#i can't make this decision it's killing me

[puc-puggy]

i’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately. the nature and the shape of it. how it sometimes protects and sometimes destroys and how often protection and destruction are the same thing and what it takes to make that happen less. about how easily fear leads to violence and violence as communication, something used to shape future interactions. about how some violence communicates "obey or else" and other violence communicates "I choose else." about what it means to give no response. about how genocide and murder are uncommunicative violence, not meant to shape a future interaction but to completely prevent them. about domination and vulnerability paradoxes and about how so many are unable to tell the difference between a domination vulnerability paradox and simple, plain vulnerability and how much that terrifies me when kin so far away chose else and were denied their justice. denied their humanity. about how many now, here, in my home must choose else now and choose it decisively and won't, can't even imagine it.

about how she says "I kill it because it cannot stop me" and then says "I kill it because I am weaker than it." about whether the scorpion was even poisonous. i think about whether i am the human or the scorpion.

Jo Shapcott, Of Mutability

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

PLEASE write some stevepop where soda sees steve maybe defending or secretly being kind to ponyboy!

i love steve and ponyboys friendship

AGHH the scream I screamt when I got this request ABSOLUTELY! Adore these boys I am HAPPY to provide! fic under the cut!

"Ponyboy get your ass out here or I'm leavin' you!" Steve slams on the horn 'n Darry appears in the kitchen window to shake his head firmly. Ah, it was seven thirty in the mornin'. Steve had forgotten. Pony ducks past the open screen door to flip him off 'n Steve has to fight the urge to throw the door open 'n drag the kid out by his hair.

"I'm gonna kill that kid. I swear to God." Steve hmphs, kicks a foot on the dash.

Soda leans through the rolled down window 'n chuckles to himself. "Glory, Steve, ain't there bigger things in the world to be mad at? The injustices 'n all are a tad more serious then a bitchy kid brother, dig?" Soda snorts 'n Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well, the injustices aren't about to make me fuckin' late!" Steve hollers 'n Pony makes an indignant noise from somewhere in the house. Soda cracks up. "You comin' to school today?"

Soda tilts his head to the side, opens his mouth but before he can say anythin' Darry cuts in from the porch, "He better be takin' his lil' ass or I'm gonna bust it." Soda hoots a laugh 'n wiggles his hips from where he's bent down to talk to Steve from outside the car.

"Well, I think the decision's been made for the safety of both me 'n my ass." Darry rolls his eyes, grabs Soda by the back of the shirt 'n hoists him up, plantin' a kiss to the top of his ruthlessly messy waves. He releases him 'n turns to climb into his truck.

He's halfway in when he stops 'n turns. "Pony come out yet?"

"Fuckin' no-" The screen door slams 'n Pony leaps off the stairs, hair ungreased 'n curlin' around his eyes, backpack slung over one shoulder 'n unzipped, a piece of burnt toast bit between his teeth.

He skids to a stop to let Darry drop a kiss to his temple 'n then whack him one up the back of his head. He whines wordlessly, mostly 'cause if he tried to speak he'd lose his breakfast, 'n rips open the back door to Steve's beater, crawlin' into the back seat.

"If you get crumbs in my car I'm gonna kick your ass." Steve twists around 'n Pony takes his toast from his mouth just to stick his tongue out.

Soda takes one good leap 'n slides across the roof of the beater to get to the passenger side, slammin' the door shut 'n kickin' his feet up on the dash. He idly flips the radio station until Jimmy Gilmer and The Fireballs Sugar Shack starts playin' 'n he grins 'n cranks the volume.

Pony groans 'n leans over the seat to change it 'n Steve puts an elbow up 'n shoves him back into his seat. "Shotgun picks the music 'n last time I checked you weren't even in the front, brat."

Pony narrows his eyes, scowls, 'n breaks off the crumbliest end of the bread, grindin' it into Steve's carpet where he can't see. "You don't even like this song!"

Soda twists around, throws a hand out the window, grins with his whole mouth. "Nuh uh, Pone. This is Stevie's favorite song. Know why?" Pony stops scowlin' just long enough to look confused.

"Why?"

"'Cause it's mine 'n Steve loves to please- OW!" Steve howls 'n jabs Soda in the ribs. Soda jumps, whoops 'n scrambles to the side to avoid Steve's fingers. Pony groans theatrically 'n drops his head to the window.

A horn blares 'n all three of them look up 'n realize their still blockin' Darry in the driveway. Darry leans out the window with an exasperated sigh, "Steven Thomas, I thought you were so worried about bein' late!"

...

Steve rolls into the parkin' lot goin' so fast he nearly spins out, throwin' the car into the first empty spot he finds. The clock on the dash reads seven fifty- already twenty minutes late.

"Pony move your ass." Steve snatches the keys from the ignition, spinnin' to grab his bag from the back. Pony flips him off again but wiggles out, draggin' his stuff across the seat. Soda jumps out, not even a pencil on his person.

Once they're out of the car, however, none of them hustle across the lot. It was the principle. You couldn't look too eager headed into a school buildin'. They had a rep to protect.

"C'mon." Soda leans around the corner when they get to the top of the steps, watchin' for the lady at the front to turn her back. "Pony go." Pony skids through the door, squats down low under the desk 'n tries to slip by.

So, of course, the woman takes that exact moment to look up.

"Excuse me, young man, you're late. Do you have a note or a parent with you?" Pony freezes like a deer in the headlights 'n both Soda 'n Steve groan.

"Uh-"

"Sorry, Mrs. Baker." Steve doesn't stop to think, just hoists his bag up on his shoulder 'n strolls over to grab Pony by the shoulder. "I gave him a ride today. Him 'n Soda. Sodapop Curtis, that is." He turns around to jerk his head at Soda. Pony looks back at him, frown lines of confusion knittin' between his brow.

"Ok." The woman folds long fingers together 'n looks at him expectantly. "Do you have a note?'

"Naw, I'm just sayin' it ain't their faults. I was-" He grits his teeth together, digs his fingers into Pony's shoulder, "runnin' a little late today. My fault. Traffic was a real bit- uh mess." He offers his best charmin' smile 'n wishes he had Soda's stupid big eyes 'n innocent long lashes that could let him blink his way outta anythin'. Maybe he shoulda thrown Soda under the bus. She raises one thin eyebrow but sighs.

"Well, alright then. I'll write them passes. You, however, will have to get a mark on your record." Steve does his best to look apologetic, waits 'til she turns, 'n flips her off. Soda snorts 'n tries to, poorly, hide it behind a cough. The woman glances over her shoulder 'n Soda lets his dimple show.

He definitely should have let him take the fall.

She tears two slips off a pad 'n hands them across to Pony 'n Soda. Soda shoots him a little apologetic grin 'n Pony begrudgingly mutters his thanks. Steve flicks him in the forehead 'n before Pony can open his mouth 'n say somethin' smart, Soda grabs him 'n pulls him along.

"Name?" Steve frowns, watches as Soda 'n Pony horse around, splittin' at the end of the hall to go to their respective classes. Steve has a sudden pit in his stomach.

"Huh?"

"Your name, hon?"

"Sorry, uh, Randle. Steve." She makes quick work of the papers, handin' Steve over his own pass.

"Alright, Mr.Randle," Steve cringes internally but doesn't let it show, "get to class, now. 'N don't let me see you again, today."

...

Steve's supposed to be skippin' third period with Soda but the knucklehead hadn't shown where they had agreed. Steve had hung around the bleachers for as long as he dared before sighin', concedin' he wasn't gonna show.

He pushes off the rail he'd been leanin' on, debatin' his options. He could head straight out to the beater 'n call the day a wash, come back for Soda 'n Pony when school let out. But Pony, the little shit, was just as likely to tattle as he was to keep it to himself. Plus he was supposed to have fourth with Soda, assumin' he showed.

He hesitates a moment more, hedges his bets, 'n figures he might as well just head to class 'n beg off bein' late. His English teacher was a real doll, she might even turn a blind eye.

He slips the back door open 'n ducks his head through, lettin' his eyes adjust. The hall's deserted, though he can hear some kinda ruckus bein' kicked up somewhere nearby. Some real brawl by the sounds of it.

He creeps the rest of the way in, easin' the door shut. Steve turns the opposite way as the noise, figurin' they were bound to get busted 'n if he was anywhere nearby so would he. He's just creakin' the door to the stairs open, idly listenin' when he catches somethin' that makes his pulse rocket up.

"How do you like that, huh, Curtis?" Steve doesn't even bother to catch the slam the door makes as it shuts. He's movin' before he can think, down in the direction of the voice. Someone groans 'n Steve picks up the pace.

The voices sound too young to be Steve 'n Soda's age. Which really only left-

Steve rounds the corner fast, slidin' a little on the tile 'n the scene he comes up on has him clenchin' his fists so hard half moons carve into his palms. Oh, Jesus.

Here's the thing. Pony ain't half bad in a scrap. Somethin' about growin' up with two brothers 'n a house full of boys made you either sink or swim when it came to gettin' pounded. 'N maybe the boys currently beatin' the ever-lovin' hell outta the kid knew that. Considerin' it was five on one 'n Pony was still on his feet.

Steve doesn't hesitate. One of 'em has Pony's arms pinned behind his back, Pony writhin' 'n strugglin' for all he's worth, 'n another is sluggin' the hell out of him. Landin' sloppy, wide punches along the kid's ribs.

Pony groans at each one but nothin' more. God, maybe the kid was tougher than Steve gave him credit for. When he wasn't bein' a baby.

"Hey, asshole." Steve catches the wrist of the kid sluggin' Pony 'n for a second both of them just blink at Steve in surprise. "Leave my fuckin' kid brother alone, yeah?" Then Steve cracks his fist across the kid's face 'n he goes down, hard.

Pony wriggles out, immediately turns to swing on the boy behind him. Steve catches his shoulder, gives him a hard shove. "Beat it."

Pony freezes, chest heavin', blood tricklin' down his temple that makes Steve want to put whoever did that's head through a goddamn wall. "No!"

One of the others steps up, lands a punch under Steve's elbow 'n Steve jams his palm into the kid's nose. "I'm not havin' a fuckin' conversation go." Pony scowls 'n a kid goes to sock him one. Steve grabs him by the shirt front, easily sends him careenin' into the wall.

"Fine." Pony hesitates a moment more 'n Steve gives him another push. He whips around 'n vanishes down the hall 'n around the corner.

Steve's losin' track of who's who 'n where's what, throwin' punches 'n easily manhandlin' the younger boys steadily backward. "Look at the baby run!" Steve's vision goes red 'n he grabs the boy by the hair 'n slams his head into the goddamn lockers. Tears instantly spring to his eyes 'n Steve yanks him close.

"What are you gonna do? Cry?" He throws him down 'n the kid crawls back 'n away from him, runnin' a hand over his face.

Before he can go for him again, someone's got a hand around his wrist, jerkin' him backward. Fully on instinct, he swings around to slug them one before he realizes its a teacher.

He shakes his head to clear it, bares his teeth at the group of kids now clustered together. The fight's over now 'n it's fuckin' clear who won. But Steve can't help but dig his heels in 'n lean toward them again.

"If I ever hear about you goddamn punks layin' another finger on Ponyboy, you're not gonna be able to walk your pantywaist asses home to your mama's. Got it?"

The last thing he sees before he's dragged off to, presumably, the office, is the blood drain from their faces 'n the flash of a familiar form duckin' through the crowd.

...

Steve rubs a hand idly over his achin' knuckles 'n sighs. He was acutely familiar with the view from the hall outside the office. He'd spent enough hours there they should probably put his name on a seat permanently.

He can hear the Principal as he calls Darry, hell it's quiet enough he can hear Darry's irritation from behind the shut door. Steve sighs again, picks at his cuticles. There was a good chance Darry wouldn't be mad about this, considerin' the circumstances, but he'd be spittin' nails about it until he could get him the full story. 'N he wasn't particularly lookin' forward to it.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Randle." Steve jars 'n whips his head up, but it's just Soda. He plops down in the chair beside him, sprawlin' his legs out in front of him.

"Yeah, real rare sight." Steve scoffs, dryly.

"Heard you got into some fight, huh?" And here's the thing. Maybe, maybe, Steve gave a shit about the goddamn brat that was Ponyboy Michael Curtis. But he had no interest in admittin' that. Hell, he wouldn't even be tellin' Darry if he thought he could get around bein' whooped without it. So he's not real interested in tellin' Soda. No matter how stupid it probably sounds.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that." Soda rolls his eyes, produces a folded paper frog from somewhere 'n flicks it at the wall.

"Man, aren't you just Michelangelo this afternoon." Steve shoots him a confused look from the side of his eye 'n Soda huffs. "Full of words."

"You mean like, Alan Ginsberg or somethin'."

"I'll call ya Romeo if it means you spill what happened." Soda blinks his stupid big eyes at him 'n Steve feels his ears go red.

"Nothin' happened. Just a lil' scrap. Some assholes said the wrong thing 'n so I beat their asses. End of story. Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart." Steve ribs him back 'n Soda just giggles, the bastard.

"Yeah, didn't take you for a child beater, though." Soda cackles to himself 'n Steve shoves him hard in the shoulder. "I heard they were Pony's age." Somethin' in Soda's sharp eyes gives Steve the impression he knows more than he's lettin' on.

"Yeah, what about it? Do I need an age limit on lettin' someone be a dick?"

"Nah, I'm just sayin'. You know. Kids can be cruel. To each other." Steve narrows his eyes 'n Soda just grins. "All I'm sayin' is I saw Pony. 'N I was wonderin' if you had." Steve opens his mouth to answer 'n the door bangs open, the principal takin' a long stride out into the hall.

"Steven Randle?" He catches one look at Soda 'n his shoulders drop a little lower. Soda just beams at him. "Sodapop Curtis, what are you in my hall for?"

"Well, no reason. But now that we're all here I figure you'll wanna send me to the office for skippin'. Say, think you can get ol' Dar back on the phone or d'ya think twice in one day is excessive?"

...

Darry couldn't get off for the remainder of the day so the principal elected to let him stay in the office for the final period. Fourty-five minutes had never felt so long.

Steve was nearly tearin' his hair out by the final bell. He jumps up immediately, swingin' his bag over his shoulder 'n jettin' out to the parkin' lot. Pony's already there, leanin' against the car, dejectedly.

"Hey, Pone. You ok?" Steve goes to push his bangs back from the spot on his temple that had been bleedin' 'n Pony bats his hand angrily away. "Jesus, kid, what's the problem?"

"I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it." Steve feels a hot rush of anger slips through his veins 'n he clenches his fists.

"Fine. Whatever, kid. Get in the fuckin' car." He unlocks the door 'n Pony practically throws himself into the back seat with a huff.

Ohh, he was never goin' down for that kid ever again.

Soda comes bouncin' across the lot just as Steve's lightin' a kool, nearly snappin' the match in two with short, angry movements. "Well, hey good lookin'." Soda shoots him a questionin' look 'n Steve waves a hand dismissively.

"Hey, Pep. C'mon, let's go." He ducks into the driver's seat 'n Soda climbs into the shot gun. He twists to look at Pony, the backseat clouded up with Pony's own smoke.

"Hey, Pone, how was your day?" Pony scowls 'n shoots daggers at the back of Steve's head.

"Why don'cha ask him." Soda cranks the window down 'n sticks his head out.

"Well, glory, aren't the two of you just a blast."

...

Soda's got a shift down at the DX, a rare one Steve's not on. Though, he's got an inklin' that's on purpose. They had a habit of havin' too good of a time when they got shifts together. Though, it never stopped the one not workin' from boppin' on down to bug the other, work or no.

Steve floors it so he has time to take the back roads with the farms. Soda always loved to see the horses out in the field 'n Steve had no problem obligin' him. Usually, he would hit the hills goin' fast enough to make your stomach flip just so Pone could stick his stupid head out 'n whoop but he's sulkin' too hard to notice.

Whatever. Soda still points out each 'n every horse 'n that's good enough for Steve.

When they pull up to the DX Soda jumps out before the cars even come to a stop 'n Pony tries to slip out behind him. Steve slams a hand down on the lock 'n so Pony's just yankin' on the handle.

"C'mon Steve. Let me the hell out." Steve resolutely pretends he doesn't see him.

"See ya, Soda. D'ya want a ride home later?" Soda leans through the window again 'n snatches his DX shirt from the seat.

"Sure, Stevie." He raises his eyebrows 'n jerks his head at Pony, not subtly at all. "Assumin' you two haven't killed each other by this afternoon."

"I dunno. This afternoon ain't a lot of time to work with. Maybe tonight?" Pony scowls 'n Steve makes a face at him in the rearview mirror.

"Alright, you two. I'll catcha on the flip." Soda winks at Pony through the back window 'n Pony stops lookin' like the most put-out kid in the world to grin back at him. The second Soda's turned around Pony sinks back into his seat 'n goes back to poutin'. Good God.

Steve waits for the DX door to close behind Soda, 'n then he floors it again. "Where are we goin'?" Pony's sunk so low Steve has to stretch to see him in the mirror.

"Home, dumbass. You got some shit to say. Clearly." Pony hmphs but falls silent.

Darry's trucks not in the driveway when they pull up, to be expected. Pony snatches his stuff off the seat 'n marches inside without a word, slammin' the car door behind him. Steve has to force himself to take a long, slow breath to keep himself from finishin' the job those goddamn kids had started 'n cavin' in Pony's skull.

Glory, Darry must be wearin' off on him.

After a moment, he pulls the keys out of the ignition 'n trudges into the house behind Pony. When he gets through the front door, Ponyboy's already standin' in the livin' room, spine pulled taught, jaw all set like he's bracin' for a fight.

Steve has to fight the urge not to scoff at him. He's got a bandaid over his temple 'n bruises along his ribs that make him huff every time he moves 'n he thinks Steve is gonna square up with him. God. The kid was smart but he was also incredibly stupid sometimes.

"Well, c'mon. Out with it. What's with the attitude?" Pony bristles 'n scowls, clenchin' his fists up at his sides.

"I don't have a goddamn attitude."

"Yeah," Steve rolls his eyes 'n Pony makes a low, angry noise in the back of his throat. "Sure. None at all."

"Why can't you ever mind your own fuckin' business, Steve?"

"You are my business you fuckin' idiot." Steve can feel himself gettin' pissed off, he's clingin' to his patience by his fuckin' fingernails. "So this is what I get for stoppin' some assholes for stompin' you into the curb?"

"They weren't!" Pony explodes, stamps his foot so hard into the carpet the picture frames quake. "This may surprise you, Steve, but I can handle myself. I don't need you treatin' me like a goddamn kid."

For a moment, all Steve can do is blink at him. Then he feels the last shred of understandin' slip straight out of his head. "Pony are you stupid? You know what? Sure. You can handle yourself. Handle yourself so well you end up with a busted eye 'n a broken rib you idiot-"

"It wasn't that ba-"

"Sure!" Steve throws his hands up in exasperation. "It wasn't that bad. But it was about to be! Since when do you not want backup in a fight?"

"It's not that!" Pony's red in the face now, hair floppin' down in his eyes, knuckles white.

"So what the hell is-" Oh. Oh, alright. "Is this 'cause I didn't let you stay?"

Pony's wicked glare tells him all he needs to know. Glory God almighty.

"Pony. Look. I know you're smart. Give me one good reason why I wouldn't want you to stick around." Holy fuck, Darry really had been rubbin' off on him. He gives an involuntary shake.

"Because you're an asshole." And you know what? Darry was a fuckin' saint for not stranglin' the kid years ago.

"Yeah. A huge asshole who was coverin' for your ass. Pony think. If you had been there when that fight was busted up how the fuck do you think Darry would have reacted?"

Pony bites down hard on his lip. "I-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't start it. But you couldn't have gotten into it at all if you had been in class. Y'know. Where you were meant to be."

"I was just-"

"Yeah. Sure. Save the I was just goin' to the bathroom, I was just gettin' some water, I, I, I for Darry. You were skippin'."

For a moment, Pony just glares at him. "And you were just playin' hall monitor, right?" Pony mutters, but he doesn't sound mad anymore.

"Yeah, kid. Someone's gotta do a tour to make sure someone's not beatin' your head in." Pony rolls his eyes but Steve just grabs him by his shoulder 'n pulls him in. "Look. I know you can handle yourself, man. You don't need me or Soda or Darry intervenin' for your ass. But just humor me, alright? Im tryin' save us both some grief from the big man."

Pony scuffs his toe in the carpet, runs a hand up the back of his neck. "Yeah. Alright. Deal. But you can't tell Darry I was skippin'."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Tell you what. If you keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

Pony narrows his eyes, hesitates, 'n then drops his head against Steve's shoulder. "Deal."

...

"Stevie! Pony? Any bodies need to be buried?" Soda bounds in, screen door flappin' closed. He sticks his head into the dark living room.

Pony 'n Steve are curled up on the couch, Pony's head in Steve's lap, Steve absently rakin' a hand through Pony's dark hair. The second Soda appears, Steve jars Pony so hard he slides right off the couch 'n onto the floor with an indignant wail.

"Well, hello, you two." Darry follows Soda inside, droppin' his keys on the table with a heavy sigh.

"Soda! What are you doin' home?"

"Darry picked me up." Soda wiggles his eyebrows at Steve 'n Steve hurls a throw pillow at his head.

"Speak of the devil." Darry crosses into the living room, fixes Steve with a stern look. He glances down at Pony, double takes the bandaid, the way he's rubbin' at his ribs. Looks back at Steve's raw knuckles.

"Y'all got somethin' to say? I got a call about a fight." Pony twists to look up at Steve 'n Steve shoots him a little grin.

"Yeah. You know me, Dar. Can't keep me outta trouble." Darry puts a hand on his hip, looks between the two of them, his face softenin'.

"I do." He rolls his eyes 'n turns towards the kitchen. "Glory, I do."

Pony 'n Steve shoot each other a look, bite back on a laugh. "C'mon, you brat. I'm cold. Get up on this couch." Pony kicks him hard in the shin but clambers back up, leanin' his weight on Steve's shoulder 'n fixin' his eyes on the TV.

When Steve looks up again, Soda's watchin' him with a sly little grin. "Hey, Stevie?" He plops down on his other side, yankin' one of the blankets from the back of the sofa. "Pony should make us late more often. It sure puts you in a real sweet mood."

[jane-d-ankh-veos]

Some people aggressively tried to convince me that it's 100% canon that the Hexcore has its own malicious will and fully controls Viktor, and, well... usually I'm only glad when there is a wide variety of theories – I love exploring them and can peacefully ignore those I don't agree with – but I really can't stand this kind of arguing. Leave others some freedom to have their own interpretations, please...

So, why persuading me into adopting this one is a waste of time and effort: I don't like that it deprives him of responsibility and meaningfulness of personally taking it. The mage admitted that he had chosen a wrong way and attempted to set it right, and this is such an admirable rare strength. It's an important part of his character: staying true to his "in the pursuit of great, we failed to do good" and desires to lessen humanity's suffering, his intentions were always for the best, so he is able to consciously renounce evil when he sees that the consequences betray his ethics. This requires immence willpower and intelligence. His own. He isn't simply cleaning up some unruly magical orb's mess after being its puppet, he acts like a complex personality.

(Just imagine, for example, how boring BG3 would be if instead of its interesting vivid characters all the communication/flirting/teamwork was in fact happening only between their illithid tadpoles...)

Even the original Machine Herald, despite being devoted to the Glorious Evolution for a longer time and certainly not going to abandon it, is also capable of genuine self-introspection and honest abidance by what he thinks is right. (My precious ironclad cinnamon roll ❤️)

As for the argument that the Hexcore recoiled from him in S1 like a living creature, even our own world's nature has a lot of things that can react to a potential threat without necessarily having sentience. Some of them can even learn and distinguish:

What I could somewhat accept is the version that the Hexcore was given life by his blood. If its alleged independent mind is a direct creation and part of Viktor himself, then at least it's more logical than appearing from nowhere (or from the Void that is almost a whole continent away and would have already destroyed Piltover and Zaun long before these experiments if it was somehow involved), has actual on-screen basis and doesn't take away his responsibility so entirely.

Anyway, even after their fusion, there are so many scenes clearly showing that it's still this same Viktor who speaks, watches and makes decisions:

Or his monologue at the end of S2's sixth episode. The character himself explains his reasons, that's why I don't get those saying that there were none so the eldritch influence can be the only possible explanation.

Speaking of which, I do get his logic in some of my own personal ways. The heavy burden of empathy... The constant frustration... The feeling that only some near-impossible universal change would be able to make things better because life is so fundamentally injust and so tragically vulnerable to evil/violence/illness/death/pain... But this would require a whole another post, I'm afraid, and would be highly subjective.

What I see as actual villainizing influence is his own despair. First he had already been about to take his life, then he was horribly killed within an arm's reach of achieving a better future for Zaun, then his hopeful commune was destroyed, a close friend/lover shot him, etc... Anyone in his place would run out of patience to act rationally and nicely, so I understand and forgive him wholeheartedly.

[thegildedbee]

{S1/S2} & {S3/S4} Fics: [Questions] .......................................................................

[well, instead of a few thoughts about the "whys" for the Parentlock fic recs that were the point of starting this post, and then a list of and comments about the recs, this turned into a longer meta -- which, we don't really do meta any more, do we, except in passing? fwiw, then, a throwback post, I guess?]

........................................................................................................... I've been thinking some about differences in Sherlockian fic treatments, when comparing the S1/S2 period to the S3/S4 period - in general, this means 2014 as a dividing line, although that's not a hard-and-fast cut-off point: for example, there were fics that were conceptualized or well-along-the-wip-road prior to S3 that carried on from within the earlier canon-space even if they were completed a year or so later; and there were fic authors who were publishing circa 2015 who had shrugged off S3 when it was being aired, and couldn't have cared less about post-S3 [often disputatious] meta discussions/ speculations.* So, by my figuring, 2014-2015 is a transitional phase, with my guess being that it would be late in 2015 when fics written by authors engaging with S3 canon began merging into a critical mass, creating a second, S1/2/3-transformed foundational reference point for many fics going forward -- and, the later in time one ventures, the reference point for most fics.

It's not that I've been wondering/pondering about the differences because I think pre- or post-S3 fics are better or worse -- to say the least :-) I feel positively about fic from both time periods! It's partly curiosity about the writing of fic in the two different creative contexts: in the "before time" or the "after time" of BBCS' post-Reichenbach canon decisions. And it's also partly curiosity about the differences in length that now exist for the two periods: about 4 years for pre-S3 fic -- which will always remain so, along with the amount of fic it contains [minus deletions and disappearances of specific fic] -- and going on 11 years now (and always stretching further, with increasing content) for post-S3 fic.

I think that one impulse prompting my curiosity is the fact that, realistically, at this point in time [the start of 2025] new canon is unlikely to appear. When BBCS was still in motion as an evolving source for its own canon (in actuality and in potentia), fics were brought to life within a contingent canonical landscape (whether authors were adapting to it or subverting it or anticipating it or transforming it or appropriating it or moving at tangents to it). Of course, the canonical landscape was rendered static when BBCS pulled over to the side of the motorway and killed the engine.

What I'm not saying is that fic is in stasis -- it can't ever be, for lots of reasons! One reason is that, as time passes, the world changes, and we change, and what we see when we look at traditional canon changes . . . and so the fandom dynamic of fic evolution continues :-) A second reason is that new people come along to write fic and to comment on fic, and to meta about fic, and their contributions augment and reshape the cumulative corpus . . . and so the fandom dynamic of fic evolution continues :-) A third reason is that, through our encounters with other imaginative realms, old and new (novels and films and series and other enthusiasms) and then with each other, there's a continuous glamouring that shimmers the atmosphere . . . and so (say it again :-) the fandom dynamic of fic evolution continues :-) Even so, I've been a bit wistful these days about experiencing Sherlockian canon-in-the-making . . . which is maybe what's prompted me (?) to return to the ur-source, which, because it's been so long since I've visited there, can conjure up that kind of magic :-) And so I've been doing some weekly mini-wanderings through ACD canon, and reading between the lines in a kind of what's-old-is-new-again-familiar-unfamiliarity that's been rewarding :-) But more on point for this post (ha! if you've read this far you've been wondering, is there a point? . . . ) is a sense I have that re-visiting S1/S2 fic is another way of accessing a bit of a present-day sense of canon-in-the-making, because it is far enough in the past now, and because of the post-S3's-interpolated-foundation-for-fic has itself extended outward so far, that pre-S3 fic can be visited in a what's-old-is-new-again kind of way.

Okay, enough with all the preliminaries! All that being said: So, what's an example? Here's one I've come back to many times: One major shift is in fics where Sherlock is a parent, or is interacting with a child of John's, because pre-S3 means pre-Mary [at least the "Mary the (former?) assassin" of BBC Sherlock] and pre-"Rosie." [It is the case that some pre-S3 authors have a "Mary," but it's a version that's drawn from ACD canon, and, as such, is usually a much more understated presence; re kids from ACD canon, that's a null consideration.]

There are an overwhelming number of post-S3 fics where Sherlock-with-a-child means Sherlock&John-and-Mary's-Rosie under various scenarios. And while there are lots of different Rosie personalities, Rosie plots, and Sherlockian encounters with Rosie, a majority (or very nearly all?) post-S3 Parentlock fics share in this background rationale (more or less, to be sure) even as they play out from there in a gazillion different inventive ways. Pre-S3 Parentlock fics don't have that raison d'etre, of course, and the child characters and plotting that feature in the S1/S2 period have a generally wilder set of imaginings, and their S1/S2 fic Sherlocks have a balance of characteristics that have some subtle differences that I've always found intriguing, and keep coming back to (this can hold for Johns as well, although the emphasis is more pronounced with Sherlocks). Being pulled back into pre-S3 fic and re-visiting it through categories like Parentlock has been another way that I've experienced a kind of anticipatory canon-in-the-making . . . ambience? aesthetic? aura? which I've found to be intriguing. I'm not sure that looking backwards has much appeal for others -- maybe (?) In any case, I guess I thought I'd try and puzzle it out for myself by writing it down and not just having it float about in wisps in my mind palace :-)

Well, hey now, as this is an epic amount of wandering about, I think it's time to come to a rather inelegant galumphing of an endpoint! Writing up the fic recs will have to maybe happen somewhere down the road...

(For anyone who has wandered along this far as well: if you have any thoughts you'd like to share about S1/S2 and S3/S4 fic partitioning, or [the futility of?] attempts to re-surface a canon-in-the-making-vibe -- feel free to add them in! If so, borrowing these would allow this post a much more inspiriting way to finish :-)

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

*(. . . and of course there were a significant number of authors who left the fandom after S3 -- but that's a fic trend reflection for another day :-)

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

@calaisreno  @totallysilvergirl  @friday411  @peanitbear  @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels  @a-victorian-girl  @keirgreeneyes  @starrla89  @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely  @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at  @jobooksncoffee  @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat  @bluebellofbakerstreet  @dragonnan  @safedistancefrombeingsmart  @jolieblack

@msladysmith  @ninasnakie  @riversong912  @dapetty .............................................................................................

[yanderes-galore]

Eren Yeager with prompts 1, 6, and 46, please!

The plot may be Eren fighting with his Darling one last time about his decision about the Rumbling. He promises he'll be back with them once he finishes what needs to be done and an argument starts between them where the already unhappy Darling tries to knock the last bit of sense into him before Eren goes off to finish what he's started. I'll leave the rest to you, thank you! :)

I think I've seen enough of Season 4 to write this? Let's see how this goes.

Yandere! Eren Yeager Prompts 1, 6, 46

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you."

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved! Don't you agree?"

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Mass murder implied, Isolation/Imprisonment implied, Forced kiss, Dubious relationship.

"There has to be another way, you can't be serious, Eren!" You plead to the man in front of you, watching as he leans against the wall on the far end of the room.

"Why do you have so much sympathy for them?" Eren states coldly, tone even with not much emotion. "They're sending people to kill us on this island... I'm doing what's best for us."

The Rumbling had been an idea tossed around for a while now. It had been talked about along with the Founding Titan for various reasons. You thought Eren would simply go along with making Eldians infertile with Zeke...

Yet it seems he's decided to go with the more destructive option.

"It's not right..." You try to argue but Eren, your boyfriend, shushes you with an unamused look.

"This isn't about what's right. They don't care about the Eldians." Eren continues, stepping closer. "Did you forget about how much our friends mean to me... how much you mean to me?"

You feel the man in front of you cup your cheeks, cold blue eyes staring into your own. You freeze when he touches you but reluctantly melt into it. It's been a while since you've had such affection...

Mostly because your relationship with Eren has been rocky the last four years.

"I'm mostly doing this for you, know that?" Eren whispers, breath ghosting over your face. "I want to make this place somewhere safe for us. I don't plan on coming back to you until I achieve that."

"Eren, please, Zeke's plan—" Eren's grip suddenly tightens.

"I don't care what Zeke thinks... You shouldn't either. All you need to know is I'm doing this for you... No one can hurt you if I do this. You and I can finally be happy, know that?"

You feel Eren let go only to pull you into a hug. You struggle, still uncomfortable with the idea of your boyfriend committing mass murder. You still want to think there's ways to make peace with Marley without wiping them out....

Eren could care less about them... not when he has someone like you to care for and keep to himself.

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you." Eren admits, whispering gently into your neck as he holds you close. You can tell he's manipulating you. After all... He hasn't been this affectionate in weeks since going to Marley. "You're all that matters to me. You always have been."

"Eren... Please just listen... The others are coming up with ideas, I'm sure of it. I can't go along with this...!" You continue to plead, but Eren merely pulls back to look at you in the eyes again.

You can see disappointment and irritation there.

"... I'd kill for you." Eren admits, holding you tight. "In fact, I already have. I've dedicated myself to you so much that no one else matters anymore."

Eren tilts your chin up, his other arm firmly wrapped around your waist.

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved. Don't you agree?" Eren whispers, ghosting over your lips as though he wants to kiss you. "Can't you see I love you? That you're my motivation... That I'd be willing to destroy this world for you just to give you a happy ending?"

Eren's words made you push against him. He acted like The Rumbling was going to be some romantic gesture to you. He acted like killing millions to 'protect' you was right because you're the only thing that matters to him.

He was too far gone, he probably already was after the Titans were dealt with...

You wonder if what he says is true... If he's really killed for you in the past... and if that even matters now considering what he's planning to do next.

"Get away from me—!" You bark, scrambling out of his hold. Eren watches you blankly, as if just observing what you plan to do next. You then glare in response.

"Eren, I can't do this anymore. I can't love you anymore!" You confess, briefly noticing the tension in Eren's body as he watches you. "You're a monster!"

"A monster?" Eren murmurs, you hate how he seems so casual. "I'm a monster to you?"

"Yes!" You cry, unsure how to sway him from his decision. You thought this would work... breaking it off should snap him out of it...

Yet of course, it didn't matter.

"Fine." Eren answers, stalking closer. "I'm a monster, I accept that."

You make a strangled noise when Eren pins you to the wall of the room. You claw at his wrist when he lightly squeezes your neck. It isn't tight... but it allows him to lean close.

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?" Eren whispers in your ear, keeping you stuck against him. "After all, I know you still love me. There's nowhere else to go, no one else who will dedicate themselves to you like me..."

Eren leans closer, a smug grin on his face.

"No one would level villages or continents just to keep you safe. You'd be miserable with anyone else but me. I'm all you have, I'm all that matters... The Rumbling will happen..." Eren continues, lips grazing against yours.

"... and I'll do it in your name." Eren then kisses you. You struggle against him but he prevents it from happening. By the time he pulls away you spit in his face...

He just laughs.

"Do me a favor and be good while I'm gone, alright?" Eren hums before letting you go. It's then Eren goes to walk away but you try to follow.

"Eren, no, don't do this...!" You cry, Eren ignores you.

"I'll have Mikasa and Armin watch you while I'm gone..." Eren replied, turning to look at you as he puts a hand on the door.

"You better have an apology ready for me when I come back, sweetheart."

It's then Eren shuts the door and you swear you hear it lock...

Leaving you with the knowledge, guilt, and regret that you couldn't stop Eren... along with the dread of what will happen when he's back....

[babygirlbdubs]

okay someone come bribe me one way or another for doc or skizz this is literally the hardest decision of my life

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

[grumpysunfish]

Can we like. Stop projecting modern day western class discussions into mdzs. Or better yet stop talking about class altogether since so many of you are clearly ill prepared for it.

I love mdzs for how complicated and different it is from what I'm used to and seeing all of that get whittled down into the same old tired money/power = bad when it is so much more than that. It's a completely different system and culture. Western capitalist critiques isn't going to cut it people.

[everykabuto]

[ace-and-ranty]

hello! Just finished the entirety of the scholomance trilogy in a few days (and am currently paying for it with Sleep Deprivation Headache) but like. A concept I haven’t seen get spoken about yet is the manner in which outcomes and such get played with, but like. I don’t know, the idea of another entity contriving circumstances that will ultimately result in a good or at least better outcome but first someone has to be totally miserable for a little while, and when it’s over you can’t even complain because said entity was completely right and you couldn’t have gotten there without it. It’s what happened with El with the school and the prophecy, and also probably what Ophelia was going for with Orion

Oh yes, El's and Deepthi's dynamics is profoundly tragic in that way. I think it really says something for El's family that Deepthi doesn't expect El to not complain later. She did what she did fully prepared for her grandson (El's grandpa) to hate her forever because of it, and at the end of the book it's implied neither El's grandparents, Gwen or El have forgiven her, exactly, they are all just willing to try and be a family.

It is still very, very deeply tragic, and I think it falls within a bigger theme in the series and specially in The Golden Enclaves, which is the legacies that children inherit. In a way everyone in the world is born burdened by their parents' choices. They do what they think is best for us when we just aren't old enough to decide... and for good or for worse, we gotta learn to live with those choices. Deepthi is is just an extreme magical version of it.

Like how El is called "a burdened soul" in the prophecy? She didn't choose to be the weight the universe threw to balance Ophelia's dark magic, she didn't choose to be born to parents who wanted to build Golden Enclaves... and through the book she decides, yeah, maybe she didn't fully choose to receive the Golden Sutras, it was an inheritance from her parents, but she decides she loves them anyway.

On the other hand you have, for example, Liu, who was born to the dream of Enclave building, and who was crumbling under the pressure of it, who decides, actually, she is going to be part of this legacy her way: she won't use malia and she won't stay conveniently in the closet. And Naomi mentioned, in her TGE AMA, that what will really help Liu heal is the fact that ultimately, when push came to shove, her immediate family firmly chose her over the dream of an Enclave.

And then you have Orion as well, GOOD GOD, who was an instrument of his parents' legacy much before he was a child, who was LITERALLY crushed to mawmouth jelly under their expectations.

It's all just variations on the same theme, that children have to contend with legacies they just happened to be born into.

You know, LOL. Speaking of this. Funny story. When I was in high school, my mother had to drag me, kicking and screaming, to my English classes because I did NOT want to go. Now?. Now I work translating English/Portuguese.

"Another entity contriving circumstances that will ultimately result in a good or at least better outcome but first someone has to be totally miserable for a little while, and when it’s over you can’t even complain because said entity was completely right and you couldn’t have gotten there without it"? That's me. That's me and English classes. Mom will never let me forget how right she was about it hahahahahaha.

[juliareed]

You still cling to naive ideals. I learned, at a very young age, the only currency worth anything in this world is power.

[lord-squiggletits]

Something else that makes me sympathetic to Pharma's situation is like. Idk if there's an actual term for this or if someone smarter and more academic wrote it about some real life context that actually matters.

But, so we've already established among Pharma stans that the circumstances at Delphi were blackmail/torture with no real way out that wouldn't involve Pharma being responsible for people getting killed (either killing patients for the deal or having everyone die bc he failed his end of the deal).

And I feel like while "he's still in the wrong because he killed people" is part of it, another sort of implicit part is the idea that Pharma should've been willing to take more personal risk, maybe even risk dying? I mean, Ratchet does ask "why didn't you just detonate it near the DJD" (to which Pharma responds that he did try to get Sonic and Boom to do it, but they refused) so like

Idk I feel like we do have this social notion of martyrs as a very romantic ideal, people you can praise for being so brave and strong and righteous that they ended their own lives for their cause, while you can also coo about how sad and tragic it is that dying is what it took for them to do the right thing. But at the same time I feel like in reality, having an expectation that people become martyrs is kind of a toxic social norm bc like. It's very easy to demand that others sacrifice their lives for some Ultimate Moral Good when you yourself aren't experiencing the same hardships as they are. And ultimately it is kind of fucked up to tell someone "the moral thing you should've done was risk your life/kill yourself" because asking someone to pay their life to do the right thing is no small request. And sure, the typical response would be to call them a "coward" for caring more about saving their own skin instead of doing the right thing... but again, death is a really scary thing and self-preservation is a really strong instinct, so it kind of feels like having this binary view of "you're either a Brave Hero who sacrifices your life for everyone else or a Dirty Coward who's too scared of dying to do what's right" is kind of fucked up?

I guess the best way to describe it is that if someone willingly gives up their life as a sacrifice to others, it can be a noble thing because it's a choice they made willingly, but if it becomes a Moral Standard that in order to be a Good Person you have to be unafraid of throwing your life away and if you aren't willing to die you're a Cowardly Bad Person, that's when it becomes toxic.

Idk, I guess how this ties back to Pharma is that he was never in a position where he expected to make these kinds of moral decisions/ultimatums. He's a doctor who doesn't even get into combat, his job is to heal and not to kill, he's behind the front lines in a hospital that's supposed to be a safe, neutral place for him to heal people. So in the face of suddenly having a "murder people on behalf of me, or I murder everyone you swore to protect" ultimatum thrust upon him, I understand why Pharma wasn't """"""""""brave enough"""""""""" to "do the right thing" (whatever that would've been in the case of Delphi). You could argue that maybe a frontliner soldier accepted the burden of possibly dying for their cause and they've become used to it as someone who lives that reality every single day, but I feel like for Pharma, who's a doctor and a protected non-combatant (from what we can tell), that sort of risking of his life/living with the fact his life could be snuffed out any day isn't something he would've been prepared for at all.

And for me personally, from an outsider's perspective, it strikes me as kind of unethical to go "oh well he should've just detonated the bomb himself even if it killed him" bc again, there's a difference between witnessing a moral conundrum as a bystander versus being the person living with it and being under time pressure where it's do-or-die. Just as part of my personal standards, I feel like death is such a huge consequence/burden of someone's actions (literally you are no longer alive, any potential you had left is cut short, you cease to exist on this plane) that it feels rather callous to go "Well you should've just been willing to die for your beliefs if you really cared that much!!!"

[ctrl-lupin]

Yes, I would be very interested hearing your head canon (@tim-ribbert-56) (in response to this post)

I have decided for my personal entertainment that Clarisse de Cagliostro is related to Lupin III, and here's why.

-pulls out Arsène Lupin's Wikipedia page-

In the novel La Comtesse de Cagliostro, a young Arsène Lupin (at the time going by the name Raoul d'Andrésy) was courting Clarisse d'Etigues, a young lady of a well-to-do family, and trying to win her hand, despite her father's disapproval.

Throughout the course of the novel, Lupin meets and falls in love with Joséphine Balsamo, aka the Countess of Cagliostro, and abandons Clarisse in favour of her. To clarify, Joséphine is not actually countess of anything, she is (or claims to be) a descendant of Giuseppe Balsamo aka the Count of Cagliostro (who was also count of jack shit), a famous conman from the 18th century.

Shenanigans ensue, which I will not go into in details on, but oh my god I am insane about Raoul and Joséphine, I want to dissect them and study them under a microscope. It turns out Joséphine aka Cagliostro is evil as fuck, Raoul/Lupin realizes that and goes back to Clarisse (whom he had previously abandoned like an old sock, I fucking hate this guy), marries her, and a few years later has her kid.

Unfortunately Clarisse dies in childbirth, and Joséphine, who was still around and very very pissed at Lupin (and jealous as hell of Clarisse whom, may I mention, had never personally antagonized her in any way whatsoever, Joséphine is just fucking bonkers). Joséphine also kidnaps Lupin and Clarisse's son, Jean, and raises him as her own son. (I have not yet read the following novel The revenge of Cagliostro so I don't really know what Jean's deal is, I just know he's an antagonist).

The following is my headcanon, based on these events. In the universe of Lupin III, Joséphine Balsamo was actually countess of the small kingdom of Cagliostro (maybe Giuseppe was count, maybe he conned his way into becoming count, maybe he bought the land and built a fake kingdom with a fake history, who knows).

After the events of The revenge of Cagliostro, Jean settles down in the country of Cagliostro, gets married, has a child, and that child will later have a daughter of their own, who they name Clarisse, after their late grandmother. Clarisse de Cagliostro, of Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro fame, would thus be the great-grand-daughter of Arsène Lupin, making her Lupin III's cousin/niece/whatever you call this specific degree of separation.

I am choosing to make Clarisse de Cagliostro a great-granddaughter of Arsène Lupin, rather than a granddaughter, because Arsène Lupin was very young when the events I described unfolded: he is 20 years old when he meets Clarisse d'Etigues and the whole Cagliostro debacle happens, and 25 by the time Jean is born. I'm assuming he had Lupin II much later in his life. So Jean and Lupin II (half-brothers) would have a significant difference in age, and so Jean's hypothetical child (grandchild of Arsène Lupin, so of the same generation of Lupin III) would be much older than Lupin III. Clarisse de Cagliostro is younger than him, maybe around the same age if you stretch it, so she's have to be a great-grandchild.

Now I need to read The revenge of Cagliostro and study Arsène Lupin's wikipedia page in more detail to determine when exactly Lupin II was born and who his mother was. And also where Albert's family branched out, because the fact that he's called D'Andrésy should theoretically place him as a descendant of Arsène Lupin's mother but not of Arsène Lupin himself; but Jean was also going by that last name, so who fucking knows.

No I am not insane I promise, I am just a gigantic nerd.

[iniziare]

Inquisitor: The Evanuris were elven mages? How did they come to be remembered as gods? Solas: Slowly. It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally gods. The Evanuris. Inquisitor: You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them? Solas: They killed Mythal. (Chuckles.) A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment. Inquisitor: I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris? Solas: She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.

You know, sometimes I wonder about him in regards to Mythal. Not only over how intensely he struck down those who slayed her (and the severe repercussions thereof, even if he didn't realize they'd occur as they did), but the sheer conviction he holds in regards to the future. He banished the Evanuris, and in doing so, single-handedly brought devastation to his people, and Mythal's, leaving their descendants scarred and 'weak', shadows of their former selves. But it's the 'and Mythal's' that gets me. He 'avenged' her and in turn, became the 'undoing' of the elven civilization she'd loved and protected above all?

Inquisitor: That's the past. What about the future? Solas: (...) My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the Elven people, even if it means this world must die.

[rivilu]

Haven't had the chance to play actual dnd in real life, but In this run I get the sense that bg3 perfectly captures the "party progresses in a weird sideways way that bypasses tons of the dm's prepared lore, so the dm takes revenge by dropping a near impossible encounter on them" vibe I hear so much about

[layzeal]

i love wei wuxian for being the textbook definition of a "i'll burn that bridge when i get there" kind of guy, but it also does stress me out like a mother duck watching her duckings walk over metal grates