you this dialogue option commits you to a romance. you walk up to your LI in the lighthouse and they just say something from their table of shit to say and you stare at each other in SILENCE.

re: combat encounters not being designed properly: if you're trying to be a ranged attacker, good fucking luck. half your enemies can teleport, and you'll often be facing hordes of them at a time. your warriors can only pull aggro for like 30 seconds max, and that's IF you brought a warrior with you (you don't even have one available at the beginning of the game). they've designed this shit so that the only viable strategy is firing off a light attack or two, dodging a lot, and making your companions heal you every time their cooldown ends, which is a REALLY tedious way to fight.

some of the above can be overcome by understanding all the different combat conditions, but the game COMPLETELY underexplains this. you have to find and read the in-game glossary and it's STILL missing a few terms it really should have.

THERE'S NO TACTICS SCREEN. WHY IS THERE NO TACTICS SCREEN. having to pause combat every single time i want my companions to do something useful REALLY takes away from the otherwise immersive nature of the new combat system.

they are, in fact, continuously retconning shit to be less dark and gritty. if you visit the hall of valor enough you'll see a qunari explaining to another npc that ACTUALLY only the ANTAAM treats their mages like animals and sews their mouths shut and regular qunari who still follow the qun are no worse than the chantry uwu. and the conversation between them is very "ooooh okay listening and learning" "thank you for listening to my lived experience" buzzwordy. also we GO TO FUCKING TEVINTER and the whole slavery thing is just glossed over because they're scared to try and deal with it in a mature way that won't upset people i guess?

everyone gets along too well. there's no tension between allies at all. no option to even HAVE a rivalry with one of them, really. inquisition let me clock solas in the face if i didn't get along with him for fuck's sake! maybe it's an unfortunate consequence of giving every single companion a unique ability that's needed to access certain areas--nobody's allowed to leave the party or it'll break the game, therefore you're not allowed to piss them off. And, disapproval from your choices is so rare. I feel like there were maybe three occasions where someone disapproved, and it didn't matter at all because they gained approval every time I brought them on a quest with me. the only consequence was that it slowed down their leveling, and even then just BARELY.

the varric twist was cheap. and they could have made it SO much better with ONE simple fix: your companions notice you're talking to fucking nobody and worry about it.

overall, the entire game was written like a fix-it fic i'd read AFTER the game rather than like an actual dragon age game. some parts of that were nice (wouldn't you love to see your favorite fanfic scenes fully rendered and animated? a few scenes in the game felt just like that) but overall didn't resonate with me. at the end I'm just left wondering, who is this for? dragon age has always had a lot of really dark themes, and this just felt...PG.

fuck all the people who are whining about DEI or whatever tho, lol

[messenger-of-stupidity]

hiii ummm as someone who hasn’t listened to any of vega’s stuff (and is a little scared to) i just wanted to ask what you like about him. ok thanks bye :3

Hi!!

ALSO OH MY GOD!!! I WILL GLADLY TELL YOU!

(also tagging @clover-46 so she can be like "oh yeah this all makes sense. im a vega simp now.)

Don't be scared to listen to his playlist if you don't mind the gaslighting and such. He's not mean to Warden, but is actually kind of sweet to them. But if you dont like second guessing if youre being manipulated or not, then yeah... don't listen to his playlist. He's very sneaky.

-- TO MY LIST NOW --

I typically just go for villain/anti-heroes. Red flags are, unfortunately, what I find attractive. (in fiction and reality :') ) NOT ALL THE TIME THOUGH I SWEAR I HAVE COMMON SENSE

His annunciation. The way he speaks just scratches a very nice part of my brain. And if someone has a nice voice, it tends to capture my heart. It's more than just vocal fry, deepness, ect. It's the way he speaks.

He's multifaceted. At first we think he's evil because we see him from Freelancer's perspective. But when Carpe Deus comes around, it shows him in a different reality. He didn't just do what he did to Ivan because he wanted some yummy snacks. There was a genuine reason behind it.

I love the way he interacts with people. It's kind of patronizing but so subtle that you notice it, but you dont notice the extent of it.

He's poetic. He has such an extensive vocabulary, and he doesn't swear often. There's something to say about someone who is able to absolutely verbally obliterate someone, all without really swearing.

He's a sadism demon. (iykyk)

Vega doesn't actually touch Warden all that much. (from my understanding he just touches them when they need help) And irl I literally hate it when people touch me. So having a character that canonically doesn't have a lot of clear show of touching the listener took me out of the way I simp over fictional character and made it more how I simp over irl people. There's two sides.

His pet name for Warden (besides warden). Being called "Darling" makes me all flustered. Sam's is a bit different because he leaves off the "g", which leads back to the annunciation. There are a few words that sound better when you leave off letters, but for me Darling isn't one of them. (That doesn't mean I don't enjoy Sam's "Darlin", but just not as much as I enjoy Vega's "Darling")

I mentioned this before in a separate post, but Imp!Vega is very soft with Pet (that pet name omg im melting). I'm of the opinion that every canon character has the same qualities as their Imp! counterparts, so Canon Vega has the same possibilities to be soft with Warden. Soft Vega hits different.

Vega has a demon listener. None of the other's have that, and Erik's Demons and Daemons system is so fascinating to me, that I jump on any chance to be a part of that. Also I love designing demons, so having a reason to make a demon OC that I can show off to people and they wont just be like "okay?" is very nice. It doesn't really have anything to do with Vega, but it's one of the reasons I like him.

His one liners. He thinks of them on the spot (yes ik its from a script, but from an immersion level) and that kind fo wit is hella attractive.

How sneaky he is. That takes a level of thought and intelligence to hide it. And I fall very easily if someone is smart. Especially if they don't say it outright, but these little things they do express it.

Going back to my attraction to red flags, the power imbalance between Warden and him. And I'm talking legitimately about magic power. He said he's much older than Warden and therefore is more powerful. Feeling small and insignificant in that kind of way lessens my anxiety so much.

He offers excuses. Not for his behavior (well he does that too, but that's not what I'm talking about.) but rather excuses to his love to safeguard them. He did that with Pet in case he lost against the imperium. He does it with Warden in case they get caught going with Vega. He doesn't want their lives to be messed up. it's a small way to show he cares, but grand displays overwhelm me.

He's very fun to write. I'll write for nearly every character if I love the world/fandom. But he's so complicated to write and fun. I get to put this psych degree I'm working towards (we'll see if I change my major this year or next year. Idek) into my writing and it's fun. It helps renew my passion for psychology since it's getting burned out for the past several months. (I've been into it since I was in middle school) I have so many pages in my docs and notebooks where it's just a full analysis on him. (Going back to he's an interesting character.

Also I'm just a total degenerate.

[arrowpunk]

Gimme 4-9 on those dragon age asks!

Hi sorry I took so long with these whoops, I've had a tab open on my computer since the day you sent this with it like half answered and just didn't get back to it until today! Oops!

4. What was your first Warden (gender/class/race/personality)?

Hyacinth Tabris! Male/Rogue/City Elf, outwardly he presents himself as a very diplomatic and reasonable guy, and does genuinely try to figure out what is going to have the best outcome for everyone when making decisions. Inwardly though he’s just like riding the high of not being dead when he should have died like five times over at this point and is full of shitty jokes that he does not actually say out loud.

5. What was your first Hawke like (gender/class/temperament)?

Atlas Hawke! Male/Mage/Purple This deeply sad man uses a mask of humor to pretend he isn’t constantly falling apart at the seams! I love Hawke, DA2 is definitely my favorite DA game so far, I love the inevitable doomed tragedy of the Hawke family and also just like Kirkwall as a whole and just. Yeah. Favorite DA game, easily. 

6. First Inquisitor (gender/class/race/personality)?

Qwyllian Adaar! Female/Warrior/Qunari she’s pretty pragmatic and just doing her best to make the decisions that will cause the least damage and work out best for everyone in the long run. Qwyllian isn’t interested in returning things to the status quo and putting everything back the way it was beforehand, rather she’s doing her best to use her power and influence as inquisitor to make things better for the common people of Thedas as much as she can. (In my personal internal canon she’s got my other inquisitor, Thyrias Lavellan, with her, and he’s fairly knowledgeable when it comes to Orlesian politics and certain things that aren’t mentioned in the game but are uhhh. Incredibly Relevant especially when it comes to Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (Fuck Celene, all my homies hate Celene)) 

7. Favorite DA:O backstory?

Tbh so far the only one I’ve played thru is Tabris so I am not qualified to pick a favorite yet.

8. Preferred class overall?

Rogue! I love being a sneaky little guy that can pick locks

9. Do you tend to play male or female characters most?

Definitely guys whoops- My first Inquisitor was a woman though and as soon as I started moving her around things felt so wrong because the walk/run animation was very like? Dainty? And the body language felt all wrong for how I had envisioned the character- I still finished the playthrough with her, but yeah when you make a character to be a butch lesbian with a massive sword and then the walk cycle animation looks like it was meant for a dainty fairy of a woman that goes prancing and traipsing through flower meadows it just feels… wrong. And just yeah the way the like body language animations are done for female characters in the dragon age games do not tend to jive well with the types of characters I enjoy making. Very excited to be able to make a nonbinary character in Veilguard tho. 

[iggydabirdkid]

WIP Whenever!

I was tagged by @goldfish-fhr! So thank you! I love to show my stuff!!

I'm going to tag @calnexin as I saw in one of your post tags that no one tagged you for a WIP Wednesday!

It's been a little slow going as I've been getting ready to go away this weekend (currently writing this while not even all my stuff is in the car), but I gotta answer this before I go otherwise I won't be able to!!

I've been working on this current set of drawings of one of my fav Tiefling characters, Khalis Niakarhi. I've drawn her many many times and have changed her design once again as i could never get her horns right.

Below drawings were spurned on by a post I saw about a DnD adventuring party, but it's all made up of drunk girls that meet in a club bathroom, cause girls always got each others backs XD

(Khalis is 36-38ish, talking to someone in their early-midfates 20's)

I've also written a big more of my Dragon Age Fic

“We looked for you y’know? For a time. Before we couldn’t afford to keep looking for someone who was lost to the world.” When he turns to look at you you see the scared former Warden and not the King he is now and when he speaks his voice shakes, “Where were you?” “I was adrift,” you tell him, “Travelling with the Dalish, learning magic to help with the taint and I… I lost time,” you tell him as you clasp your hands together, “I lost time and I lost myself and it was worth it. It had to be. But I don’t-“ your breath hiccups in your throat and your eyes are burning, “But I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for slipping away so easily. For losing 7 years of my life and leaving those with no idea of what had happened to me and I’m so sorry Alistair,” you tell him as you wipe a gloved hands across a cheek, “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize it had been so long and I promised I would write and I never-“ Your rambling is stopped as you are embraced by a pair of sturdy arms covered in fabric finer than you will ever own. You curl yourself up into Alistair’s chest and you feel so small. You feel almost like a child again crying that the world isn’t fair but this time it is your life that had been stolen from you instead of your mother, “I-I-I’m s-sorry,” you sob as you clutch at his buttoned up shirt and all he does is hold you closer and rest his chin atop your head.

And my Selkie AU fic (literally just a continuation of the last bit I posted lol)

To bite and sink your teeth into flesh and as a sharp tipped tooth hovers over her pulse you catch yourself, and pull away. “That was…” Julia’s voice is light and breathy and her skin is warm beneath your hands. “Something,” you finish her sentence with a tilt of your head and a smile. She laughs and you’ll never tire of hearing such a sound. When she detangles her hands from your hair and steps back you hate how you miss her heat already. “As much as I would like to continue,” she begins and you see her flash you a grin through the dark, “It’s late, and now I have to dry my clothes in time for the morning.” “I wouldn’t have thought you would have minded being wet?” you raise and eyebrow and this time she laughs so hard that she almost dips beneath the water when she doubles over. You find yourself laughing along with her until the chuckles taper off into silence and you find yourself staring at her with a lightness in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. “Are you coming back ashore?” she asks as the silence stretches out and she points a thumb back over her shoulder as if you had forgotten where land was. The corners of your lips quirk. “Not quite yet,” you tell her, “I have missed swimming beneath the waves and now that I have nothing to fear I will do so until I tire.” There’s a worry on her face now and you’re not sure what it was that you said to bring such a sadness upon her so quickly. “You will come back though right?” she asks and you hear the tremble in her voice as you recall the fate of her father. Your heart aches in your chest and you close the short distance between you both as you grab her face in your hands and lean in to place a kiss upon her forehead. “The fates could not keep us apart.”

[starwrittenfates]

❝ It doesn't matter that they won't remember me. What matters is I helped. ❞

↳ 𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝚂��𝙸𝙿𝚂 — To be discussed

↳ 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 — Any DA muses and OCs

↳ NOTE: By default, my portrayal of Cole on here follows his route of sticking as a Spirit of Compassion instead of following the human route. However, I can write him as following the human one if that's what you want or if your world state mentions it.

THREADS || NAVIGATION || STUDY ||

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Cole

NAME MEANING: (He took his name from the dead Apostate named Cole

NICKNAMES/TITLES: Ghost of the Spire, Spirit of Compassion, Kid (by Varric and Iron Bull)

AGE + DOB: 20s / Unknown

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male - He/Him

ORIENTATION: Pansexual Panromantic

SPECIES / CLASS / SPECIALIZATION: Spirit of Compassion / Rogue / Assassin

OCCUPATION: Spirit of Compassion, Member of the Inquisition, Helping People

APPEARANCE.

FACECLAIM: TBA

HAIR COLOR: Blonde

EYE COLOR: Blue

SCARS:

OTHER REMARKABLE FEATURES: TBA

BACKGROUND.

BIRTHPLACE: The Fade?

CURRENT HOME: Verse Dependent

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Spirit of Compassion

LANGUAGES: Common (he's a mind reader too)

PARENTS: N/A

SIBLINGS: N/A

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Dependent

CHILDREN: N/A

OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: N/A

PSYCHOLOGY/MIND.

MYERS-BRIGGS: INFP - The Mediator

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type 2 - The Helper

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

CHARACTER TRAITS: Empathetic, Sympathetic, Caring, Venegeful, Guilty, Honest,

LIKES: Helping Others, Animals

DISLIKES: Grey Wardens, Imprisonment

FEARS & PHOBIAS: Despair & losing his purpose by turning into a demon because of it

WISHES & DREAMS: To help others

CHARACTER TROPES: All Loving-Hero, Angst, Anti-Hero, Ass Shove, The Atoner, Badass Boast, Become a Real Boy, Been There Shaped History, Beware the Nice Ones, Big Brother Instinct, Bizarre Alien Senses, But Now I Must Go, Cannot Tell a Joke, Chaste Hero, Character Development, Child of Two Worlds, Cloudcuckoolander, The Cuckoolander Was Right, Comically Missing the Point, Creepy Blue Eyes, Creepy Good, Creepy Shadowed Undereyes, Dead Person Impersonation, Despair Event Horizon, Determinator, Devious Daggers, Dirty Mind Reading, Discard and Draw, Dual Wielding, Easily Forgiven, The Empath, Even the Loving Hero Has Hated Ones, Expy, Fate Worse Than Death, Foreshadowing, Foil, Freak Out, Ghost Amnesia, Guardian Angel, Hair of Gold Heart of Gold, Heart is an Awesome Power, I Was Never Here, Innocently Insensitive, 

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

TELEPATHY --- (as a Spirit of Compassion, able to read thoughts and emotions of those who need help. Can also make them forget him.)

MISC.

Cole is driven by, and feels, other peoples' Angst and is thus compelled to act to end it. However, he says that feeling it doesn't have a demoralizing effect on him at all; he uses it to help people, and that's it. 

His mind-reading ability is specifically tuned to whether someone is suffering emotionally, and/or whether he can do anything to remedy it. 

Cole can 'hear' and feel magic in ways that surprise the party mages. He approves if the Inquisitor becomes a Rift Mage, as they and Solas remind him of the Fade. He's less fond of Necromancy, as it involves manipulating wisps that might become spirits. He also describes magical whispers as being so loud he can see them, to the Inquisitor's confusion.

Cole's abilities of telepathy and making people forget him are largely harmless, and he even uses them to help people. However, those same abilities can be used in battle to make him a scarily effective assassin.

PERSONALITY IN DEPTH.

Cole approves of those who go out of their way to help the helpless or the hurt. He approves of killing or punishing those who hurt people. Allow him to help but do not condone his past of killing mages nor asserting to stop him if he kills innocents as that will net disapproval. Be wary of imprisoning people in your judgments as that also nets disapproval.

A few side quests in the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains where you help people in dire circumstances gains him moderate approval whether he is in the party or not. However, there are several instances that will yield Cole Greatly Approves:

Ally with Mages

Disband Templars

 Tell Cole to "give him a chance" when talking about the injured man in agony.

Exile the Grey Wardens

Convince all three leaders to have a public truce and work for the betterment of Orlais or reunite Briala with Celene.

Ally with Abelas and the Sentinels if Cole is in the party during the quest.

Expressing intent to rescue Solas rather than kill him.

BACKSTORY.

Cole is a unique entity, described as being caught somewhere between the realm of the Fade and the real world. He is a spirit, though there are some who believe that he may be some sort of demon pretending to be human. Cole himself is unsure of what exactly he is, and his unique set of abilities are unprecedented. Cole also has the uncanny ability to sense people who are in pain. He uses this ability to find people in the most painful moment of their lives and offers them comfort without hesitation, judgement, or expectation of thanks. He is searching for his place in the world; an ally to those who wish to help others.

Prior to his death, the mage formerly known as Cole was an apostate that befriended a spirit of compassion. When Cole was around twelve years old, his father attempted to kill him, as he had Cole's mother, for having "evil" in him. Cole hid with his younger sister Bunny, and accidentally killed her while trying to keep her quiet. Cole later killed his father by sinking a dagger into his heart. The dagger had originally belonged to his mother, the only piece of the wilder folk she'd kept.

The templars arrested Cole after the deaths of his family, and placed him in the dungeons of the White Spire, as is customary for young mages who have deliberately caused injury or death to others. The spirit would later recall that his human counterpart suffered beatings and "worse than beatings" from templars.

While an inquiry was supposed to follow his arrest, a new templar filled out the paperwork incorrectly, which resulted in Cole being placed in one of the most remote cells and forgotten. He eventually starved to death. As Knight-Commander Laroche deemed Cole "a possessed abomination waiting to happen" and the templar responsible sufficiently racked with guilt, he decided against punishing the templar and instead erased all records of Cole's existence. Unable to help the young man, the spirit instead became him, gaining his personality and memories upon his death and becoming corporeal in the process.

DRAGON AGE: ASUNDER

Cole is first encountered as the Ghost of the Spire. No one can see or remember him—none save Rhys, who goes on to form a friendship with the young man over the course of a year. Cole is also the murderer who has been stalking the corridors of the Spire, granting apprentices and newly-arrived mages a swift end rather than the eventual prospect of Tranquility or execution by the Templars. He does these so-called mercy killings because those who wish for death or are about to die are the only ones who can see and "remember" him.

Before Rhys, Wynne, Evangeline and Adrian leave for Adamant Fortress, Cole overhears Evangeline's conversation with Lord Seeker Lambert, who orders her to kill the mages should they discover that the Rite of Tranquility can be reversed. Worried, Cole follows the group in an attempt to warn Rhys and keep him safe. While in Adamant, the group, including Cole, are drawn into the Fade and face various nightmares—one of which is a memory of Cole's. It reveals that Cole came from a very poor family with a violently abusive father who thought his son cursed for having magic and tried to kill him. It is later revealed that Cole eventually killed his father. Some time after this, the Templars found him and brought him to the Spire.

The group escapes the Fade and manages to free Pharamond from the demonic possession. They leave Adamant with the knowledge that it's possible to reverse the Rite of Tranquility. On the way back to Val Royeaux, Pharamond has to be repeatedly reintroduced to Cole due to the latter's ability to make people forget him. Pharamond takes interest in Cole and speculates that he's a hedge mage, though Cole denies any ability to do magic. Pharamond explains the concept of "arcanist derangement", thinking that it might be applicable to Cole.

After Rhys is imprisoned for the apparent murder of Pharamond, everyone suspects Cole to be the culprit. However, when confronted by Wynne and Evangeline, Cole reveals that although Pharamond begged him for death, he refused. Cole then joins Leliana in storming the Spire's cells and freeing the imprisoned mages. Cole goes to locate Rhys and frees him. They attempt to escape the Spire through the sewers, but are discovered by Lambert. Lambert reveals he used Rhys' phylactery, which he had kept on his person to prevent it from being destroyed. Cole tries to murder Lambert, but the Lord Seeker is able to disrupt Cole's invisibility using the Litany of Adralla, revealing that Cole is in fact a spirit or demon with the ability to keep people from remembering him, or even noticing him at all. The Lord Seeker relentlessly assaults Cole, accusing him of using Rhys to commit murder. Cole slowly realizes that Lambert is correct about what he is, and with that knowledge, fades away.

After Lambert has dictated a letter, declaring the independence of the Templars and Seekers from Chantry oversight, he retires to his quarters for the evening but finds himself confronted by Cole with a dagger to his throat. The Lord Seeker is surprised, but Cole explains that there was in fact a human mage named Cole who had been brought to the dungeons of the Spire and was subsequently forgotten and left to starve by the Templars. His cries had attracted the spirit now posing as Cole, who had stayed with him to console him until the very end. Lambert demands to know what Cole wants, to which Cole replies to Lord Seeker Lambert that he wants him to "look into [his] eyes", the same thing he told all his victims before killing them.

DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION

When you first get to Skyhold he will be down in the bottom courtyard. It is also here where a small cut scene will take place, where Cole is sensing the pain of a dying soldier. The Inquisitor has the option to allow Cole to grant the man peace by death, or to tell Cole to let the man try and recover.

After this Cole moves to the upstairs in the tavern. Cole begins doing odd things around Skyhold, such as burning turnips or hoarding daggers.

After the Inquisition confront the Grey Wardens at the Adament Fortress, Cole begs Solas to bind him in order to prevent him from being controlled like the demons. Solas initially refuses and the Inquisitor can go to retrieve an amulet which can prevent spirits from being controlled, even through blood magic. Once the amulet is retrieved, Solas finds that something is blocking its magic from effecting Cole.

Cole senses the location of the thing preventing amulet from working. The Inquisitor, Cole, Solas, and Varric Tethras go to the location to find the Templar that left the original "Cole" to die in the cell at the White Spire. Cole goes into a rage and attacks the Templar, chasing him away. Solas suggests Cole embrace his essence as a spirit of compassion and forgive the Templar, while Varric suggests Cole to face his offender head on and come to terms with what happened.

If the Inquisitor chooses to have Cole forgive the Templar, Solas and Cole confront the Templar and Solas advises Cole to feel the Templar's regret for his actions. Cole accepts himself as a spirit of compassion and the amulet works so he can never be bond or controlled by others. He feels everyone's pain but he can approach them, unseen and whisper words to them to ease their pain.

If the Inquisitor sides with Varric, Varric and Cole confront the Templar and Varric gives Bianca to Cole to kill the Templar. Cole points the weapon at the Templar but chooses to spare the Templar. Solas says the amulet will never work on Cole and Varric insists it is because Cole is now more human and is no longer vulnerable to being controlled because of it. Cole can still feel people's pain, but he could now be seen and remembered by people and begins to feel things he had never felt prior.

Trespasser

Two years after Corypheus' defeat, the Inquisitor can meet Cole before meeting the Exalted Council after he subtly has an Orlesian noble relinquish his table so that a bird may feast on his left over bread crumbs. He then joins the Inquisitor as a companion as they uncover a Qunari plot in the midst of Exalted Council's negotiations with the Inquisition.

Cole is more human

If Cole was made more Human, it is revealed that he and Maryden Halewell have become a couple, and in the end, the two will travel together across Thedas, where Cole and Maryden work together to ease the pain of many people.

Cole is more of a spirit

If Cole was made more Spirit, he will subtly play matchmaker between Maryden Halewell and Krem (if the Chargers are alive) or Zither (if the Chargers are dead).

In the end, Cole will return to the Fade because he senses that will be where he will be most needed to ease pain as a Spirit of Compassion, but he promises his friends in the Inquisition will not forget him.

[jentrevellan]

I'm so happy to finally share my fic for @dasmutquisition! I had so much fun with this one, it's unreal. I hope you enjoyed @sumiIong

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins

Relationship: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)

Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Teagan Guerrin

Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Making Love, trapped together (sort of), strong woman, anxious Alistair, generic Cousland, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, newlyweds, Morning Sex, D in the V, Porn With Plot, Dorks in Love

Language: English

Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition

Summary: Alistair and the Warden spend the first night not only as husband and wife but as King and Queen.

Notes: Thank you @curiousthimble for being my beta!

Read on Ao3

Doin' the Fondue

The great hall in Denerim Castle was loud and filled to the rafters with people. Nobles, elves, dwarves and peasants alike were squeezed in, all clamouring to see the newly married couple. Up on the dais, overlooking the crowd that was slowly getting rowdier and rowdier with the ale and wine that continued to flow, Alistair - now King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden - slouched in his throne and took a gulp of wine.

He was terrified.

Oh, the ceremony had been a delight, and he had adored proclaiming his love in front of the Maker and the witnesses in the Chantry. But as soon as he had stepped into the hall for their wedding feast, his gut started churning. Because he knew what must come next after the merriment had ended.

He glanced at his wife beside him. His wife! Despite his anxiety, he couldn’t help but grin like a fool at the thought of his Grey Warden companion, Lady Cousland, now being his wife. It didn’t seem wholly real. Indeed, most of his life the past year hadn’t seemed real. So much had changed, and now he was married.

Alistair took another sip of wine from his goblet and his new wife glanced at him, a small frown on her brow. She already knows me so well, he thought. No one else would be able to tell that anything was amiss, but she had always seen straight through him and knew when even the smallest thing was bothering him. One of the many traits he loved about her. Although it did mean that it was impossible to keep any sort of secret from her. Even the good kind of secrets.

As he picked at his food, his new wife and Queen accepted many gracious gifts from guests. All curtsied or bowed and she was most eloquent in her response. Truly, she was more prepared for this life as a monarch than him. Her noble upbringing was a far cry from how he was raised. But wherever his trepidation lay about ruling, he knew that with this woman beside him as his Queen, that he could do anything.

She laughed heartily at a joke Teagan was telling her, and he watched as she wiped away a tear. Alistair glowered at his uncle and reached out for his wife’s hand. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face, her cheeks flushed and her lips rosy from the wine.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

He nodded his head to Teagan. “Just wondering what was so funny…?”

She blushed prettily, and a jealous hand gripped his gut. He would not easily forget his uncle’s flirtations when he had first met them in Redcliffe, and ever since, a fit of strange jealousy and need to claim her as he always came about when he was in the presence of both her and Tegan.

Waving a jewelled hand, she shook her head. “It was nothing. Rather crude, actually, so I told him off for lowering the tone of our conversation at our wedding feast,” she replied, taking a sip of wine. “Now what’s the matter with you?”

“Me?” he repeated. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me at all. Absolutely nought.”

“Alistair,” she said seriously, leaning in close. Her tone made him want to listen, but her golden gown with its tight bodice had pressed her breasts pleasantly together and were well within his eye line that he couldn’t help but glance down. A treacherous blaze of desire coursed through him, and with her puckered lips, her brow furrowed in concern, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and -

A chill went through him. He wanted her, oh yes, most desperately, but Tegan caught his eye and winked, and a shudder of repulsion went through him as he turned his head to see half of the court watching their interaction. He pulled away from his wife abruptly and reached for his goblet of wine, again and took a huge mouthful.

Ever the gracious lady, his wife smiled faintly and pretended that nothing had happened. But the look she quietly gave him as he peered at her over the rim of his goblet made his gut clench with guilt. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he felt rotten about being the cause.

The dinner continued and as the servants were generous with topping up his wine, Alistair kept emptying his goblet. His wife, on the other hand, declined and stuck to watery lemonade and with dread, he realised that she was not drinking the same as him because it was expected that she needed to stay sober to conceive.

It was like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and he struggled to breathe, and it was getting worse as the evening wore on. Soon he stopped eating and drinking and just watched everybody that approached the dais to offer their congratulations or present gifts to the newlyweds. One item that was given to the new Queen was a selection of herbs which, as the kindly elderly noble had explained “would help the womb quicken”. Alistair had almost retched at her words, and instead began a small coughing fit, which required his wife to smack him firmly on the back a few times harder than she would’ve done normally.

At one point, a small child approached, dressed in a simple cotton tunic, as white as a cloud. Her hair was braided down her back and entwined with flowers. She stood before the queen who rose from her throne and leant over the table to adjust a flower in the girl’s hair. Alistair watched as his wife’s face lit up with warmth as she listened and spoke to the child. He wanted to give that to her. But… but…

“Let us bed them!” Tegan suddenly announced, and there was a scramble as the court got to their feet hurriedly, to be one of the select few to follow them to their chambers. The women reached the queen and she shot Alistair one swift look of alarm before resigning herself to their insistent tugs as they all but pushed her out of the room. Alistair followed with a group of noblemen, including his uncle.

“I bet you’re looking forward to this, m'boy,” Tegan grinned, falling into step beside Alistair, as they made their way through the halls of the castle.

“I don't know what you mean,” he replied flatly, his face feeling warm not just from the wine.

Tegan clapped him on the back. “You are one lucky man, my boy,” he said with a sigh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so quiet in all the time I’ve known you. Your mind has been elsewhere this evening - and I’m not the only one to notice.”

Dread tugged at him as he climbed the stairs. “Yes, you’re right and I’m sorry, but-”

“Sorry!” Tegan repeated with a snort. “You’ve no need to be sorry. Most men are as quiet as a mouse in anticipation of their wedding night. And one can’t certainly blame you: your wife is simply lovely.”

“Yes, thank you, Tegan,” Alistair ground out, shrugging his shoulder lose of his grip. But rather than be offended, the man laughed and Alistair clenched his fists. Never before had he been so tempted to knock his uncle around the head.

They arrived at his chamber door and inside more nobles awaited eagerly. The king’s bed had been arranged neatly, but there was no expectation for him to sleep there tonight. Instead, he eyed the connecting door where he knew his wife would be waiting for him, surrounded by the noblewomen.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked, looking around the room, but the men just laughed, and chatted, some making obscene gestures. He grimaced, hating the sheer manliness in the room. His manservant came forward to help him undress from his finery and removed his crown. Once he had been disrobed save for his smalls, he threw on his white cotton nightshirt and ran his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow.

There was a faint knock at the connecting door, and one of the servants hurried forward and exchanged whispers with the servant on the other side. Alistair paced anxiously and took a very keen interest in a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. The men around him were talking about absolute filth, and he squeezed his eye tight shut, in the vain hope that his ears would squeeze shut too.

Finally, the connecting door swung open and the servant stood aside. Alistair was rooted to the spot, fear coursing through him. Are these people… going to watch ? He thought with horror.

He was quite content with where he was until Tegan elbowed him in the ribs. “Nervous?” he said with a wink.

“Yes. No! I mean, no !” he said hurriedly, his face burning.

“There’s nothing to be scared about. She’s going to be a wonderful wife to you in so many ways…”

“Shut up,” Alistair groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. Honestly, he was this close to hurling Tegan out the window.

But before he could entertain that thought further, the men in his room were pressing him through the door and - oh Maker no - were also following him. He entered the queen's bed-chamber to find a gaggle of ladies with rosy cheeks flutter their lashes and lick their lips seductively at the men. But Alistair was anything but aroused when he finally turned to the large, four-poster bed, to see his wife and queen.

She was a perfect painting of innocence and virginity in crisp white sheets with a matching white nightdress. Her hair had been unbound and combed neatly and she sat as still as a statue, her back and posture absolutely perfect for a queen. The covers were pulled up to her lap, and her hands rested delicately entwined: her sparkling wedding ring the only jewellery that remained.

He refused to meet her eyes as he slowly walked around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the covers down amidst the chatting of the court and when he finally sat beside her, a good arms-length away from her, the court finally - finally - turned to leave. Several clapped, the women exchanged knowing looks with the queen, who smiled politely in return, and the men, now incredibly drunk, ambled from the room, wishing Alastair luck and reminding him of how lucky he was.

Finally, blessedly, the last person left the room and closed the door with a gentle click .

☆☆☆☆☆

To the new queen’s dismay, the first thing her new husband did as soon as the door had shut, was leap out of the bed as if he had been scalded. She frowned as he strode towards the door, and for an awful moment, she thought he was going to leave. But no: he reached to a small side table and found a key and locked the big oak door to her chambers, followed by locking the conjoining door from the king’s bedroom.

Still not saying anything, Alistar strode around the room, pulling open curtains and wardrobes, trunks and cabinets.

“What in the world are you doing?” she finally asked, her patience running thin. The man had barely spoken to her since their vows in the Chantry in the morning, and now he was examining every nook and cranny of her chambers?

He paused by her bookshelf and flicked her a glance over his shoulder. “Checking,” he replied, before shifting a few books.

“Whatever for?”

He sighed in exasperation. “To make sure that we are alone! Andraste’s arse, I thought they were going to stay at one point and watch to make sure we… we… erm…” he coughed and busied himself by peering under a chaise lounge.

She got out of bed and dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the bed. Thankfully, there was no one there, but she had to admit that the same fear had crossed her mind. Even though she knew that wasn’t the common practice, sometimes nobility did take things a bit too literally…

“We’re safe,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips.”There’s no spy, no peephole, no nothing but us.”

Alistair finally stopped his fidgeting and turned to her from across the room. For the first time in a long time, they were utterly alone. Normally, they would’ve fallen into each other’s arms by now, but something was stopping her, and she could tell that something was also stopping him. They stood on opposite sides of her room, the bed imposing and glaring at them, whilst the distance between them felt as vast a chasm. And that was something neither of them had experienced before.

“Everything is different now, isn’t it?” she said quietly, looking down at her hands clasped before her.

Alistair also seemed to be studying his fingernails. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

She played with the hem of her pure white night-dress and frowned. Conversation with her now-husband had never been this stilted. So she switched tactic to one he would hopefully relax with: humour.

“You know, for a good ten minutes, I honestly thought they were all going to stay and watch,” she said with a wry smile. She knew they wouldn't - being brought up as a noble lady had earnt her some education in these things - but Alistair needed not to know that. For it worked:

“Maker! You did too?” he exclaimed, letting out a bark of laughter. “I didn’t think they would, but I began to doubt myself.”

She took a step towards him. “Hence your paranoia about spies?”

He nodded. “Yes, hence the… paranoia ,” he rolled his eyes at her choice of words, but there was a smirk on his lips, which made her heart soar.

The man she knew was peeking through, so she took another step closer. “It’s an archaic tradition anyway,” she said. “I know for a fact that they do not practice it in Orlais.”

Alistair snorted. “Perhaps the only redeeming factor of the Orlesians.”

“Hmm, that and the cheese,” she smiled and finally, finally , her new husband met her eyes.

They both burst into laughter and she saw his shoulders sag. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to,” she said earnestly.

His face reddened. “But I do! I do want to! With you, that is! I just… it’s just…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as he sought out the right words.

“The pressure of it all?” she supplied.

“Yes!” he gasped, relieved. “To know that we cannot come together unless it’s for a purpose. That purpose,” he mumbled, pointing to her stomach.

He was going inside himself again, so she took his hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Think of it this way… it’s for the good of the country that you fuck me senseless any time of day and night.”

Alistair spluttered at her bluntness but she just laughed as she slipped her hands from his and moved past him. There was a small table laden with food - to help keep up their energy for their excursions, no doubt - so she helped herself to a goblet of wine and poured one for her new husband. “You’re probably one of the only men in the world who can use that excuse,” she smiled, popping a grape in her mouth.

“You…” he grinned, walking over and taking the other goblet from her hand. “You are a minx.”

She pretended to be shocked. “You’ve only just realised? And here I thought you only married me because you knew I was.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled him to her, kissing the top of her head. “One of many, many many reasons,” he replied.

They stood content in silence, their thoughts elsewhere when she finally spoke again. “I meant what I said. We don’t have to do anything we’re expected to do tonight.”

He gulped but nodded. “I… I know. And I appreciate that, but please don’t think it’s because I don’t want... need you,” he said quietly, his grip on her tightening.

“It’s not like we’ve not done it before,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Even if this gown pretends to be evidence to the contrary.”

“Yes, and we have done it, many, many times…”

“And we will many more,” she confirmed, popping another grape in her mouth, the sweetness washing over her tongue. She turned to him: “but not tonight.”

“Thank the Maker I married you,” he murmured, downing the rest of his wine.

“But I do have a wicked idea…”

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“We should take all of this food and eat it… in bed.”

He laughed, so genuine and delightful that her gut warmed pleasantly. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, his other hand grabbing the cheese board and marched over to the bed. He threw her down, and she tried to not be too aroused by the action, but her pert nipples through her night-dress gave her away. Determined to make sure Alistair was as happy as could be, she reached forward and pulled him onto the bed and instead of kissing him, grabbed a handful of cheese and squashed it into his mouth.

The King of Ferelden snorted with laughter as he tried to eat the cheese, before doing the same back at his new queen. He pecked her on the nose and rose to collect more food and wine, and soon they were sitting leaning against the headboard, a delectable spread of food between them. And they gorged.

☆☆☆☆☆

The sun peered through the lattice windows of the queen’s chamber. The light was white and bright and brought Alistair blinking out of his deep slumber, momentarily confused at his location. He looked up at the canopy above him and duly noted the olive green drapes of the Queen’s bed. He’d never slept in here and was momentarily disoriented until he remembered the day before.

In his arms, still and sound asleep, was his wife. Her hair was splayed on the pillow and tickled his nose. He couldn’t see her face, but today it felt more real: this woman who had become his friend and companion, lover and hero of Ferelden, was now his wife… his queen . He gently propped himself onto his elbow, so as not to wake her, and gazed down at her face, noting the way the sunlight accentuated her high cheekbones. This wonderful, beautiful and exquisite woman is my wife , he thought with quiet awe. His chest flipped with uncontained joy and gone was the trepidation of the night before.

He studied her face as she slept, her nostrils flaring slightly as she sighed contently in her sleep. He lay back down and pulled her close to him, tightening his grip on her, and burying his face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicatingly sweet scent. The silk nightdress was so smooth and thin, and his hands couldn’t help but wander up and down, his fingers gently brushing the material over her skin, like water. Without realising it, he found himself rutting against her arse, which was tucked up cosily to his groin. He tried to still himself, she's still asleep ! But his wandering hands could not be stopped as one slowly crept up her torso and cupped a breast. The shift was so thin, that he felt her nipple harden with the barest of touches and that’s when he realised that her hips were moving too.

He pushed himself up to an elbow again, and her eyes, dark and hooded with desire stared back at him. Her lips parted with a hitched breath and he flicked her nipple with his thumb. Moving his hand downwards, he swallowed her breathy moan as his fingers teased the hem of her smalls, mouth crashing down on hers in simple, uncontained desire.

They had not so much as kissed since they had said their wedding vows in the Chantry, he realised. And as his tongue licked her upper lip, he swore to himself that he would never leave it so long to kiss her again. Her mouth opened with a sigh and their tongues danced as he continued to rut, and she squirmed against him as his hand finally slipped into her smalls in search of her bud.

He stifled a groan as he found her hand already there, gently touching herself. His fingers joined hers whilst they moved their hips and she guided him with her hand. He slipped a digit inside of her and she gasped, squirming against his erection, straining against his smalls, and he pictured feeling her growing wetness around his cock. With impatience, he slid her nightdress up so she was exposed and he pulled his cock out and rubbed it blissfully between her cheeks. Her soft skin was as smooth as silk as he rocked his hips, gaining pleasant friction with her arse.

“More…” she whispered, as her fingers joined his, pumping inside her. And with his control waning, he obliged eagerly.

Alistair rolled her onto her back and pulled her hands over her head as he pinned her down. Her legs fell open for him, and as much as he wanted - no needed - to be inside her, Alistair knew what his lady wife needed more was to be spoiled. If it were up to him, the king would love to stay buried between his wife’s legs for the rest of his days, as her taste was so sweet. He trailed kisses down her neck, and her hips lifted up to meet his, and his resolve almost broke as her core was teased against his cock. But being a Warden had one excellent perk: incomparable stamina.

He continued down, kissing her heaving breasts as they rose and fell erratically with her breathing. Playing with one in his hand, he took her other nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly, her perfect bud hard and round in his mouth. With his hand, he squeezed her other one tight, and had her gasping: but he was nowhere near done. He let go of her breast in his mouth with a pop and glanced up at her to see her mouth open and delicious, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. He grinned and kissed her stomach, then pulled back and positioned himself on his elbows, taking in the sight of her splayed out on the bed, rosy cheeks and breathy moans all for him. He pressed his lips to her knee, then with each kiss, his stubble tickled the inside of her thigh as he moved up her legs, finally reaching that gloriously warm and wet apex in between that was just begging for him to taste.

Desire surged through him and without wasting any more time, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and licked her dripping wet folds. She cried out in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over her, and her fingers grabbed his head, nails digging into his scalp as he worked his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelt, and her hips rose up to meet his mouth, jittering as she climbed higher to her peak. He wanted to spoil her because she deserved it and more. So he reached up with one hand and squeezed a breast and flicked a nipple again, loving the way her hips bucked in response. Her nails dug deeper into his scalp and raked his chestnut hair as his other hand kneaded her arse, lifting her up so he had the best angle to eat her out.

He teased and tortured her with his mouth, and finally sucked on her clit.

“Ah...ah...Alist-ah!” she cried out, her thighs clamping around his head as she came. He tasted her orgasm on his tongue and without missing a beat, rose and positioned himself at her entrance. Her eyes flicked open to look at him as she felt him move, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her exquisite mouth. That was all he needed.

So tormentingly slowly, Alistair finally entered her, the warmth and wetness so indescribably perfect that he couldn’t help but let out a moan. He fit her perfectly and when sheathed completely, he paused and stared into her eyes. Her breathing was still fast from her orgasm and he captured her mouth with his, letting her taste herself. Then he rolled his hips and started to slowly make love to her, not once tearing his gaze from her face. He noticed every single expression that flickered before him as he thrust and teased: a hand on her hip and another once more on her breasts.

She wrapped her legs around him and he plunged unbelievably deeper inside of her, making them gasp and moan in unison as they moved together in a rhythm as old as time. As they moved, the pleasure and pressure mounted, but Alistair had much more control than a boy still wet behind the ears - he wanted to give her so much more before he -

“Ah!” he gasped, as she took him by surprise. She had crossed her ankles behind his back and with her strong legs, twisted so that he was forced to roll and let her sit on top of him. Incredibly, they did not lose touch, and the angle was different but just as pleasurable. She smirked down at him as she pressed her hands to his chest and began to slowly roll her hips, her breasts rising and falling beautifully as she took him. Alistair was entranced as he watched his love move quicker with a growing need and he held her hips tightly to control her pace. But she didn’t need any assistance, as she moved faster and faster, his thrusts coming up to meet hers, flesh slapping flesh. Her moans crescendoed, and the erotic sight before him of his wife move above him with a wonton need to claim her pleasure...well he could feel his control slipping. He wanted to spill himself inside of her, and see his seed drip down her legs…

“Fuck!” she cried, reaching her second orgasm, as Alistair dug his fingers into her thighs to stop himself from joining her peak of pleasure. She fell back and Alistair seized his moment to regain control and topped her again.

Fully sheathed once more, he deliberately moved slowly, as he knew that if he picked up the pace then he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. But she caught his eye and licked her lips.

“Please, Alistair,” she panted, her hands digging into his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Mmmm?” he replied, biting her earlobe and slipping out of her, making her whimper.

“What do you want?” he teased, stroking himself as she looked up at him with uncloaked desire.

“It’s more than what I want ...it’s what I need ,” she whispered, sitting up to meet her lips with his, her hand trailing down his chest and abdomen, making his muscles tense in anticipation.

They kissed delicately, fervently, noses touching, breath mingling. “And what do you need?”

She pulled away and lay back down on the bed, her legs falling open. She traced one finger down the length of her, and his eyes followed.

“Take me, my king,” she begged, touching herself in front of him.

Almost roughly, because he couldn't bear to not be in her again, he flipped her over, brought her to her knees and lined himself up to her entrance. He kissed her salty back, sleek with sweat and breathed in her ear. “As my queen commands.”

He thrusted inside, and she took all of him. She threw her head back and he grabbed her neck, pulling her up to him for a searing kiss, their tongues dancing as he thrusted fiercely, the globe of her ass bouncing against his abdomen. She moaned in his mouth as she touched herself; legs shaking as he pounded into her over and over; sweat mingling, with moans loud and needy, filling the chamber. He pumped with such animalistic need and she cried in pleasure and she gripped the bedsheets for support as he took her, unrelenting in his passion.

With a shaking arm, he reached around and touched her pearl and she cried out, her orgasm sudden and huge.

“Fill me!” she pleaded as she continued to come.

He snapped and finally, wonderfully, he reached his peak too and exploded inside of her, his vision blurred and black at the edges, as he emptied his seed inside of her - for the first time. And Maker, did it feel incredible to finish like this; in a union of bodies so perfect and natural.

Alistair, as breathless as if he had just swam the length of the Waking Sea, collapsed on top of her, laughing with joy.

“I...I love...you,” he panted, their legs entwined and he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began.

They stayed like that for some time, and Alistair was tempted to fall asleep just like this, but she wiggled underneath him.

“Mmmm, as much as I love you inside of me,” she murmured;” you are crushing me somewhat.”

He reluctantly slipped out of her, trailing kisses all down her back and arse, making her hairs stand on end and her toes curl. He gathered her into his arms, the sheets around them a total mess, but he was loath to care as she lightly ran her fingers over him. His limbs felt like jelly, all loose and relaxed.

“Hey, Alistair?”

“Hmm?” he replied, barely opening his eyes.

“There’s some cheese leftover from last night.”

He sat up suddenly and looked over to where she pointed.

“Cheese for breakfast?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Cheese for breakfast,” she confirmed.

fin

[relaxxattack]

contemplating if sending this ask is worth the c!sam discourse bc tbh I've been exhausted by it these past days but! you talked about sam and regret and - I feel like sam is in this position where he's constantly on the edge, because his problem is that he cares too much - he does regret a fuck ton, but he doesn't see any other way to do anything, and thus puts on this warden persona, a steel barrier between himself and his emotions, to be, he's the definition of "between a rock and a hard place", damned if you do, damned if you don't

I think a very good example is quackity's stream, where it's so clear how easily influenced he is, and how when he latches onto an idea, he gets tunnel vision. with tommy - he mourns and it hit him like a truck, but in his mind what could he do? as he said - dream could have used tommy as a hostage etc, and safety of the server, thus inescapability of the prison, is a priority. with ghostbur also - if he extended the bridge, in his mind, dream would most likely use ghotbur as a hostage and escape (dream hismelf called ghostbur a hostage, so), plus, with how much tommy's death in that cell fucked him up, I don't think he calculated the fact that tommy is armed, his brain just couldn't out tommy in that cell again, and that's why he put down the lava

he is very paranoid about the prison, fueled by isolation and time spent with dream, enabled and at the same time manipulated by quackity, fresh from the egg banquet which was a final testament of the fact that he can't trust any of his closest friends no matter how much he tries to help them and no matter how much they seem like they're trustworthy (the eggpire, hannah etc), drowning in guilt over tommy's death (remember the quackity stream and the ranboo stream in particular), with no support system, nothing there to at least suggest another direction, plus he has a natural tendency to bear everything onto himself - responsibility, faults, everything - regardless of what anyone says or does, and a tendency of getting tunnel vision when he latches onto an idea (for example that tommy was there to release dream, not kill him)

and let me say this - this isn't a justification of sam's actions, this isn't to say that what he did or said was good actually, nor is it to say that he wasn't at fault, because it isn't, what he said to tommy was horrible and uncalled for and it was still sam's actions, what he did to ponk, and what he allows quackity to do is horrible and wrong, and there's no debate about that, I'm not here to debate that

however I'm here to say that i think, to say that he's not unwavering in his actions, and to say that he's fine with them? to me it's wrong. when he says 'i will murder you' and 'im doing this out of my free will' and 'it was perfect when it was just me and him'? the tone he uses is a tired one, it's defeated, it's the voice of a man that knows what he does is wrong and hates it but doesn't see any other way

as cc!sam said - c!sam has to choose between what he thinks is good for the server, and what he personally thinks is right - these are not the same things to sam. (also cc!sam, when talking about whether or not c!sam goes to see dream/tortures him, said that c!sam would rather not see or be anywhere dream at all (and also that he doesn't torture him himself), which are his personal feelings, as opposed to what he's doing "for the good of the server" aka "it was perfect when it was just him and me")

so - how does regret factor into c!sam? I feel like he does not regret his actions in a way because he saw those as the only option - However, I do think that he regrets the very fact that it was the only option - he doesn't regret the actions itself but the fact that he, in his eyes, had to do them

please keep in mind that 4th paragraph, not trying to defend his actions or words here, nor trying to say that people have no right to be mad, I'm just saying that I think people greately overestimate sam's stability and "confidence" he has in what he does, I feel like people often mistake "he did his best in the situation he was in given his capabilities and mental state" with "he did good", and that's why when people try to explain sam's character they get angry. because no! he did bad! he did terrible actually! but the key here is why he did so badly, and why, because of his mental state, he didn't have the capability to do better

anyway sorry for the essay in your asks, I hope this is at least somewhat entertaining to read

i was absolutely terrified by the length of this when i saw it in my inbox tbh 😭 but the tone it was written in was pretty gently and your points were good and insightful so i was able to read it yes :]

thank you for saying this i think it was well-said

[thedinanshiral]

My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy.  I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return. 

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely.  My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total  injustice. 

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that  glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

[qunaricatnip]

I’m sure it’s been said before but I still think it’s very interesting that Duncan waits to recruit Alistair until after Maric dies like what’s that about

[ruby-whistler]

Ok, I’m glad you could clear that up, just to specify I was talking about these very specific parts with what I was talking about:

. “Seeing this fandom dehumanize the character on such a large scale makes me sick and extremely worried for them, so shut up.”

You did in fact claim you were extremely worried for them. This could easily be taken as implying that you think it says something about their morals/actions/future actions based on how they talk about a very much fictional character in a post. Not cool. That was my only point there. If that’s not what you meant then good, no trouble here, but I’m just telling you because it can be interpreted that way, especially since it’s pretty common for people to say things like that in this fandom, sadly.

I’m glad you clarified the colonization thing, what you said makes sense. I figured you could of meant something like that, so that’s why I gave you the benefit of the doubt. People can totally relate because of their circumstances for any reason, it’s saying it’s canonically accurate when it is very much not which is kind of insensitive.

Your point about Sam was,,, weird? Your saying I can’t sympathize with someone who abused someone,,,, when dream is also some who abused some one. No where in that did I say it’s ok to abuse dream because of that, I’m just stating facts that yes, dreams actions hurt sam. Sam was very fond of tommy and no doubt hm having to deal with the guy who abused him, talked about abusing him, and then killed him would be traumatic for him. You can hurt someone while still being hurt by them. It’s not always a one way street. Again, that doesn’t at all excuse anything sams done, he’s done a lot of awful things, but it is a fact of his character hard boiled into his arc. It’s not exactly hidden away. Just like people are allowed to analyze why dream does the things he does, people are allowed to analyze why sams doing what he does. Doesn’t excuse it, but explains it. Here are some quotes from in game chat on foolishes stream that talk about this. Dream is not just “telling him what he did” he’s taunting him. This has been confirmed many times.

“He kills the other inmates. And laughs. And tells me to come in the cell so he can kill me too.”

“He tells me that he knows everything. That he is waiting.for the right day.”

He talks about at other times even earlier in the arc why he is so obsessedwith the prison. He feels like it is his duty to protect the people who he failed to protect before.

And I found the dream quote! He very much says forever. No questioning that.

“Tubbo, I’m gonna lock Tommy away forever, I mean I need him alive, but that doesn’t mean he has to be free, right?” There’s no reading between the lines that can be done there. He planned for tommy to have his current fate.

I never said you were hyper sensitive? I just said I personally deal with feeling like that (I often project into characters, and seeing people apologize for abuse makes me upset) so it was genuine advice to anyone who feels the same. If something is causing you genuine distress it’s good to take a break. No ones forcing you to, but it can help some people. No where did I imply that anyone was hypersensitive for having to do that? People who say stuff like that about characters should definitely stop, but sadly not everyone will, so it can be good to try and filter things/take a break so you don’t have to see it. Because it can take a toll on your mental health. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking a break, it doesn’t make you hypersensitive. And even if you are, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s valid.

The only reason I asked for you to wait if Anything I said upset you is because I really don’t want to get yelled at, and like I said, I don’t know you. I’ve seen people get really angry at critical asks before and it can help to take a step back before you respond. It was more pertaining to my sensitivity then any one else’s because being yelled at makes me upset so I really don’t want to be yelled at lol. It’s happened before in asks so I was just asking that if you feel like yelling at me please kindly don’t, or at least wait till your not angry, cause it will make me upset. Just a precaution. Sorry if it came off as condescending, I didn’t mean it that way (your response was fine btw)

ah, i think i see the problem - i need to stop with the confusing sentences, this is the second time in that single post someone’s misunderstood what i wrote. i hope you excuse me, english isn’t my first language.

There are literal abuse victims in this fandom, and I personally know a lot of them relate to what c!Dream is going through (more on that later). Seeing this fandom dehumanize the character on such a large scale makes me sick and extremely worried for them, so shut up.

this is the full quote. translation; i am extremely worried for the abuse victims that relate to c!dream’s character for *reasons*, so shut up about this not being a problem.

i never said i was worried for the people who dehumanize him, and definitely not because i was accusing them for this sort of thing bleeding into their real life ideals or opinions.

since our first debate, i have seen poc and non-poc from colonized countries detailing why it is colonization even if the of inhabitants were white, so i do not find it insensitive for people to say it - i don’t necessarily agree nor disagree too much either, but it wasn’t a point i was making in the post, and wasn’t what the problem was about.

please tell me when i said you couldn’t sympathize with c!sam, because to me it seems like you’re making up a point. i’m saying sympathizing with him in the situation where he’s currently abusing someone because you hate the victim (you being some people, not actually you) rubs me the wrong way and feels like people are trying to shift the focus. i am rather sympathetic to c!sam, or as much as i allow myself to be with his actions (similarly to c!dream). i’d like to think i do not have a double standard for any of the characters and c!sam apologists who do not excuse his treatment of c!dream or victim blame him are a 100% valid to feel the way they do in my eyes.

there is a difference between trying to protect people and that desire for protection blooming into hatred, as you put it “obsession” (being willing to break the rules to keep him in), and trying to “break him” so he “wouldn’t try anything”. c!sam’s treatment of c!dream is severe and i do not find it understandable, justified or excused just because the prisoner being kept in inhumane conditions is “taunting him”. i am not saying his goals weren’t initially good or didn’t stem from a good place, but at this point he has become corrupted and his actions aren’t what i’d classify as valid responses to c!dream’s “taunts”.

thanks for the quote. i disagree that he planned to put him in the same position as he himself, because my logical conclusion is that he wouldn’t he in the main cell, and would be able to move around the prison, as well as not be abused by c!sam (who would still be the warden). anything c!dream would’ve done is speculation and there is no proof to the fact that it would happen. the prison wasn’t “remade for c!tommy”, it was more like an “eh, it’ll do” sort of thing. the prison’s conditions were pretty much remade to store someone they hated and considered either a threat or a tool, hence lesser than human. no one else in the prison would face the same treatment c!dream, because they’re not c!dream.

i never said you were calling me hypersensitive, what i meant was, i was hoping you didn’t think my concerns were a thing of sensitivity rather than the need of the community to change something. i would rather continue making posts and analysis in an effort to actively shift the fandom’s perspective than take a break, but i get how that might be beneficial for me to do in the long term, and did not think you would write that with malicious intent or as an insult to me or my personality.

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GODS AWAKEN (XIX)

Odalia walked into Emperor Belos’ throne room and prostrated herself before him and Nyarlathotep. “Lord Nyarlathotep, I have retrieved the book.”  

Luz and Amity awoke in the original bodies and sprung back to life. “Uh? What happened?”  

Amity groaned and fell backward her head throbbing with pain. “Why is my head spinning?” Her cheeks grew green and bloated out of the instinctive urge of retching whatever sour contents were churning in her stomach.  

“So that is apple blood,” Luz spoke to herself, “after this, I’m never going to try that stuff again.”  

Amity and Luz stared at each other surprised to find that they were back in their own bodies. They waved their hands in front of their faces and squeezed their arms until they took on a bluish hue. Their probing would only strengthen the notion that they were truly back in their bodies. But one thought came to their minds: if they were borrowing the bodies at the time, then what happened to the original host’s souls?  

“Welcome back to the Isles, human.”  

Belos had gotten off his throne and his large frame towered over the two. Unlike Odalia’s height at around 6 feet, Belos stood at a startling 8 feet. He eclipsed obviously Kikimora, his most trusted servant and right hand, but he was also an imposing figure when it came to the members of his imperial guards. This only accentuated the perceived majesty and authority he encouraged from his worshippers.  

Luz stared at the Emperor with contempt manifesting on her face. “Belos.”  

“I see that you are still bitter over our last encounter?” Emperor Belos asked. It was more a rhetorical question, really, but one he made out of amusement.  

“Where’s Eda?” Luz asked.

Emperor Belos raised his hand. “Unharmed, I assure you, but we must keep her from interfering with our plans.”  

He looked at the murals depicting the wild witches. “As you may have guessed I had...taken care of the wild magic practitioners...one by one.”  

Luz internally shivered at the implications of what he was entailing. He raised his staff and carefully traced an invisible line through the savage witches on the murals. “The Day of Unity is now upon us.”  

“How dare you send your hideous monsters to attack my home?” Luz demanded. Her fists shook and turned red to match the increasing anger in her face.  

Belos chuckled. “It was more of a method of ringing you out; I knew that because of your compassionate heart that you would rather give yourself up than allow more of those rats to die in your stead.”  

“Well, you got me now,” Luz stated never taking her eyes off Belos’, “so leave the Earth alone.”  

Belos tilted his head. “The Titan proclaims that the Earth must be laid to waste before it returns to its full powers. There is no stopping the inevitable. The Earth will bleed a deep, gushing red, before it crumbles away to its slow, miserable, pitiable demise.”  

Luz fought the urge of drawing a glyph to cave Belos’ head in. “Mami..”  

Belos’ eyes flickered and glowed. “Oh, your mother? She is here.”  

Luz’s eyes shot up. “She is.”  

The metallic fingers of his gloves came together to create an echoing snap. Warden Wrath walked into the throne room alongside the Owl Spy. Luz’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging agape. A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and tan skin was brought in with chains. A metal ring was fixed around her waist, and the heavy metal shackles around her ankles echoed on the floor in miserable tune.  

She wore glasses topped with a red frame. From what Luz could see, she was a continually tired woman with heavy bags behind her glasses. Her hair was in a disarray as well as her uniform, one of those outfits you would see in hospital settings. Tears were crudely decorated on the woman’s uniform, particularly towards the bottom where the hem of her shirt was.  

“Mom?”  

The woman looked up to see Luz running towards her. “Luz!?”  

Luz jumped and practically tackled her mother. “Is it really you?”  

“It is me,” she stated. She tried to hug her daughter back with her limited capabilities. “I have been so worried about you.”  

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Luz said, looking down. “I didn’t actually go to that summer camp that you wanted me to.”  

“I am just delighted to see that you’re okay,” she replied, “when those letters stopped coming in, I almost had a mental breakdown.”  

Luz felt moisture building in her eyes. She hated that she had to put her mother through that, but she had no other option in order to keep Belos from getting to Earth. She knew that at some point, the letters that she would send her Mom would soon drain up, but she was the optimist believing that she could find a way back home before her mother had the chance to worry.  

Amity scanned the woman Luz was hugging. “Who is that, Luz?”  

Luz looked back at the young witch her smile shining brighter than before. “This is my Mom, Amity.”  

Her mother gave a smile, but it was more forced given the circumstances. Amity’s thoughts spiraled out of control. “My future mother-in-law?” she asked.

“What was that?”  

Amity quickly caught herself. “Um, your mother and my mother in the same room.”  

Luz’s eyebrow peaked. “Why are you here, Mom?”  

Emperor Belos interrupted the reunion disgracefully. “Yes, why don’t you tell my grandchild why you are here, Camila?”  

The room grew quiet with not even the sound of a pin dropping on the floor could spur any response. Luz eyed Belos sternly. “Grandchild? What are you getting at?”  

“My, Camila, you kept this secret about yourself successfully hidden for years?” Belos asked again.  

“Mom, please, tell me what is going on.”  

Camila sighed. She exhaled sharply now looking at her feet in deep shame. “Luz, you love the Good Witch Azura books, don’t you?”  

Luz nodded. “Me and Amity both; we bonded over them.”  

“What if I were to tell you that there is some truth to those books?”  

Luz couldn’t understand what her mother was saying at first, but it did slowly start to dawn on her. “Are you saying that you’re Azura?”  

Camila snickered a bit and shook her head. “No, no; Azura is a fictional character...but I did use creative liberties when it came with writing the books.”  

The thought that the events of the books, regardless of whether they came about as fictious stretches of the actual events, crossed Luz’s mind. “Why did Belos call me his grandchild?”  

Camila sighed. “When I was around your age, I found myself in the demon realm much like you – I can’t for the life of me remember how if it was through some door or other means – but I was a foreigner in a world that discriminated against humans.”  

Luz listened carefully not noticing that Odalia was singling for her daughter to be taken away.  

“One day, Emperor Belos discovered me with some old scraps of metal and trash and decided to adopt me for reasons I did not understand at the time. He told me that humans were unable to practice magic on the Boiling Isles because of them lacking the bile sac necessary for it, so he placed a bit of his evil, dark magic into my body and took me as a protégé.”  

“So that was why I was able to see those glyphs?” Luz asked.  

“After being trained under him for some time, he told me of the Day of Unity. It was some weird, cultish holiday I had initially taken it. But I soon found out what intentions he had for the Earth, and I fought against him. With his own magic surging through my veins, I easily overpowered the Emperor and...I might have caused him to be in his current unhealthy state of being because I can sense now that Belos is slowly dying.”  

Luz saw discarded palisman carcasses around Belos’ throne. “Was that why you wanted me to stop being obsessed with fantasy books and magic?”  

Camila nodded her head. “It was a selfish thing for me to do, but I wanted to protect you from the knowledge that such a world existed.” She looked at her feet again likely fearful of meeting her daughter’s eyes. “That was why I was hopeful that the trip would remove that desire so you would never come to this world.”  

Luz didn’t know what to say after being given such a bombshell. Her mom knew about the Boiling Isles because she had been there at some point only to somehow escape once things got sour. Now she learned that Belos took her mother in and how she was now his granddaughter. She had his malevolent magic flowing through her body. Her heart was pumping his unholy blood into her veins and through her bloodstream. It made considerable sense because, as was explained to her by Eda years ago, humans could not practice magic.  

“Luz?” Camila asked.  

Luz was still speechless and incapable of reaction. Belos laughed again and tapped Camila’s forehead with the staff. “I was hoping that I could take your daughter in and have her as a protégé to turn her against you, but that plan went awry.”  

He glared at Warden Wrath. “Take her to the execution site.”  

Warden Wrath shook his head and grabbed a hold of Camila. Camila’s legs shook but were heavily weighed down by the shackles. “Luz!”  

Luz tried to run after Warden Wrath, but Odalia shot a blue stream at Luz; it ripped into the floor dividing it in half. “No wrong step, or I will slice you in two as well.”  

“Mom!” Luz shouted. She shot daggers from her eyes at Belos. “Unhand her at once!”  

Belos shook his head. “The sins of the past must be made to pay for.” He exited the throne room before turning around once he reached the exit behind the beating heart of the Titan. “I’ll have my master take it from here.”  

Nyarlathotep, once more in his Black Pharaoh guise, approached the girl. “Hello once again, Luz.”  

“It’s you!” Luz shouted and pointing her finger at accusingly. “Was this all your idea!?”  

“I’m not a man who has pre-made plans just hanging there collecting dust,” Nyarlathotep said with a half-serious tone. “Odalia, give her the Necronomicon.”  

Odalia’s eyes shot up. “Lord Nyarlathotep, why would-”  

“That is an order,” Nyarlathotep replied. His voice went down a couple octaves.  

Shaking, Odalia handed the Necronomicon to the human girl and made her leave. Luz had a weird feeling about this. “What game is this?”  

“When you are literally older than time itself, it’s always best to play a game to take a load off your mind,”  Nyarlathotep answered.  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers. Above him was a column wherein a trap door opened. From there, she could see a large, glass cage descending. She squinted her eyes to make out the figures. Eda, King, and Lilith were inside. At the side of the cage was Hypnos, once more in his youthful appearance, flowers and all. He held the piece of horn in his hand.  

“Eda!” Luz proclaimed.  

Eda looked up happy to hear her apprentice’s voice. “Kid, you made it!”  

King and Lilith also turned their glances to Luz. King jumped up and down much like how a dog does whenever they are happy to see their owner come back. Lilith smiled as well, but it was a small one. Luz slammed against the cage’s walls. “Youch!” Luz rubbed her injured nose with her hands. “You guys are alive?”  

“Nyarlathotep took us as prisoners and had us as bargaining chips for you,” Lilith explained.  

“Well, don’t worry, I’ll have you out lickety split!”  

“Wait, Luz!” Eda screamed.

Luz smashed her fist on the glass only for it to bounce back. Thinking, Luz looked into the bag to find something she could use to break the cage. She scribbled glyphs on paper and activated them, but it only made the magical glass stronger. Luz turned to her bag again this time drawing out the jar containing the shoggoth. She tossed it at the cage, but, like with the other objects she tried to use, it rebounded and skyrocketed off the glass. It shot across the room and exited out the door when Kikimora opened it.  

“Luz, you can’t break the glass; we all tried to break it ourselves, but there’s no use,” Eda said at last.  

“There has to be something..” Luz lamented.

“Aye, there is a way, my dear,” Nyarlathotep answered.  

“Why should I trust you?” Luz asked in a matter-of-fact way.  

“The glass can either be broken two ways; either I can use my powers to free the three captives, or an Elder God can destroy it.”  

“Well, I want you to free them!” Luz declared.  

Nyarlathotep held his finger up. “Quid pro quo, my dear, quid pro quo.”  

“Squid pro what?” Luz reiterated.  

“I will free them and you will all go on to live happy lives if you gave me the book.”  

Luz held the demonic book between her arms. “But I can’t just give the book over to someone like you.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because you’re evil; I know somehow you were responsible for the attack on the Earth; a lot of people could die if I gave you this book.”  

“Are a million lives more important to you than the lives of your mentor; her sister; and your pet?”  

“I am not a pet!” King remarked.  

Nyarlathotep ignored the demon and kept speaking. “It would be an unfortunate occasion if they were ripped away from you.”  

“Nyarlathotep, before you do your business with the three captives, do allow me the opportunity to give this demon his horn back.”  

Nyarlathotep looked at the Elder God with suspicion, but flicked his hand. “At least he should be presentable before dying I presume.”  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers allowing a small hole to form in the wall. Hypnos slipped the horn into the hole and it resealed after he removed his hand. Eda eyed the horn piece with curiosity. “It looks like it’s the size of your horn, King.”  

She dropped the horn in King’s lap and he sniffed it. “Feels like it; smells like it to...how did I lose it again?”  

He shrugged and dropped it over the crack of his horn. Before he could say anything further, the missing horn piece slipped in like a jigsaw puzzle. A green light glowed around the horn acting as an adhesive glue. In a flash, everything became crystal clear to King as his memories came blasting in at full force. An overtaking sensation. It all came flashing at once: the woman. The large, bat-like monstrosity with the one, three-lobed, bulging eye. The screams. And the smoky vapor – now he could perceive that it materialized together to form the appearance of a man. A tall man wearing a dark cloak. One who was bereft of any strand of hair and his skin darker than the darkest night. The green orb came out from a spell circle the hideous man drew. His mouth was stretched inhumanly widely into a twisted, ghastly grin.  

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked.

King sprawled on the floor of the cage sweat beads rolling down his skull head. He retched but nothing came up. Panic was building within him writhing in anguish for release. He looked at Nyarlathotep with complete hatred. “You were the one who killed my Mom, weren’t you?”  

Nyarlathotep looked at him with an amused smile. “You have to be more specific than that, child; I may be eternal, but that doesn’t mean I have an internal memory box that catalogues every individual scream.”  

Luz gripped the Necronomicon with anger. “So you killed King’s mother and cursed him?” She looked at the despairing demon. “And you decided to take it as a memento to remember your kill?”  

Nyarlathotep shrugged. “As I have said, I cannot be held to remember every one of my little endeavors.”  

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers again. This time, the top of the cage opened with a gush of running water dropping down. Eda and the others were not too freaked out in that moment, but they could quickly see that the more water flowing into their cell, it was accumulating quickly and already taking the shape of the cage. They looked at Nyarlathotep who in turn gave them a look of humor. They banged their fists against the cage’s walls, but it only rebounded on them.  

“Nyarlathotep! Stop this nonsense!” Luz yelled. “You’ll drown them.”  

“I will free them,” Nyarlathotep promised, “but you will have to give me the Necronomicon in return.”  

“And how do I know that you won’t go against your promise?” Luz asked reasonably. It made sense for her to doubt the Crawling Chaos’ claims, but in her peripheral vision, she saw that the water was already up Lilith and Eda’s waists. King jumped on top of Eda’s head to keep his body dry, but this had the negative effect of pushing Eda deeper into the rushing water.  

“I’m afraid that they don’t have long for this world, Luz.”  

Eda and Lilith were up to their necks. “I always thought it would end by some overdose on potion,” Eda lamented.

Concern was in Lilith’s eyes, but she chuckled at the dark joke. “That’s my Edalyn, alright.”  

Luz found herself in internal conflict. She truly wanted to save the three roommates she had, but she couldn’t just hand a book of such cosmic power to the bad guy. Nyarlathotep seemed to read her mind when he spoke again.  

“I feel that you think that if something were to befall your teacher, you would be lost in the world.”  

Luz squinted. “What?”  

“If you were to give the book to me, I will make you my personal protégé; you will learn about all the secrets of this world and truly become the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. Leagues above your mentor, and even Belos himself. You can reign by my side as I destroy this world and remake it befitting to our image. The universe and the gods themselves will look at you in favor and you would never have the need to want again. Is that a deal?”  

Luz could admit that Nyarlathotep’s deal did have a kernel of her interest. Knowledge over everything could come in handy. While she did love Eda dearly, Eda was at a loss now because of her magic being at an all-time low. Maybe with Nyarlathotep’s help, she could learn a way of curing Eda of her curse and subsequently return her back to her previous state. As she thought, she took another glance at the cage now taken aback. The three captives were completely submerged in the water and were desperately hitting the walls of the cage in hopes of breaking them. Liquid was filling their lungs, cutting their oxygen supply sharply. They moved their legs back and forth in a fishy motion. Yet for every strike and punch they could muster, the cage’s walls jiggled back from the brunt force.  

Luz turned to Nyarlathotep. “No; I refuse.”  

Before Nyarlathotep’s eyes, Luz flipped the Necronomicon over revealing several fire glyphs on the back. Nyarlathotep’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “Mortal, please reconsider!”  

Luz took another glance at Eda and the others and saw that their movements were screeching to a halt and they sunk towards the ground of the cage. Luz had made her decision. She slammed her hand on the back of the Necronomicon, and it erupted in flames.  

“No!” Nyarlathotep screamed.  

The flames licked the ancient, crisp pages of the Necronomicon and exploded. A shrill hiss filled the air to indicate that the malevolent spirit lurking in the pages of the banned book was dying. Dark green, eldritch smoke crawled out of the embers of the fire and ascended skyward. Luz heard the pages crackle and pop reminding her of the sweet smell of fresh popcorn like the kind you could get at movie theaters. With one final death throe, the Necronomicon crumbled into a heap of ashes.  

Luz looked at Nyarlathotep spitefully. “You have lost, Nyarlathotep.”  

Instead of seeing his hurt, irritated face, Nyarlathotep was once more smiling. He chuckled deeply from the darkest, deepest regions of his stomach. He held his hands over the burning heap that was once the Necronomicon and absorbed a black light that suddenly appeared. He grew larger with his arms and legs becoming more muscular and pronounced. His abdomen became gargantuan as well to accentuate his broad shoulders. No more did he resemble a human, even if a crude mockery of one. He was now a hulking monster with rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth.  

A wave of dark power rocked Emperor Belos’ throne room and empire. It shattered the glass cage containing Eda, Lilith and King, and they were washed out on the floor. Eda coughed up the water in a wheeze. “That was close.”  

Before she said anything else, she saw Nyarlathotep tower before them. Alerted, she looked at Luz. “Kid, did you destroy the book or not?”  

“Yes, Eda, I did, but...something came up that I did not anticipate.”  

The ceiling shook and debris started to sprinkle down. From the point of origin, the dark wave of evil magic wreaked havoc through the Isles due to its intensity. Many of the imperial guards were caught in the wave and effortlessly disintegrated. Buildings and houses crumbled from their destroyed foundations compelling the denizens to evacuate from their houses lest they were the casualties. Emperor Belos hid away alongside Kikimora.  

“Sire, what happened!?” Kikimora asked.  

“It is nothing to be concerned about, Kiki,” Emperor Belos replied. He eyed his throne room. “So it did work as planned.”  

Nyarlathotep cackled his deep, monotonous voice shaking the floor. “It has been a thousand years, but it was completely worth it!”  

Luz couldn’t comprehend what had happened. “But..but I destroyed the Necronomicon; you saw it.”  

“I had already overseen the notion that you would refuse to rule by my side, but the good thing about it is that even if you accepted, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would still have reclaimed the powers that I lost. Even if you destroyed the book, that would entail that my powers would be returned to me either way.”  

Luz looked down. “Then it is truly hopeless.”  

Nyarlathotep raised his large scepter. “Before I lay waste to this world, I did promise Boscha that I would humor her little battle with your friend; may as well set the stage for it.”  

“I’ll find a way to stop you,” Luz declared. It was a heat of the moment thing, but she truly did mean it.  

Nyarlathotep chuckled. “After Boscha wins, I guess I’ll honor my deal with Belos and destroy the Earth for good measure.”  

With that, Nyarlathotep transformed into a black wind and swirled out of the throne room cackling his head off.  

[hyena-frog]

I personally don't understand people who think that Virginia 'can't win on her own'. As if she has to prove herself or she is 'too nice' and has to learn 'how to violence'. Just because Sevro's solution for everything is cutting some fingers or worse, doesn't mean he is always right or that Mustang's work to keep that balance and play within the designated lines is not badass or interesting. She is the only demokratic ruler and her own people gave her absolute power of decision making to end the war at any cost. What's not great about that!?

If Virginia was indeed 'too nice', she would have perished long ago - last absolute cinnamon roll we saw was Julian and we all know what Society thinks about people like him. Just because she plays by the rules, doesn't mean she has no claws - she wiped a terrorist's memories away for fuck's sake. Now that the rules have been extended, you can bet your ass that she'll take more than one page out of Nero's playbook. After all, she said it herself, she tamed herself, but it's fun to let the lion out.

Agreed 110%! I don't understand people who give Virginia shit in general tbh. I mean, how do you not fall in love with her immediately? How are you not ride or die for her from the get-go? It boggles the mind.

Those arguments, being "too nice" or being unable to win on her own, are reaching and easily debunkable. The lack of reading comprehension. 😒 If you don't like her, then whatever. I may not understand how that’s possible, but it really isn’t necessary to make shit up, you know?

Virginia can't win on her own, huh. The nerve! Where would Darrow be without her? Dead. Many times over. He would have bled out after Cassius stabbed him if Virginia hadn't helped him. And it was Virginia who brought the Howlers back from the Rim weeks in advance of Darrow actually needing them, just in case. So many things would have gone wrong in Morning Star if she wasn't at Darrow's side (and if Ragnar hadn't gone out of his way to make sure she'd be there, the absolute legend).

Perhaps it's Darrow who can't win on his own? But that sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? All of his successes were achieved through teamwork. Darrow acknowledges this many times. It's the same for Virginia. While it's simply not true that she can't win on her own, it’s also untrue that the inability to win on your own is a bad thing. The whole argument doesn’t make any sense.

The idea Virginia still needs to “prove” herself despite doing so plenty of times already throughout the series is frustrating. The fact of the matter is, the success of the Rising relies just as heavily on Virginia's intelligence as it does Darrow's battle skills. The Solar Republic simply wouldn't exist without her. Fitchner never had a clear vision of what "after the Society" would look like and neither did Darrow for a long time. The war effort needs a conscience and a vision for the future, otherwise it's just endless bloodshed. Virginia helps Darrow see beyond the bloodshed. Plus, Darrow has no interest in politics. He'd be the first to admit he’s not good at the slow game of political maneuvering. But Virginia thrives in that environment. In Dark Age, Darrow even admits his current predicament is a consequence of not trusting his wife's way of running the Republic, and he vows never to do that again.

Sure, Virginia doesn't get into physical fights often, especially now that she is Sovereign. But politics is no less perilous a battlefield. I feel like because the political battlefield isn't as flashy and fast paced as a literal one, people forget the constant danger she is in, even before the Senate's betrayal. Silenius' Stiletto is a delicate tightrope act she has to perform every day to drag progress forward while keeping her opponents in check. This requires a level of self-restraint, clear-headedness, and badassery, that no other character can achieve.

Virginia is not "too nice." She is practical. And often, is it practical to play nice. Not every confrontation is best solved through violence Sevro. We all know the line: Virginia is the mustang that nuzzles the hand; people know they can work with her. That’s why the people chose her consistently for ten years, over literally everyone else in the solar system, to run this new government. And her steadfast resolve to gain Imperium legally, to not force her will on the people, proved to them again that she won’t abuse this ultimate power to end the war.

No, Virginia may be reasonable but that doesn't mean she is too nice. If she was too nice, she wouldn't have used her relationship with Cassius to protect her family. She wouldn't have shot Cassius in the throat with an arrow. She wouldn't have promised Ephraim he would "die shitting in a foreign bed" if he skipped about on their bargain to return the kids. She wouldn't have zapped the Duke of Hands' entire personality from his head. Like you said, she never would have made it this far if she was truly toothless. She's practical, and sometimes the practical solution doesn't require violence, but creative thinking.

Speaking of creative thinking, one thing Virginia doesn’t get nearly enough credit for is abolishing the death penalty immediately after Adrius was hanged. That wasn't her being "too nice" or too lenient on her caste. Yes, she feels life in prison is the moral option over the death penalty. But she knows her people. The punishment for the worst criminals in Deepgrave is a Gold's worst nightmare. Life in prison denies a Gold their desire for a glorious death, to be remembered through the ages for their deeds in battle. The Republic's justice system sends a clear message: "Mess with us, and you won't get your notoriety or fame, you'll only get obscurity and shame and sucking algae through a tube until you die naturally of old age." That to me is crueler than hanging.

Virginia’s mind is her greatest weapon, but more than that, her greatest strength is how she applies her intelligence. Her ability to read people, and to communicate, is greatly underappreciated imo. These skills require nonviolent interaction yet they yield great results. There are many examples of this. She used her natural charisma to gain Octavia's trust. She brokered an alliance with the Rim when she thought Darrow was dead. She held the Republic together for ten years despite constant, increasing animosity from the Vox. She refused to torture Lyria and was able to see she was not lying about being an unwitting pawn in the kidnapping scheme and was rewarded with information and a new ally. She figured out exactly what Sefi was planning for Cimmeria, even manipulating the situation to her advantage without Sefi realizing it. She knew Victra was going to bargain with Sefi for the kids, without being told. In her own words, this is simply what she does.

There is a quote in Iron Gold that caught my eye: "Communication is the soul of civilization." (532) Now, this line has nothing directly to do with Virginia. This is Ephraim trying to get a rise out of Gorgo. But it fits Virginia perfectly, doesn’t it? The Republic is able to exist as a civilization because it has such an amazing communicator at its center.

Virginia is such an excellent communicator that she is even able to get parties who refuse to communicate with her initially to reciprocate communication eventually. She convinces Sevro, Dancer, and even Victra to stop freezing her out and work together. She does this by speaking their "language." She knows exactly what to say or what to do to get them to finally listen to her. Revealing she already knows exactly what is going on works for Sevro, providing hard evidence of conspiracy works for Dancer, and proving her actions (showing her scars) works for Victra. This isn't to say she never makes mistakes. She shouldn't have called the Wardens on Darrow, for example, just as Darrow shouldn't have kept the meeting with the Society "diplomats" a secret from her and the Senate. But more often than not, her nonviolent communication skills yield valuable results.

As for Virginia apparently needing to learn how to use violence… While Victra and Sevro’s feelings were justified, their actions at the end of Iron Gold and the beginning of Dark Age were just wrong, wrong, wrong imo. Freezing out Virginia did nothing but delay the return of the kids. It's frustrating to think how much heartbreak could have been avoided if they'd just put their heads together from the moment the kids disappeared. And what exactly did Sevro's rampage through Luna's underground accomplish? Some dead Syndicate thorns, sure. But that tantrum put a huge target on Sevro's back. As Virginia said, one lucky sniper and boom, no more Sevro. What would Victra have done then?

While it may feel like Virginia would have achieved more if she just beheaded some people, she has a responsibility as Sovereign to consider the bigger picture. She has to consider the Stiletto. If the Vox saw her offing some fools it would have added credibility to their smear campaign. The people would have lost faith in her and think she turned into another Octavia. Whoever replaced her could use her actions to justify their own dictatorship. Violence was simply not practical for her until she legally gained Imperium. Now though… 😈

Virginia's over here playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing Connect Four, but this still isn’t enough for some people. After the clone gets the better of her, she gets flack for not being an omniscient god and just knowing her twin brother laid out a plan to clone himself ten years ago. Tut, tut, should have seen that one coming, despite the lack of evidence. If only she’d punched some people. (Can you see I hate this argument with every fiber of my being?)

In Dark Age, Ozgard says this about Electra and Pax: "She is better fighter. He is more dangerous human." (184) Well, Pax gets it from his momma. Pax and Virginia may not be able to throw devastating punches but in many ways, their intellect is what makes them the greater threat to their enemies.

Thank you for the ask!

[dragonswithjetpacks]

I’m going to say this one time about Cullen and that’s it. And my opinion will be out there and done. This is not a negative post. But this is a long post so buckle up babes.

*warning for use of language because I swear like a sailor*

*also brief mention of rape*

Anyway, Cullen is a perfect example of poor planning in the gaming industry.

He is also a perfect example of fans thirsting so hard and wanting something so bad that the writers and developers change a character and even game elements to suite their needs. They didn’t even give him a book or a comic for redemption. You know what they did instead? They switched writers. Cullen has three writers. All of them with a different character in mind.

Cullen was a fucked up mess in Origins. He was meant to be creepy and sociopathic. I get that. The writer who basically created him had no idea he was even going to be not only a reoccurring character, but one that was going to be romance able in future games. She even apologized. Which wasn’t necessary. And so many people who played the game missed a big point about Cullen. He was never supposed to recover from Origins.

“The young templar Cullen never quite recovered from his ordeal. After months of attempting to convince his superiors that the tower was still a danger, he finally snapped and killed three apprentices before being stopped by his fellow templars. Eventually, Cullen escaped from prison, a madman and a threat to any mage he encountered.”

“Once the tower was rebuilt, Knight-Commander Greagoir stepped down from his post and retired to a life of private contemplation as a brother in the Chantry. His health failed over time, and after refusing treatment, he perished in his sleep. Knight-Commander Cullen was said to be more strict and less trusting of the mages even than Greagoir was. He ruled the Circle with fear.”

I’m sorry. But yeah. That’s the epilogue on two different choices involving the Circle’s fate in Origins. And it was ignored. I agree with that, too. But it wasn’t just Cullen that was ignored. It was the entire Circle at Kinloch Hold. If the mage warden sacrifices their own life, the Circle is supposedly free. Which... is not mentioned... ever again. And not to mention is impossible? Like okay thanks Anora or whoever but I don’t think you can just do that.

Poor writing.

I’d also like to mention for the record I did not like Cullen in Origins. I still don’t.

Now, I don’t know why exactly Cullen was brought back in DA2? I know his writer got bullied out of Bioware. I do not have an opinion on that. I mean the woman co-wrote my favorite part of Origins (Anvil of the Void). She also wrote Anders. Which I don’t think is a coincidence. People, men and women, often have this idea of fixing a broken person. It’s heavily romanticized. It’s called codependency. And you see it a lot in romance novels. But that’s another topic. It seems this writer implemented that in the game (along with some of her own personal things she had) without fully knowing Cullen would even be a romantic interest in Inquisition, but also still wanting to give him some sort reason to be desired. And all the while knowing Anders was fully romanceable. Even... a little forcefully... romanceable... if I may add... (I am uncomfortable) I also dislike some of Anders’ writing but that’s another post and I don’t want to compare the two. But Anders was the opposite side of Cullen that was done better because they had time to write it.

Regardless, Cullen seemed to hold some resemblance to his former character. But we do see a lot hesitance with him. He’s basically that “good” cop that doesn’t do anything when the bad cop is beating the shit out of everyone. Still not good, hence the quotes. Not a good guy. He has his meh he’s alright moments. And seems to generally disregard Hawke in every single way. But he’s still an ass hole for letting things happen the way that they did when he could very much so have put a stop to it. Maybe it was the writers’ intention to make it that way to show he was still suffering from trauma in Origins.

Again. Poor writing. BECAUSE WE DON’T KNOW. DIDN’T HE KILL THREE PEOPLE, BIOWARE? ISN’T HE SUPPOSED TO BE KNIGHT COMMANDER IN FERELDEN, B I O W A R E??? WHAT. HAPPENED. BIOWARE.

So here’s the next thing. They decided to slip him into Inquisition for whatever reason. His writing was fair enough in DA2. Could have been better. But these people are still thirsty. They want some Curly. At the last minute, they throw romance on him. Not a bad idea. But are we supposed to forget the man was basically raped by desire demons? Is he even ok to have a relationship? OH WAIT THAT’S RIGHT. We didn’t closure on that because they ignored it.

Anyway, Cullen in Inquisition seems to be different. But because they couldn’t just, oh I don’t know, write a different character with the same traits but better, they had to somehow put the events of the previous games and how it affected him into this new current game where he supposed to be... better? Ish? Which is where we get the stereo type soldier with PTSD and a substance abuse problem. Now, if you’re any good with imagining and writing fanfic, then you probably know or already have figured out a way to connect everything better than Bioware could. But hey. Last minute romance written in on a character who was already all over the charts? Count me in. I like a good writing challenge. Poor girl who took the job of writing Inquisition Cullen likes a challenge too, apparently. Because it was her first big project. And she didn’t do a bad job. But imagine working hard on trying to write a character half the fandom hates into someone somewhat likeable just for everyone to shit all over it.

The way I look at it.... we have three different characters. And he is not really a good example to look at analyze wise. He is inconsistent. And was molded for Inquisition for thirsty fan girls. And some boys (I see you). A good example for study would be Morrigan. Or even Alistair. And Alistair is in several of the comics and still remains pretty consistent. Leliana is a prime example of character development over a course of three games. And I highly recommend you fall in love with her good and bad side because she is written beautifully. Don’t @ me.

Cullen, and I mean Inquisition Cullen, has a lot to like. And a lot to dislike. Every character is flawed. I think a lot of hate that gets tagged onto Cullen is really from poor writing. They really got lazy with him. And it is a shame. I feel like he could have been redeemed way better. He could have had one hell of a redemption. Or possibly just skipped over all together. I see a lot of posts about putting Samson in his place and I often agree. It was never quite the character that made him appealing to me. It was the personality. And they could have easily done with anyone. They could have made Samson sexy, too. It didn’t have to be sexy Cullen. And let’s face it. With Cullen’s writing in Origins and even some of the writing in DA2, Cullen siding with Coryphedouche is way more fitting than Samson.

Basically, it is up to us to fill in the gaps. So I love seeing fanfic with Cullen backstory. Because it gives better insight than what the writers could accomplish. And I applaud you if you’ve done that. BUT the over sexualization of this character is a bit... wrong. It feels wrong. And that’s all I’ll say to that. Personally, I’ve been working on some Cullen romance fic for awhile and it’s been challenging trying to find a way to make him less douchey. One minute, he’s yelling at you about mages. And the next, he’s got this soft tone and nervous look. Like, yeah... you can tell it’s rushed. And awful. And even the dialogue is just... painful. It doesn’t fit. (you can check my Cullen tag in blog to see how I feel about that). I will say that even speaking to him on a personal note, asking him questions about life as a templar, he even says he does not agree with the Order. And he wants to change his thinking. But he still gets angry when you go to side with the mages. It feels like they wanted redeem him but they also needed someone to side with the templars to provide conflict at the war table.

So in my opinion, calling him controlling and abusive is a bit of a stretch. He was clearly used by the writers. It just seems ridiculous to put so much effort in bashing the character when clearly... he was not planned out... or put together... I just... I don’t get...

I know what you’re thinking at this point: Kay.... why do you like him then?

Beacause. I am weak for a man who gets nervous around girls he likes. His awkward mannerisms despite being a man of power makes me weak. The need to protect also makes me weak. But also the ability to admit vulnerability makes me suuuuuper weak. So like I said. There was a lot there. It just was not delivered correctly. You know what I would have done? If I had to put him in the Commander shoes, I would have made the whole Kirkwall thing a life changer for him. Maybe even give him a soul searching type situation before joining the Inquisition. And definitely tell him to keep his mouth shut about siding with the templars.

Long story short: Ya’ll thirsted over a weird dude in Origins and Bioware went hmmmm okay. But by the time they gave him to you on a silver plate, it was last minute. Like you just found out your crush Jared is going to Becky’s party but you’re already at Jessica’s house and have like nothing to wear so you have to just wing it. And your shoes look tacky, but Jessica’s shoes don’t fit. So you either have to wear shoes that don’t fit or just look like omg total garbage. And Bioware went with the shoes that don’t fit. And Jared totally likes them.

I’m also going to say the most controversial thing on this entire post by just... saying... by calling Cullen out as trash without realizing the writing, the directive, the lack of development, the rush on this character, and the complete absolute bullying this community does to it’s FANS AND WRITERS kind of feels like you didn’t really put any effort into understanding why and just jumped on a band wagon. And the fact that some of you make other people feel bad for liking this character is awful. Some of the most toxic shit I’ve seen. Like maybe they like this character from Inquisition because, I don’t know, maaaaaaybe he was written out almost like a new character with a last minute fantasy romance.. because he kind of was...

Now for my opinion on Greg Ellis.

FUCK THAT GUY.

And that’s it. Thanks for stopping by. If you agree cool, if not cool. I’m not here to argue with anyone or say your opinion is invalid. We all have reasons why we hate or love the color blue. So we can all disagree or agree and live in peace and still love a game.

You can always message me, too, guys. I have a lot of opinions. And reasons for my opinions. And theories. And just things in general. But I will not hate characters written in Dragon Age. Someone wrote them. Someone is out there working their ass off to deliver a character. And I refuse to hate someone fictional.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 3/? Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe Additional Tags: Established Relationship Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one who was shackled next to you? What do you have in common, save for the chains that bound you both?

Yvanne didn’t remember what she had gone to Amaranthine for, afterward. Somebody had needed something from the city market. Anders, maybe? He’d been there. Loriel hadn’t come, due to some pressing meeting or another, but that was fine. When they’d first straightened things out between them, and for months after that, they’d been joined at the hip, awash with new-old feelings, but that had been then. They were hardly a brand-new couple unable to stand a moment apart now . It should have been fine.

She hadn’t been expecting to see a familiar face.

Yvanne caught sight of Wynne too late to avoid her, and too early to just walk past her. Worse, Wynne had spotted her, too, at almost the same moment.

“Amell,” the old woman said by way of greeting. “How nice to see you well.”

If Loriel had been here she would have smiled pleasantly and talked to Wynne about nothing whatsoever, maybe offered to do her a favor, and the conversation would have ended with everyone feeling a little bit better about themselves. And probably later Yvanne would have made some kind of snotty comment and Loriel might have rolled her eyes, or maybe snickered in guilty agreement, or just put an arm around her waist as she grumbled.

But Loriel wasn’t there, and Yvanne had to face Wynne alone.

“Right,” Yvanne said. “How nice.”

During the Blight, she had resented Wynne’s presence with their group. She had tolerated it only because Loriel had insisted they needed every hand they could get, and anyway Yvanne knew her own skills as a healer were nothing compared to a senior mage’s. Probably they still weren’t—Yvanne had spent less time pursuing spirit healing in the past year than she had on playing at being a swordswoman. And she wasn’t much good at that, either.

Wynne had made a brief overture at rekindling that relationship, an overture which Yvanne was quick to crush. Having had it made abundantly clear to her that Yvanne would not be tolerating her input on anything she did, Wynne had refocused to Loriel. Loriel was a much better student, it was true. She had smiled and nodded and agreed entirely with everything Wynne advised, and then ignored all of it to do what she wanted instead.

Yvanne had hated her so much, for so long.

In her teenage memory Wynne was worse than the Templars. She’d collaborated. She’d made excuses and agreed with their hateful lies and tacitly allowed it all to happen. Yvanne had seen her treat people who’d been beaten, people who’d been whipped, who’d been raped. Seen her saying nothing, like it was alright, like it was fine. She’d hated her complicity, hated her kind voice, hated her patience, hated how she’d tried to be Yvanne’s mother when Yvanne had never had one and had never wanted one, anyway.

She hated that in a weak and watery sort of way, she almost could have loved her.

She hated that looking at her now, just a little older, just a little more tired—Yvanne didn’t hate her anymore.

Where had the hatred gone? She searched for the raw and bleeding center of venom and rage, and yes, it was still there, perhaps it would never go away, but for now it was dormant.  When had it left her, so bereft and without direction? During the Blight, when she’d first sorted things out with Loriel? No. Not then. Not the night after, either, or the one after that. But somehow, little by little, she had changed.

Now when she looked at the old woman, she felt only a vague and piercing sadness and regret that it hadn’t been different.

Before she could stop herself, Yvanne’s lips were moving. “I—uhm. Would you maybe—would you maybe like to get a drink?” she said, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. “And you can tell me how you’ve been. And I know you like wine. And the Crown and Lion is nearby.”

Yvanne at least had the satisfaction of catching the old woman off guard. “Well,” Wynne said, “I must say, I wasn’t expecting that. And truth be told, I don’t have much time…” Yvanne’s heart seized with relief and disappointment, “…but perhaps I can make some, for you.”

Her stomach clenched. “Right. Okay.” She glanced round for Anders but he was nowhere to be found. She’d last seen him speaking with an elven woman she didn’t recognize. This, too, brought relief and disappointment. She’d be doing this by herself. “This way, then.”

The Crown and Lion was just loud and crowded enough to disappear in, but still warm and bright to not cloy. They sat. Wynne took wine. Yvanne took something bright blue and caustic that tasted like fire and ice at the same time. It didn’t do much to calm her nerves, but it did seem to do something.

They talked of nearly nothing at all. Wynne asked after Loriel. Yvanne said she was fine. She told her Anders was a Warden now. Wynne asked how he was, in a tone of faint disapproval. Yvanne said he was fine, too. She mentioned about Oghren also being a Warden now. How nice that was, Wynne said, sounding almost but not quite sincere.

And it was utterly vacuous, and very nearly not so horrible, until Wynne seemed to forget completely who she was speaking to.

“Have you considered at all,” Wynne said, “returning to the Circle?”

At first Yvanne didn’t understand her. Surely nobody could say something so insane on purpose. “What? No. Why in the void would I do that?”

“To help rebuild,” Wynne said. “After what happened, things are—well, not ideal. Every pair of talented hands helps.”

“I’ll kill myself before I ever go back to a Circle,” Yvanne said, and drank the rest of whatever was in her mug.

“I see,” Wynne said crisply. “Well, I suppose not everything can change at once.”

“It won’t change at all,” Yvanne said. “Ever.”

“Of course you think so now, dear. No matter. I’ve said my piece.”

A number of responses sprung to Yvanne’s mind, each more awful than the last. She rose slightly to spit out one or the other, the motion coming as easily as breathing, but at just as soon, they died on her lips. She thought about relating the whole incident to Loriel later, and how disappointed she’d be, how she’d pretend that she wasn’t but still sigh and look away from her.

“Fine,” Yvanne bit out instead. “It doesn’t matter.”

Wynne sensed that the truce was coming to its natural conclusion. “But as I said,” she said, “I don’t have very much time. I am on my way to Cumberland, for the convening of the College of the Magi, and my colleague is missing.”

“Well! That sounds like a whole lot of none of my business,” Yvanne said cheerily, wondering if she ought to order a third one of whatever it was she’d just drunk.

“On the contrary,” said Wynne, “It is very much your business. You are still a mage, and the legal affairs of mages concern you. The Libertarians are voting to break away from the Chantry entirely.”

Yvanne snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet they’ll achieve lots that way. Let’s just vote our troubles away! That’ll work!”

“If the vote goes through, we may have a disaster on our hands.” Wynne looked steadily at her. “You truly care not at all?”

“I truly care not at all.”

“Then what do you care about, I wonder?”

Yvanne wasn’t about to answer that. “I hope the vote does go through and I hope there is a huge disaster,” she said. “And I’m not a mage, I’m the Warden-Lieutenant. This was a bad idea, and I’m done talking to you now. Goodbye.”

She stood up, rattling the chair so hard that it fell to the flagstones with a clatter. She started to stomp away, but not fast enough.

“Hmph. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. At this rate it’s a matter of when disaster strikes, not if.” Wynne said, ostensibly to herself—but just loud enough.

Yvanne turned. “ What did you say?”

Wynne shook her head. “It was clear to me even during the Blight. If, as you say, you are the Warden-Lieutenant, then Warden you must be—but to be a Warden is to put duty above anything else. Loriel understands duty, but you do not. You have changed very little since you were a child. I had hoped she would be good for you, but you remain as selfish and impulsive as ever. I fear very much what your relationship with Loriel will bring to her, to you, and to everyone around you. Your actions will reflect on all mages, mark my words.”

Yvanne burned. “You’re a horrible mean old woman and you don’t have anything to teach me, and you’re wrong about—about all of that! To the void with you!”

She came away blistering, humiliated, feeling stupid for having ever had a single tender feeling towards Wynne, or the Warden recruits, or anyone, or anything.

—

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re back, I wanted to—you’re upset. What’s upsetting you?” Loriel stopped up short, tilting her head.

“I’m not upset. Nothing’s upsetting me. Quit worrying.” Yvanne closed the door behind her, tapping her foot. It had been late when she’d come back to the Keep, and she’d gone to her and Loriel’s chambers, expecting to at least be able to sink into a warm bed, but Loriel hadn’t been there. She’d been in the Warden-Commander’s study, her eyes drooping over a scattered bunch of parchments.

Loriel placed her knuckles on her cheek, blinking slowly.

“Alright,” said Yvanne. “I ran into Wynne.”

“Oh. How is she doing?”

“I don’t know. She’s fine. She’s going to some College of the Magi thing in Cumberland, or something.”

Loriel sat up straighter. “They’re convening? Over what?”

“I think the Libertarians are voting to secede from the Chantry. Something like that. Who cares! That’s not the important part.”

“It’s not? Then what’s the important part?” Loriel furrowed her brows. “I would think that an attempt to leave the Chantry would be extremely important.”

Yvanne didn’t seem to have heard her, pacing feverishly. “She said—well, all sorts of things—and she had this expression on her face, like—sure, other people looked at me like that, but Wynne didn’t used to. I hate her! Maker, even when I make an effort, it never matters.”

“But what did she say?”

When disaster strikes, not if—changed very little—selfish, impulsive—

“I don’t really remember,” Yvanne said. She ran out of steam and collapsed at the desk, burying her head in her hands. “It’s not important.”

“Okay,” Loriel agreed. “It’s not important.”

She felt Loriel’s hands on her weary shoulders. “So what is important?”

“What’s important is,” Yvanne said fiercely, “is that I love you.” She lifted her head to kiss her fully. She stood— selfish— she wrapped her arms around her, and she felt so easy and familiar and perfectly correct— what do you care about, I wonder?— Loriel made a hungry noise in the back of her throat,  and she fisted her hands in her hair, hoping somehow to kiss her hard enough to scrub the afternoon's events off her skin.

The door opened. They broke off.

Anders waved. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ve got something sort of important to tell you about.”

—

The three of them sat in the Warden-Commander’s office, on the floor in a loose circle. The door was locked, barred, spelled shut. Loriel had insisted.

“This could be big,” Yvanne said.

“It could be a big trap,” Loriel said. “Like when we went after Jowan’s phylactery. Remember that?”

“But that ended out alright, didn’t it?”

“All I’m saying is it’s an opportunity,” Anders said.

“Loriel,” Yvanne said, “they might have ours there, too. Anders said they moved the whole cache. If it really is still there…”

“I know. I know, Yvanne.” If she could get Yvanne’s phylactery, her own phylactery, that would be it. The last thread severed. Not total safety, never total, but much closer to it.

She bit her lip. “Maybe…maybe there’s another way. I could write to the Circle, as Warden-Commander. Demand the phylacteries for Warden business. I’m not sure if it’s legal, but it might be. I could look in the codes. Even if it’s not, I have influence…”

“And if they refuse?” Yvanne insisted. “It took the king’s authority to even get Anders recruited. Hell, both his and mine recruitments were carried out over loud objections. They’ll never let you have them.”

“If the Crown supports me, too, then—”

“You know he won’t.”

Loriel fell silent. She did know.

“Look,” said Anders, raising his hands, palms up, “forget I said anything. Don’t worry about it. I’m a big scary mage, you know. Just give me official, Commander-y leave, and I’ll go alone. Anything goes tits-up, it’ll be on me. But if we don’t do it now they might not be there tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not,” Loriel said at once. “I couldn’t possibly allow it.”

“What?” Yvanne said, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but also like it was exactly what she expected. “How can you say that? Loriel, if there’s any chance at all—”

“I mean,” Loriel said wearily, “I couldn’t possibly allow him to go alone.” Not so long ago, she would have said that she was doing this for Yvanne, only for Yvanne, and hang the rest of them. And it would have been true. She wished it still was.

She sighed. “No. We go together.”

"I—really? I mean, great!" A smile cracked across his face, bright and sunny and ridiculous. He swept them both up in a grateful hug, then hastily backing off, still smiling. She told him to come back around midnight, and off he went.

"Thank you," Yvanne told her later, so seriously, so earnestly, as though there were anything to be grateful for. As though Yvanne wouldn’t have gone with her friend, even if Loriel had attempted to forbid it. As though she was doing for just for her in the first place.

—

Her mistake was in not bringing anybody else.

She’d thought about it, very carefully. Oghren almost would have worked, even if that did mean subjecting Loriel to the journey to Amaranthine in the company of Yvanne, Anders, and Oghren all trading jests, trying to out-do each other in overt horribleness. That by itself would have been acceptable, but could the old warrior be trusted to keep quiet about this? She didn’t doubt his loyalty, but supposing he got drunk, and he was always drunk, and let something slip, and something got back to the wrong person, and the whole legitimacy of Loriel’s command fell to shambles as everyone together remembered what she was?

Velanna was a mage herself, and as much at risk as any of them. She couldn’t ask her. Nathaniel Howe, for all his posturing, would follow orders, she was sure of it. But he was a human nobleman, or he had been. He knew the Chant. She had no reason to believe he didn’t believe it was all true, all the parts about magic.  What would he think of his Commander, if he found out she was willing to defy the Chantry, to shake off that yoke? No, she couldn’t trust him.

She could have trusted Sigrun—what did casteless dwarves care for surface mores about magic?—but Loriel hated to put the Legionnaire in any danger, when she was so void-bent on throwing herself into it all of the time. Of all the new recruits, she liked her best. Grey Warden duties were one thing, but this desperate attempt on the phylacteries was base fear, pure vanity. She couldn’t justify it. She couldn’t ask a good woman to do this for her. Not even for all three of them.

And so foolishly, they had gone alone.

They’d expected guards. When there weren’t any, Loriel should have known to turn everyone around. But she hadn’t.

Because she’d wanted the damn phylacteries. For herself. For Yvanne, too, and for Anders, but also for herself. It frightened her, how much she wanted it. She shouldn’t have wanted it, not this much.

The door wasn’t even locked. It had been so obvious.

The warehouse was dark inside. Yvanne lit a spirit-light, casting the space in a greenish hue, though it did not quite reach the corners. The wisp hovered in place, keeping near Yvanne like a child to its mother.

Loriel was thrown back to the day after her Harrowing. How afraid she’d been, how horrified. Had she been afraid? She must have been…but when she thought back to that journey, she found that she could hardly remember it. Only a few snatches of speech, a few fragmented images. She had been outside herself, a prisoner within herself watching events unfold against her will.

But she was not a prisoner now. And she was beginning to remember…

Loriel gripped her staff and gestured them forward to the next room, where the phylacteries would be.

But the warehouse was empty. Of course it was.

A heavy door slammed shut behind them.

A mundane orange light joined the ghostly green. There were heavy booted footsteps, the clank of plate armor.

“Stop right there.”

Loriel stopped. She turned. She adopted a pleasant smile.

“Ser Rylock,” she said, not missing a beat. “Should you not return to your post at Kinloch? Surely they will be needing your help with the rebuilding.”

Rylock’s hawkish gaze pierced her, but only for a moment. She looked through her, not at her. Loriel was an afterthought. “Warden-Commander,” she said by way of greeting, and nobody could miss the sardonic note in the way she spoke the title. “How unfortunate it is to see you. There is some unpleasant business my men and I must complete.”

Anders said something flippant, something rude. Loriel ignored it. This would be delicate.

“If this has anything to do with one of my men,” she said evenly, “then I am afraid the position of the Crown is against you. These Wardens are entirely under my jurisdiction.”

“As though your jurisdiction could mean anything,” said Rylock, and she said it not unkindly. She said it as though it was a mere fact of life, that Loriel was perhaps too dim to fully grasp. “In this, Chantry law supersedes that of the Crown.”

Loriel opened her mouth to say something else, but Rylock was through with talking.

Two Templars against three mages. No fair contest at all.

The first Smite was enough. It boiled the lyrium in her veins, set it flaming and freezing at once.  Loriel had never experienced it before. She lost awareness of everything but her body, all the magic ripped out of it. If Yvanne screamed, she didn’t hear her. She did not remember falling, but her cheek ground against the dirt floor, her shoulders trembling, no air in her lungs.

And that was it. Total incapacitation. Even if Loriel could have moved or thought fast enough through the haze of breathless pain, she had no mana, and neither did Yvanne, neither did Anders—he was as good as dead, and there was no telling what would happen to Yvanne.

She struggled to cast a spell, any spell, but it was like drawing water from a stone. She was cut off from the Fade.

How easy it was for them, how almost thoughtless. Why even wear armor? Just for show? They didn’t need it. Loriel was the greatest entropy mage Kinloch had seen in generations, the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Commander, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, and all of that was so much debris in a ditch. Right now she was an uppity robe who’d gotten above herself, being put back in her place. What did it matter, Commander? What did it matter, Arlessa? She was still just a mage.

One of the Templars stepped closer to her, nudging her with the side of his sabaton. She couldn’t see his face, but he’d drawn his sword. The naked blade was within her reach.

She thought fast, and acted faster. She grasped the blade hard. It bit into her skin—pain shot through her, bright and blooming and wonderfully welcome. They’d cut her from the Fade, but not from herself, not from her own native power.

With a thought, the man’s blood was boiling in his veins. He jerked, his blade cutting deeper into Loriel’s hand—unfortunate, how unfortunate for him, now all three of them were in her control, now all three of them were boiling in their blood.

They did not even scream, for they had not the control over their bodies to produce a scream. They were frozen place, helpless.

She lay in the dirt for a moment, all her concentration bent upon maintaining the spell. She forced herself to sit, then stand.

They stood there, twitching. She could feel them struggling against her, but any move they made would only hurt them worse. If their faces were contorted in pain, it was hidden by their helmets. But they were still alive.

It would need a deeper cut, less clumsy this time. Now, with the Smite beginning to wear off, Loriel’s hands were steady. This time the blood flowed smoothly, drip drip dripping on the dirt. This time she would have power enough.

She extended a hand, and crushed it into a fist. Three hearts collapsed at once, then three metal-shod bodies hit the ground. She felt them die when her control relinquished.

The Wardens, the former wards, were alone in the warehouse.

They were safe.

Loriel turned woozily to her companions. Yvanne seemed to be alright, although for some reason she couldn't quite see her face clearly. She hadn't been thinking of at all of her—or Anders—a moment ago when she'd been helpless on the dirt floor. She made a note to feel guilty about it later, when she didn't feel quite so lightheaded.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she meant to say, but somehow it came out as “M’sor…seethe…”

The world seemed to spin chaotically. Somehow she was on the ground again, but this time someone’s arms were around her. They looked awfully blurry, but Loriel would know Yvanne’s touch anywhere.

“Oh, Maker, you’re so pale…can you hear me? Loriel, love? I don’t have any lyrium on me—fuck, that was so much blood…”

“Here, I’ve got some.” The other voice. A moment later, the cool-water feeling of a healing spell. She shuddered. Pure spirit magic always felt strange to her.

Loriel’s heart still beat against her ribs like a caged bird, but things didn’t seem so blurry now. “I’m alright,” she assured. “We…we’ve got to get out of here. Now.” She tried to struggle up, and couldn’t quite make it. Yvanne lifted her, looping an arm around her waist, her fingers digging into her side. The Smite must have still been affecting her. Normally she was easily strong enough to take Loriel’s entire weight.

“Wait. We can’t leave. What are we going to do with the bodies?” Yvanne said. “Anyone would be able to tell it was blood magic.”

“Leave them to rot and whistle innocently anytime we pass by some guards?” Anders suggested.

Loriel said, “I know a spell…”

“Don’t you dare!” Yvanne said. “You’re already—” But before she could finish Loriel was murmuring an incantation. The bodies disintegrated within seconds, leaving bleached skeletons lost in their armor. Then even the bones turned to dust. Rust ate the armor, and that too collapsed into a reddish dust. An unnatural indoor wind blew, and even the dust scattered. No evidence that anyone had ever lived and died in this room remained. Loriel hadn’t become the best student of entropy magic in a hundred years for nothing.

Anders looked like he might be sick. “Alright,” he said. “ Now let’s get out of here.”

They hobbled out into the cool night air.

Loriel didn’t make it far. She had to call a halt halfway out the city, for which Yvanne seemed grateful.

“So that was a wash,” said Anders.

Yvanne didn’t reply. Loriel was pressed against her chest.

“Got rid of Rylock,” Loriel managed. Not quite a complete sentence yet, but getting closer.

“Hah. That’s definitely true.” Anders was looking at her, his expression carefully guarded. He chuckled. “Well, how about that. Little Loriel Surana, a blood mage? Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it,” Yvanne said with artificial lightness. “You should hear about the old hermit we met in the Brecilian forest. Poet-trees weren’t the half of that place.  Ask Oghren, he’ll tell you.”

They chuckled, but weakly, and not for long.

“I’ll, uhm, check the perimeter, in case anyone…just in case. Yeah.” Anders gestured vaguely behind him with his thumb. “Rest up, Commander. I’ll be right back.”

She wanted to speak up and tell him not to go alone, that it could be dangerous, but somehow he seemed to move very fast. Or maybe she was being very slow. She let him go and let her eyes slide closed for a little while, listening to the steady beat of Yvanne’s heart.

“Yvanne, listen…”

“Yeah?” She brushed a sweaty piece of hair away from her forehead.

Loriel swallowed. “It…it was irresponsible of me to refuse to teach you blood magic. What happened at the warehouse—it can’t ever happen again. You should be able to defend yourself against a Templar, even if it means....oh, Maker, I feel so stupid. If you still want to learn, I’ll teach you, right away.”

“You aren’t stupid,” Yvanne said. “We’ll talk about this back at the Keep.”

Anders came back not long after that, suggesting they get out of the city. Loriel staggered up, leaning heavily on Yvanne, but managed to keep her footing. Anders gave her a reassuring grin and a thumbs-up.

It was then that Loriel managed to place that strange expression Anders had been wearing as he’d looked at her in the warehouse. It had been fear. Naked fear.

—

Loriel wrote to the Circle with a request. They responded. Loriel wrote to them again, and to Weisshaupt, and to Denerim, with ever more official-looking seals and signatures at the bottom of the parchment. They responded again. Loriel wrote back a third time, suggesting that she would pay a personal visit back to Kinloch—purely for personal reasons, of course, to see how the rebuilding was going, see some old friendly faces. And also to see if perhaps anybody else would like to be recruited into the Grey Wardens there, as she was after all the Warden-Commander, and retained the Rite of Conscription, and surely there would be many willing recruits among Kinloch’s survivors…

They sent her the phylacteries. Loriel agreeably cancelled her planned visit.

They came in a mahogany box, secured to the fabric padding with twine, lest they break. They were delivered by a Templar that Loriel didn’t recognize, who must have been new. She smiled pleasantly as he completed his delivery. He did not smile back, and forgot to salute her before departing.

She took the mahogany box to her office. Yvanne was already waiting. Anders turned up shortly after. Loriel locked the door, and barred it, and spelled it shut. Then she opened the box, and there they were. Three little glass vials, belonging to the mages of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, neatly labelled for the Commander’s convenience. Loriel took hers out, watching her own blood slosh around inside the crystal. Strange to see it still red and living, nearly fifteen years after they had taken it from her.

Then she handed Yvanne hers, and Anders his. She wondered if maybe she should have made a bigger deal of it. Lit some candles. Arranged for some chanting.

But no. It was just three mostly-grown mages, alone in a quiet room, bizarrely afraid to do something they’d dreamed of doing for years.

“On three, then?” Yvanne finally suggested.

“On three,” Loriel agreed.

They counted together. One. Two. Three.

All three phylacteries smashed on the stone floor. There was hardly any blood at all, between the three of them. I’ll have to clean this up, Loriel thought. The glass was easy, but blood would stain the old stones. But then, she was a blood mage now, wasn’t she? It ought to be easy for her.

Maybe she’d just cover the stain with a new rug.

“That’s that, then,” Anders said with relief. “It’s really over.”

“Yep,” said Yvanne, popping the ‘p.’

“Makes me feel rather silly about the whole bit with the warehouse, really.”

“Don’t,” said Loriel. “The important thing is it’s over.”

They kept staring at the bloodstain. Loriel reached out to take Yvanne’s hand. She grasped back fiercely, and her other hand came up to squeeze Anders’ shoulder. They stayed like that for a while.

Then Anders shook Yvanne off. “Well,” he said, “I’m off towards the rest of my life, I suppose. I’ll see you two at dinner.”

And it was just the two of them.

Yvanne drew Loriel close, but it was not as lovers drew each other close. She drew her close as a child draws her friend close in the dark, when one of them has awoken from a nightmare and is not yet quite convinced it was only a dream.

“That’s it, then,” Yvanne said into her hair.

“That’s it,” Loriel murmured against her collarbone.

They stood like that for a long time, until Yvanne whispered, “What are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to live our lives,” said Loriel, and the future opened wide, yawning and expansive, sure to swallow her whole.

The bloodstain never did come out of the flagstones.