#i care about the inquisition she build

[twist-shout-and-shells]

They're gonna do the Inquisitor as dirty in Veilguard as they did Hawke in Inquisition, huh?

[valenteal]

The story of Anakin Skywalker is about how anyone can break under enough pressure. It isn’t a tragedy about an inevitable doom, it isn’t about how power corrupts or about how caring is dangerous. It’s about how no matter how good and kind and selfless and seemingly invincible someone is they still have needs and they can still be hurt.

Maybe this is because Phantom Menace is my favorite Star Wars movie and so I have rewatched it a million times, but for me Anakin is the most genuinely caring and selfless character in Star Wars. He wasn’t just an innocent kid (kids can be cruel and selfish and they’re usually better when they grow up not worse) he was compassionate and kind and despite growing up surrounded by some of the worst scum in the galaxy he knew nothing of greed. That says so much about his character.

Anakin’s fall to the dark side took over a decade of carful manipulation that culminated in cascade of tragedy and loss. It wasn’t an accident. Every bit of the emotional trauma, physical trauma, and mental trauma from the moment Anakin met Palpatine and on ward was planned. We don’t see the decade he spent between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones but immediately in the second movie we see how much Anakin has changed. Where he used to be confident he’s insecure, where he used to bold and fearless he is now arrogant, where he was once inquisitive he is now cautiously enthusiastic, where he used to build he now destroys. Every change in his behavior and outlook is the result of either the teachings of the Jedi Order which are pretty much the antithesis of his entire personality, the result of Sidious’s manipulation, or the result of the toxic attitudes of many Jedi towards him.

Now I know a lot of people have… misconceptions about what the Jedi Order is and what they stand for. It’s understandable, since I guess a lot of people think of Luke as an everything a Jedi is supposed to be but he is NOT, he wasn’t even taught their philosophy! Yoda and Windu and Luminara are everything a Jedi is meant to be. They take an impersonal approach to justice, they treat others coldly, they believe themselves to be above petty things like emotion and pain and human connection. There are Jedi who take a more progressive stance like Obi-Wan and Quinlan and Qui-Gon but you have to understand that they are not model Jedi and have their own struggles with the Order and its teachings. The Jedi code literally says “There is no emotion.” That is what Jedi strive for. And that isn’t even getting into the genocide or the politics. Focusing on how this affected Anakin. That’s what I’m doing.

Anyway, Anakin is a deeply emotional person. This is not a bad thing. It’s the source of his conviction and his empathy (which a surprising amount of Jedi lack). Anakin feels deeply, so he feels love and anger and sadness more keenly than Jedi who have worked their whole lives to shut off emotion. And he was never taught how to deal with it. The most the Jedi did was tell him to meditate, release his emotions into the Force, focus on the present or other platitudes that do not help! I would know. I’m also a deeply emotional person who feels things very keenly to the point where I had a full psychological evaluation when I was 6 years old. When a person deals with this it NEEDS to be addressed. I have wonderful parents who did everything in their power to help me from a young age and I still ended up suicidal! Anakin did not get help and was instead shamed for feeling so strongly and he ended up bottling it up. People complain about how he was “whiny” and I (a person who has also been called whiny) just go what the fuck do you expect?? Expressing his frustration verbally is literally the healthiest option he has! And we know what it looks like when he chooses other forms of venting! Anakin vented to Padmé almost immediately after reconnecting with her because she is literally the only person in his life who will listen to him (other than Sidious but he makes things worse on purpose).

So yeah. Sensitive people need to be taught how to deal with their emotions in healthy ways. Really everyone does but especially people with strong emotions.

But when Anakin isn’t overwhelmed by emotions he doesn’t have the tools to deal with, or surrounded by toxic people, or being actively manipulated by an evil dictator, that’s when you see who he really is. Which means pretty much all of Phantom Menace, a good chunk of the time he’s alone with Padmé, and… nothing else really. (I’m just going to say here that I am not including Clone Wars Anakin due to the purposeful butchering of his character. I still consider the show canon in everything but Anakin’s characterization in a lot of specific instances.)

Anakin has never been a selfish person. The things people perceive as selfish are his needs. He needs unconditional love. He needs Padmé because she is the only person who gives him that. Even without getting into his psychology and bpd and what a splitting episode is, it isn’t hard to recognize that when he places Padmé’s safety above other people’s it’s an act of self preservation more than self interest. He knows that he would literally go crazy without her. After years of being systematically isolated and traumatized she is the only thing keeping him together. In his desperation to save her and consequently his own sanity he lost both those things. But it’s important to note that he tried to do things right, that he went to Yoda for help, that he told Padmé so she could take her own steps to ensure her health. He did everything he could think of before getting desperate enough to go to Sidious. Not to mention he did everything right after discovering Sidious’s identity. It wasn’t until he was presented with a false dichotomy that boiled down to choosing his mentor and confidant of over a decade and his wife’s life or the man who has scored and distrusted him since he was child that he made the objectively wrong choice. And that was after not sleeping for weeks and having a traumatizing realization that triggered a splitting episode so he wasn’t in a head space to understand what was going on in an objective way.

So yeah. That’s my rant about Anakin Skywalker. If you want to comment or debate know that I will reply with an explanation of my thoughts that could be just as long as this post and that I will not stop until you do. You will not get the last word. I feel very strongly about this and if you’ve gotten this far you have to know that I have thought very deeply about this as well. I have heard every argument. You will not change my mind. I have done research. Engaging with this post to disagree will only lead to me expanding on this even more because this is really a brief summary of all my thoughts and feelings on the matter. If you’re just curious about the rest of my thoughts and feelings just ask.

Don’t try to attack my own morals and character because of this, I am NOT condoning Anakin’s actions or behavior, I am completely aware that he is a deeply damaged and unstable person. The point of this is not to deny that but to explain why Anakin is not naturally like that. The scariest thing about Anakin’s fall is that it happened to Anakin, a paragon of compassion and selflessness. Anyone put under the amount of pressure he was would go crazy. I doubt many people would last as long as Anakin did. He was insanely strong to resist for as long as he did.

[invinciblerodent]

This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.

Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.

There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.

Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.

Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.

Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.

And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.

The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.

I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.

The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.

There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.

And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.

You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.

You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.

Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.

There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".

They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.

[ririgoreid]

'it repulses me.' – S. R.

-> "it's not that i don't want to, i just can't."

-> "no. you just don't try."

spencer reid / reader.

content – avoidant reader , reader is not too understanding , relationship difficulties , emphasis on this being seasons one and two spencer , fairly calm argument , not lots of dialogue , spencer dislikes touch.

this is a part one. part two will be kinder.

the floors are cold against your feet. your home feels more like a hospital. you suppose you should refer to it as a 'house' instead. home is a place of comfort. a place to retreat to in moments of uncertainty, unsafety.

this building didn't feel like that. not even when spencer would come home - which, of course, was not often at all. it got lonely, and you can understand why nobody in the bau could hold down a relationship.

you don't mean to sound all .. 'hey look at me, i have it worse than everybody!' but, you do. you do have it worse than everybody else.

"hey." you hear a soft voice call out. his voice. you continue slicing at the vegetables you'd planned to prep long ago, but you procrastinated. it's an internal dilemma. to or to not respond? you're not .. mad at him. necessarily. but you are upset. upset about what you got yourself into. because you can't leave without feeling like you're the worst person in the world. you told yourself you know what you were getting into, but, did you?

footsteps near the place you stood, and you hear the small thud and rustle of his bag being set down on the counter. you don't look up. you're tired of looking up. "hey ..?" he repeats, taking on a more inquisitive tone.

he furrows his brows at the lack of a response. it was a possibility you didn't hear him when he called out from the door, but this was unmistakeable. he felt insecure. uncomfortable. ".. is something wrong?" he asks. and his tone is too soft. you hate him and his softness. how his voice sounds like honey lines the walls of his vocal cords. how his hands felt like a thick blanket, the mound of his thumb in his palm like a soft ridge in freshly washed fabric. as if that's something you felt often.

you want to answer. you want to talk. but maybe he'd care more about you if you just didn't bother.

.. right?

he exhales quietly before moving to stand next to you. no, he doesn't hold you from behind. doesn't hug you. doesn't soothe or comfort you physically like a loved one does.

"sixty - seven percent of failed relationships are due to a lack of communication, it affects the ability to resolve conflicts in an effecient manner. talking would prove effective in building trust and fostering emotional intimacy-"

you scoff, and it almost sounds like a sob. "intimacy." you parrot with a broken voice, sniffling. stop crying. please stop. you hated being vulnerable - though, who were you kidding? you were vulnerable nearly all the time. because there was never any security and you couldn't come to terms with that. not now, not ever.

".. yes, emotional intimacy is crucial in order to ascertain a functioning-"

"stop talking." you interrupt, your thumb digging into your ring finger as your hand curls into a fist, your other hand tightening around the knife you held.

".. is something wrong?" he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze.

"i'm sure there's many statistics you could spew about how when your girlfriend doesn't respond to you, it means she's angry with you. tell me, what's the likelihood of a relationship like that working out?" you retort, finally lifting your head, but still refusing eye contact. you find yourself feeling surprised that it was harder to look a 'loved' one in the eye than a stranger. maybe he was a stranger. he certainly felt like one.

he notes the tear stains that run their course down your cheeks, spilling from the source that was your eyes. ones he could stare at all day. they're big. cutely so. a deep brown, almost black, but they're so much lighter in the sunlight, and when it's cast down along your eyes, they're brighter. they shine as if that very star in the sky personally lights a fire in your irises. it reminds him of how your face lights up whenever he rambles on about his interests to you. though, right now, you seem anything but interested. especially in him.

you want to ask if he loves you.

truly. loves you.

"i- .. i don't think this is a very profecient direction to be heading in." he answers, and it's vague. almost like he is. and you think, maybe if you couldn't see, you wouldn't notice he was there anyways.

"okay." you concede, unsurprisingly. it was the only reason you and him never got into any heated arguments. where it started, it stopped. because you were too scared all the time. you know what you want. you know you need to put yourself first. you're worth doing that. aren't you ..?

"okay." he repeats, his eyes softening ever so slightly. as if the idiot wasn't soft enough. you almost wanna slap him. hurt him. see if he's really so soft then, because it's so abnormally irritating, having a man who just never breaks character. he's almost as consistent as his habits, and as much as you take comfort in routine and consistency; in times like this, it was unbearable.

".. can i-" he starts.

"why don't you touch me?" you ask. and usually, you'd scold yourself or profusely apologize for interrupting like you had done so many times in the last ten minutes, but you find yourself unable to care. and you wonder if this is what it feels like to prioritize yourself. gratifying. freeing.

"why don't i touch you?" he repeats. repeats. repeats. repeats. and god, does it make you sick to your stomach. does he really not have it in him to answer? to even give you any form of closure? "i- .. you know how uncomfortable i am with touch, i just don't know how to and i find it .. displeasing."

oh.

displeasing. he finds it 'displeasing'. touch is displeasing. that's fine. you have sensory issues too, you get it.

no. no you don't. why kid yourself? you don't get it. you don't understand why someone, who — if he'd ask — you'd give your entire soul to. submit. no questions asked. though, that might not be so true as of late.

your knuckles are white. almost as white as your face, and you assume all the blood left your body and decided to regroup in your heart and stomach, because they both felt this close to exploding, and not even remotely in a good way.

you don't even realize the time that's passed. why would you? when he says something like that so casually, as if you're meant to take it and shut up. which is what you always do. you've conditioned him to expect that. this is your fault. no wonder you constantly wallow in misery - misery that's your own, and not his fault. you ask for this. you accept it with open arms.

"are you-"

"no." you lie. you're a liar. you always resort to telling anything but the truth. especially to yourself.

"please talk to me." he pleads, and oddly enough, you finally decide to look up at him for a split second before averting your gaze again. it was a reflex. an involuntary response. you didn't want to look him in the eye. not now. and, maybe, not ever again.

there's silence before his footsteps slowly retreat, the wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. hesitantly at first, and confidently soon after.

you don't love him.

divider creds — @honeyluvsw @junabuggy , @cursed-carmine , @saradika-graphics

[ryssabrin]

i feel like people who don’t like solas or solavellan have such a warped perspective of what the romance is and how fans of it actually engage in it. like i’ve seen a lot of (most likely het dudes lol) on reddit say they tried it to see what the fuss was but felt it was “demeaning” and i’ve seen it described as literally a horror story where solas is manipulating and using and lying to a young impressionable lavellan who gives up her entire identity for him and becomes a complete doormat to all the awful shit he does. that’s never been my experience and i kinda just want to ramble about how i see it and what i find romantic about it?

so full disclosure, if veilguard had come out a few years ago with how they portrayed lavellan and solavellan i might have been pretty disappointed. i think there is a subset of the solavellan fanbase that likes the wolf/halla or student/professor thing and they play their lavellan younger and agreeing almost without question to everything solas says. i see the appeal but i never played my lavellan that way and i really like the dynamic of it when lavellan actually goes against his advice at times. solas is a character that needs to have his preconceived biases questioned. especially in inquisition when he’s still coming to terms with the fact that the modern people of thedas are in fact people lol. so i was concerned at the prospect of my lavellan being taken out of my hands and having to listen to her make excuses for him and submit to everything he says. (which tbf i don’t think is how she actually comes across in dav, but that was a worry.)

however when i replayed my canon dai run this year, i realized i was closer to the age i always saw my lavellan as (early 30s), and as my lavellan is probably the bioware pc i’ve always played closest to my own personality, i took the opportunity to tweak her a bit and make some different choices. i’ve (hopefully lol) matured and grown a lot since i was 24 and so rather than going for the snarky sarcastic cool girl vibes i opted to play her with more diplomatic and caring choices. it made me see the solas romance in a completely new light. rather than some sort of student/professor dynamic or a pride and prejudice-esque rivals-to-lovers vibe where lavellan is fighting for his respect the whole time, what stuck out to me was how much their connection builds simply because lavellan is kind to solas. she hears him out when he wants to give his opinions and advice, she respects his expertise on the fade and spirits, and she offers him comfort and friendship when she sees he needs it. she impresses him because he finds himself wanting to indulge in her closeness. he finds a connection to someone he never expected to and it makes him rethink everything about the broken state he put the world in.

it’s worth noting that lavellan is always making the first move. she kisses him first, she pursues him. he tries to brush off the kiss as a spontaneous lapse in judgement and she doesn't let him. he only ever gives in to her advances, he doesn't make them himself. he calls their relationship "selfish" on his end. he knows he shouldn't be encouraging her but he can't help but long for her companionship. that being said though if lavellan shuts it down he respects it. he probably feels a little relief because the temptation is now out of his hands lol.

i feel like there’s also this perception that he’s constantly shitting on the dalish while lavellan just has to put up with it and that alone is reason enough to find the relationship demeaning. he mentions the dalish in one optional conversation chain where you ask him for his opinion on the state of the elves and then in the balcony scene where he realizes he’s misjudged the inquisitor after his personal quest. in both instances, lavellan can stick up for the dalish. in the optional conversation, lavellan can say that if solas had a bad experience with a clan once (which we know from dav is exactly what happened lol), that she’d like to correct that misunderstanding about her people.

it's worth noting as well that lavellan doesn't know solas is the dread wolf when he's criticizing the dalish. from her perspective, he's essentially a city-born elf who had some dalish look down their nose at him for not being a "true elf" like they are, something that not only happens in canon throughout the games and lavellan would be aware of, but literally happens to solas specifically, right in front of you. he doesn't say a single word to mihris and she doesn't know a thing about him other than his face is bare and thus feels comfortable referring to him with what is essentially a slur. but rather than confront her directly about it he just passive aggressively speaks to her in elven almost exclusively for the rest of the quest lol.

far from the dynamic being that lavellan is just putting up with someone talking down to her about her culture, i think it's reasonable to see her view is more that they're both members of the same marginalized group, but from different cultures. his position in criticizing the dalish is not punching down it's lateral. she loves her culture, but is able to recognize it has flaws and not every member in it treats other cultures well, particularly even when they're from the same marginalized group. (and it's also just really meaningful that the first "flirt" option you get in the solas romance is lavellan recognizing that solas has put himself in a very vulnerable position as an elven apostate joining the chantry-led inquisition and with whatever power she has she will make sure that it's not held against him.)

i do think the writing conveys that he does have his mind changed about the dalish at least a little bit, but one of his pet peeves is when people are ignorant and refuse any information that challenges their worldview. as a manifested wisdom spirit, it is a particular sticking point to him to not be listened to when he is providing knowledge. i think criticism of how he is towards the dalish is lacking without taking into account his nature as a spirit. obvs we didn’t know that in dai but we do now. when wisdom isn't listened to it turns to pride. "i told you so," "i'll prove i'm right," "you should have listened to me," etc. etc. he got his feelings hurt when the dalish didn't believe him (and according to dav, literally tried to kill him) and his ego's held a grudge ever since.

when it comes to the vallaslin, to me it’s less about solas wanting to dismantle part of dalish culture (he offers no actual opinion on the dalish during that scene) and more that it clearly bothers him a lot that he fought so hard to free the elves from slavery and the one community of elves that’s closest to the descendants of the people he wanted to free still wears tattoos honoring the very tyrants he wanted to free them from. if lavellan says she wants to keep them and that the dalish reclaimed them and they mean something else to her, he doesn’t argue. i actually don’t like that solas’s post breakup banter with cole implies that lavellan thinks he might have broken up with her over the vallaslin. it’s putting thoughts in the head of my character that i personally don’t see her having. the way the breakup plays out, there’s not a single indication that it has anything to do with the vallaslin. i like to pick the “i believe in us” option because it shows lavellan having some idea that there’s something solas isn’t telling her and that’s the main reason he’s walking away. and the irony of course is that we learn in dav that that was the moment he came the closest to just giving up everything to just be with her.

so when i played through dav with my solasmance lavellan and she talks about what drew her to him it all just felt so right. he was kind and wise and sad but he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him. (and that was very almost true!) there was a passion and intensity to their relationship that made her think he was the person she wanted to be with forever. when she says "i thought i would have followed anywhere he asked me to" you could read it as her saying she would have joined him in tearing down the veil if he asked and depending on your lavellan that might be true (though in the next bit she talks about how she would have been trying to change his mind anyways). but you could also read it as what her mindset was while she was with him during dai. before joining the inquisition, she knew him to be someone that traveled the world looking for lost secrets and history. why would she not have wanted to join him in that? is that not something you do when you're in love with someone?

something else that i find really compelling about solavellan is how solas relates to the inquisitor (not just lavellan) as a figurehead stripped of their personal identity. he knows from personal experience exactly what that's like. in the romances (not just solas's), the inquisitor is able to find someone that knows and cares for them for who they are, not what they represent. this aspect of the inquisitor's arc is honestly why i like keeping the vallaslin. my lavellan wants people to be able to look at her as the inquisitor and see a dalish elf. it's one small act of defiance and in reclaiming her own narrative. so thinking about what she might want to do after her responsibilities to the inquisition are over, it's reasonable to think she might want to just go wherever solas goes? because she loves him and feels like herself around him. even her asking him to let her come with him in trespasser feels more motivated by the fact that lavellan sees solas isolating himself and closing himself off and she's sad about it because she cares about him. that was why she wanted to grow close to him in the first place.

and i genuinely don't think it's all that wild that lavellan still holds a torch for solas 10 years later. i personally was friends with this guy in high school i always had a crush on, and towards the end of senior year it looked like it could actually end up turning into something. but then he immediately left for a summer abroad after graduation and eventually moved out of the country full time for school. we kept in touch off and on and caught up when he was in town, but nothing romantic ever happened. for years after i would catch myself thinking every so often what could have been and what he was up to. for solavellan, they were actually together. they had mutually expressed feelings and though their time together was maybe a few months at most, it was intense and passionate. they split up not because anyone's feelings changed, but because of solas's baggage. it's really not unrealistic for lavellan to continue wondering to herself what would have happened if he had been honest with her sooner. if she could have convinced him to change course. and it's not like she has the luxury of retiring and just not thinking about him anymore. that's not a conscious manipulation on solas's part to string her along, that's just the reality of their situation.

and even with all that in mind, in dav lavellan is still able to have the self-awareness to understand that the good in him that she believes exists and all that they had together and what she meant to him could all just be wishful thinking on her part. that she's giving him the benefit of the doubt "imagining his broken heart" when he doesn't deserve it because it makes her feel less foolish. she's not blindly faithful to him. i just loved everything about that scene and every word out of my lavellan's mouth felt spot on and perfect for how i saw their relationship. i could not have been more relieved lol.

as for the ending, i really really dislike the bad faith read that the only thing that matters is mythal and that he somehow loves mythal more and if that weren't true then lavellan alone would be able to convince him to stop. varric says about solas that he wants to be a hero, but it's easier for him to play the villain because it means he didn't fail, everything bad he's done is a choice. once you've done one bad thing, betrayed one friend, manipulated and sacrificed some pawns, committed one lil genocide, etc. lmao, it becomes easier to do it again. you've already crossed your moral event horizon and now you just have to find an end that justifies the means of all your misdeeds. what i've said about solas before is that what's frustrating is that he does genuinely feel remorse about the shit he does, but he needs to believe it's necessary and he will keep doing it. he needs to believe it will all be worth it in the end. it's not that he thinks feeling sorry makes up for it necessarily, but that he had to do it. he had to be the one taking on all of the bad things to hopefully one day do a good thing and it will all work out.

(as a side note when solas says "i would not have you see what i become" in trespasser i always thought that meant he was going to resort to some awful corruptive magic or something but it turns out what he actually meant was "i'm about to be a real asshole and do some incredibly awful things and i don't want you to see that side of me" which is much sadder.)

so when rook says "you don't have to do this" solas counters with "i've betrayed and fucked over and killed so many people who trusted me and if i stop i will have done that for nothing." so then the inquisitor jumps in with "as one of those people, i'm telling you that you can stop." but then we get to the heart of it. he thinks he failed mythal when she died the first time and was unwilling to listen to her as flemeth. he needs to make that mean something. he needs to justify to himself what mythal made him into. so he needs to hear from his mythal, not morrigan's mythal who has the benefit of the wisdom and hindsight centuries of living among mortals gave her, but his mythal, the one closest to who she was when she died that what he is is broken. that she's the one that broke him and he alone doesn't have to bear the weight of everything he did because of her. it's not about loving her, it's about the specific relationship he had with her. with that baggage unpacked, he's not only able to let go of his prideful need to prove himself right by tearing down the veil, he's also free to choose what he always really wanted: lavellan.

and still! yet again! he does not ask or assume anything on her part. she offers! of her own free will. something that really rustles my jimmies about a lot of solavellan criticism is that people act like lavellan has no agency. that she couldn't possibly make the choices she does of her own accord and it has to be solas manipulating her. that has never rang true to me at all. she always made the first move. i think this more uncharitable read might unfortunately be encouraged by how many actual solavellan shippers play into the wolf/halla thing but i personally don't think that's the dynamic that weekes actually wrote. it is lavellan that pursues solas, not the other way around. and weekes was honestly so careful in how they wrote the romance so that when solas's identity and plans are revealed, it doesn't feel like he intentionally tricked you or took advantage. i actually really like the ambiguity of whether or not they slept together because to me it does feel like that's a line solas wouldn't cross, but i get why that doesn't matter as much to other solasmancers.

i also think there's this perception that solavellan is a ship with an unhealthy power dynamic that needs to be "fixed" in some way or at the very least apologized for before you're allowed to like it. for me it's honestly kind of the appeal? not that there's some goofy dom/sub thing going on lol but that in spite of how "superior" solas may or may not feel to lavellan and the modern elves, he still falls hook line and fucking sinker for her. lavellan has so much more power in the relationship than she realizes. she changes his entire perspective on modern elves and his ultimate goals so bad he had a complete crisis of faith and had to run as far away from her as he could. how could he have broken the world so badly he needs to catastrophically break it again to fix it if it could create someone like her? someone he wants and cares for so desperately? it's the push and pull of him trying to stay away but selfishly indulging as long as he can that's so juicy to me! it's so good and i just wish other people could see that, even if they don't care for the character.

anyways. i don't have a conclusion. i don't want anyone to think i'm vaguing about them. this is honestly the result of some thoughts that have been brewing for a while and a lot of common criticisms i've seen over the years. i didn't want to respond directly to anyone in particular bc i learned my lesson about not doing that waaay back in the shenko fandom iykyk lol. i just really like the ship! i think it's tragic and romantic and lovely and poetic and mythological and all that good stuff. it humanizes solas as a character and makes me think about empathy and compassion and how much faith you can have in someone if you love them. or how it might feel to sacrifice love for something you think you need to do, only to ultimately realize you never did and find that love patiently waiting for you to get your shit together. or to love someone and know they love you back and that they love you so much they had to leave or they would have given up everything they thought they needed for you and then to be able to actually get through to them and get them back. "she could save him if he'd only just let her"! it's a very niche wish fulfillment fantasy and it's me! i'm the fan being serviced!

[zombiequeens]

The moment of just letting go

Content: Smut, Papa V Perpetua x F!Reader

Summary: A sister of sin has been satanized by unholy desires...and the only person she can tell is the very cause of her affliction.

18+ MDNI

You step into the chapel like you have so many times before. The same familiar smell of the old but well taken care of wood and the incense burned during the weekly rituals invades your nose and almost calms you down enough to slow your heart which begins to thump harder in your chest as you approach the large door to the side of the building. Papa's office.

"I…I can do this…" You mutter under your breath.

You knock twice on the door, gently.

"…Yes?"

"Papa…it's Sister [Y/N]. May I speak to you?"

You listen for an answer but before you know it, the door opens and there before you stands Papa V Perpetua. He looks down at you inquisitively with a slight smile that creates a crease in his face paint. He's in one of his casual outfits - fitted black jeans with a lace up crotch, his beloved black belt with a bat-shaped buckle, a black turtleneck and black silk shirt. His ebony curls are messier than usual, framing his half-masked face and brushing against his shoulders. You're never quite prepared to meet his gaze - his left iris is pure white and gives the illusion of a cold stare. His right is a deep green with hues of hazel and blue in the right lighting. You could spend eternity counting the colours in his eyes.

He's beautiful.

"How can I help you, Sister? Are you unwell?" There is a sense of urgency in his tone.

"No, no, I…I need to confess. Is it a bad time?"

His eyes search your face for a moment and recognise your distress.

"Of course not. Take a seat in the booth and I'll be there in a moment." He says softly, before disappearing behind the door.

You slowly make your way over to the confession booth and sit down, drawing the curtain in front of you. Your hands and legs are both a weak and shaky mess as your thoughts race circles around you. A few moments later, you hear the steady but calm footsteps approach the other side of the booth. Papa sits down, draws his own curtain and turns to the confession window between you both.

"I'm here…what is it that you'd like to confess, Sister?"

"Papa, I…" Your eyes begin to swell with tears. "I'm sorry, this is hard to say out loud…"

"It's alright," You think that you hear him place a hand to the window, the closest he can get to comforting you. "There's no shame here, no sin…only an ear to listen."

He speaks softly but lowly in an Italian accent. He has the kind of voice that could soothe the most panicked of people. You catch your breath, and try again.

"Papa, there's someone I can't stop thinking about."

"Oh?" His soft, concerned tone now contains a hint of curiosity.

"It's distracting me from my duties. I can't get him out of my mind…and…the thoughts are often…not pure…" You start to feel tears coming again.

"I understand," He pauses. "Now, Sister, why do you feel that you would ever need to confess to something so natural and innocent?"

"Because he's my boss."

You can barely believe the words that have just come out of your mouth. There is silence. You can't focus enough to count but it feels like an eternity.

"You've…been thinking about me?" You can feel him lean in closer to the window.

"Yes, Papa." Tears are now streaming down your cheeks. "I can only ever think of you…"

Papa gets up and makes his way over to the closed curtain in front of you.

"Can I see you?"

"Yes, Papa…"

He gently opens the curtain and kneels in front of you, reaching up to hold your face. With his gloved hand, he wipes any falling tears away. "There's no need to cry, dear one…" His tenderness turns you into a puddle in front of him, and you wonder if he pities you.

And then…

"I think about you, too."

You look up to meet his captivating eyes. With a hand still holding your face, he closes the distance between you, placing one knee on the seat and steadying himself with his other hand. He lifts your chin so that your lips graze his.

He pauses for a moment to smile at you and you close your eyes to let him know that you're ready.

The kiss starts off soft as he takes your bottom lip between his. The way he tastes is intoxicating. You place a hand on his firm chest and bury the other in his curls.

"Papa…" You moan between kisses.

"Mm?…" You've never heard his voice like this. A deep, breathy growl that stokes the fire burning in the deepest parts of you.

"I want you," You breathe, barely able to articulate any words yourself. Papa deepens the kiss, tightening the grip he has on your face and starting to explore your mouth with his tongue. You can feel him smile into you each time he makes you moan with only his kiss.

He pulls away from you and returns to a kneeling position on the floor of the booth, between your legs. Placing a hand on each of your knees, he plants soft kisses up to your thighs until his face is pressed up to your wetness. You instinctively open your legs and he lifts them up to rest on his shoulders.

"So wet for me…" He mutters, pecking you through your panties.

"Only for you, Papa…"

You place your hands in his hair again as he expertly slides your underwear down and off with two gloved fingers.

You arch your back slightly to give him more access, desperate to feel his touch. He smirks again as he gently parts your folds with his thumb and index finger.

"You're beautiful,"

He takes in the view of you spread out in front of him one more time before leaning in to suck and gently lick at your clit. His warm tongue feels like heaven, easing all of the aching and tension you've been holding for him.

"V…" You moan.

"That's right, baby." He growls from between your thighs; turned on by hearing you moan his name rather than his title.

He pulls away from your pussy which has now created a pool below you on the seat. He swiftly removes both gloves to reveal his strong but slender and perfectly crafted hands. His hands were something you fixated on but you so rarely got to see them.

He teases your entrance, running a finger up and down your slit before inserting it and stroking at your sweet spot which has swollen from arousal. The waves of pleasure course through your entire body as your grip on his hair tightens. He barely notices, keeping his eyes on you, relishing in the pleasure he's delivering with a single finger motion.

Your fluids begin to soak his hand and he inserts another, repeating the same motion but with a gentle forward motion, fucking you with his beautiful fingers.

You're a flushed, wet, gasping mess on his hands and you can barely form a thought. The pleasure is too much to bear and stars explode in the corners of your vision.

"V, I think I'm going to…" You gasp.

"[Y/N]…It's okay, darling. Let go," He moans.

He leans down and gently nips on the flesh of your thigh with his sharp canines, sucking ever so gently. Leaving his mark while being careful not to do too much too soon.

"Cum on my fingers, baby." He growls, muffled by your flesh.

His command sends you over the edge and your legs tremble atop his shoulders as you cry out in pleasure and relief. He continues to fuck you with his fingers while using a thumb to rub soft circles over your clit, guiding you through the waves of sheer ecstasy.

When it's over, you lean forward and pull his head closer to you. His lips are glistening with your cum and sweat and he smiles at you as though you're the most breathtaking view - even though you're sure you must look a mess. You tenderly kiss him and feel a strange sense of pride tasting yourself on his lips.

Papa tastes like my pussy.

You chuckle to yourself and the inquisition takes over the look of lust on his face.

"Something funny?" He caresses your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I taste good on you."

A wicked smile stretches his lips. "I think so, too."

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight: Troublesome Suitors

Description: In which the Blackwood Knight must fend off some troublesome suitors vying for his fair lady's hand.

Writer's Note: Hi all! Been a long time since I posted any 'Blackwood Knight' related content but this is an outtake/extra part of that story, if you will. It may be the prelude to another story/sequel (*wink, wink*). Not sure if this is still of interest to anyone, but had an idea so thought I'd run with it. There was a request from a very kind reader (@rebeccawinters) to write more in this series, so consider this a taste of more to come.

Warning: Brief mention of non con kiss. Female reader.

Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

A gentle breeze fluttered the golden leaves of the Brackentree, overhead, under which a lady and a Knight were ensconced. The lady looked down nervously at the tome open on her lap, still nervous that the Knight next to her would grow bored of hearing her speak of her favourite stories, though he had not yet, after a week of meeting at this tree. She little knew how fascinated Benji was to hear this lovely girl talk to him on whatever subject she chose, especially her stories, since they revealed so much of her character and interests. He admired the beauty of her mind as much as her person, and that of the ideal world she had built in her mind; a world in which loyalty and honour stood for something more than swearing fealty to the next usurper to make a claim for the throne. Perhaps they could build that world together, thought he, smiling softly down at her as she continued to talk about her book. He found her intermittent stutters and nervous avoidance of his eyes endearing and sweet, though he wished that she would feel comfortable in his presence. Benji frowned as he saw Y/N shudder slightly for the second time in a few minutes, realising that she must be cold.

Swiftly unclasping his cloak from around his neck, he gently wrapped it around her shoulders, holding her shoulders affectionately for a moment longer than he needed to. His heart stuttered as she turned her pretty face to look inquisitively up at him, and he found himself stuttering a reply. "Forgive me for my presumption, I thought you might be cold." He held his breath as she tilted her head curiously at him, fearing he had offended her, but she only rewarded him with a sweet, shy smile before returning her gaze to her book. He smiled to himself smugly as he noticed a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. Leaning back against the tree complacently, he shuffled slightly closer so that his shoulder could brush hers. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye to gage her reaction, he was further gratified when she did not stiffen in the slightest and only continued to tell him about her book.

After a few moments she grew silent and her brows furrowed together in a look of worry. Leaning down to meet her gaze, he questioned frantically, “what's wrong? Have I done something to upset you?” Y/N quickly refuted this, shaking her head and waving her hand as if dismissing the issue. “Oh no, not at all, I was only thinking about something displeasing. No matter”' and with that, she smiled up at him. Her quick dismissal of an issue, which was clearly bothering her, concerned Benjicot, demonstrative of a lack of concern for herself and a lack of belief that anyone would care about something worrying her. He would have to remedy this. Anything that concerned her concerned him, and he would fix it if he could. Speaking softly, or as softly as he could, he sought to ascertain the cause of her worry. “I would be grateful if you would tell me what concerns you, my Lady.”

She titled her head inquisitively at him, once again, as if surprised he would care, but answered him hesitantly. 'It is only that my Lord Uncle has been quite insistent in urging me to consider potential suitors of late and I would rather he was not so. I find it difficult enough being forced to talk to people I do not care for, let alone suitors who have no real interest in my person, just what a marriage between our Houses could do for their own personal gain.” She said all of this without taking a breath, her frustration barely concealed, but she immediately looked bashfully after she had finished, as if half expecting Benji to reprimand her for such openness. The dark expression on his face only seemed to confirm this fear and she stuttered out an apology. “Pay me no heed, it is a foolish thing to complain of. I know I will have to marry eventually, but I cannot imagine marrying a man I did not at least like or respect.”

As she looked away from the Knight beside her in embarrassment, she internally rebuked herself for her complaining. Her internal tirade was cut short by Benji interjecting in a soft, almost coaxing tone. She thought she imagined him moving his hand closer to hers on the ground so that their fingers could touch, a comforting gesture. But perhaps he had not realised how close they were, she reminded herself. “When you do marry, it should not be to a man you merely like or respect.” “No?” She questioned tentatively, surprised to see a warmth in Benji's eyes, as he gazed down at her, his face closer to hers than she had previously thought. “It should be to a man who adores you and loves  respects your whole person; not only the beauty of your outward person, but also your mind”. Y/N's mouth parted in silent shock at Benji's outburst before she turned away, growing bashful at his description of her as 'beautiful'. Benji gently turned her chin back to face him, determined that she should fully internalise his words. “For you are beautiful, in your physical person and your mind, which is like a diamond, clear and dazzling.”

 He bent lower to her face, noses nearly brushing as he half-whispered. “The man who you marry will not only see this, but do everything in his power to protect such beauty. I know I would.” Y/N emitted a nervous laugh before releasing herself from Benji's grasp on her chin, and turning away from him once again, though she nestled herself closer to him all the same. Benji satisfied himself that he had made his point and that if his lady did not entirely take his full meaning, the confession of love behind his words, she would at least understand her worth. A moment of silence passed before Y/N quietly said words which had Benji's heart soaring. “None of them are as polite and kind as you. They do not understand me as you do or even care to.”

Benji took a deep breath, feeling his heart swell at her sweet words. Perhaps Rob was wrong. Perhaps she could grow to love him and would one day accept his hand in marriage. His joy was cut short, however, by his lady's next words, muttered quietly under her breath, as if she was unsure whether or not she wanted him to hear. “I know that they mock me for my shyness and see me as no more than a bargaining chip.” Benji's next words came out stiff, through gritted teeth. “These suitors,” he spat out, as if the word was distasteful, “bother you? Are insolent enough to be rude to you?” His anger was rising in his chest, his fist clenching into a tight ball at his side as he immediately began planning how to despatch any man who insulted his lady. The next moment he found himself relaxing and assuming a dazed expression as the lovely lady next to him surprised him by turning her pretty features upon him in a look marked with the utmost concern.

Raising her hand to his head, she pressed the back of it against his forehead and he had to force himself not to close his eyes at the feel of her hand upon him. Instead he looked down at her speechless, as she urgently enquired into his wellbeing. "Are you well Benji? You look flushed, is something the matter?" She looked briefly confused at his lack of response, which she began to grow concerned was only further evidence of an incipient illness.

In truth, the normally formidable Benjicott Blackwood was left utterly in awe of the beauty and gentleness he saw before him, hardly believing it was directed towards him. He very nearly forgot himself and swept the angelic creature before him into his arms then and there but, reminding himself that she was shy and probably did not reciprocate his love for her, he restrained himself, even if he did lean into her touch. Lowering his face towards her, pulled almost by a magnetic force he spoke in a soft tone. "No, my Lady, I am perfectly well, thank you. I am only unhappy to hear of your own troubles and would remedy them if I could. Would you...” He hesitated, seeking to indirectly gain her permission to despatch, remove, he corrected himself, these troublesome suitors for her. “Yes?” She asked in that straightforward way she always did. It was one of the things he loved most about her. She had an innocence, almost like a baby deer encountering the world for the first time, in how she perceived the world and communicated her thoughts. He could not understand how she had been mocked for such transparency in a world of vipers and lickspittles. He knew only too well what he would do to the people who had ever made her feel inadequate about the very traits he found so enchanting about her. He'd planned each of their murders in great detail. Not that he would ever tell her that. The aim was not to frighten her, but to win her love.

He'd have to be indirect about his approach to these suitors, lest the sweet creature next to him looking at him with her crystal blue eyes should grow suspicious of their sudden absence. He'd have to pick them off one by one. “Would you be opposed to these suitors disappearing, entirely coincidentally of course,” he added, hurriedly. He could almost hear Rob's patronising voice in his mind: “real smooth, Benjicott”. “That would be too convenient,” She sighed. Benji smirked slightly, that was all the permission he needed to remove these irritating obstacles from his lady's sight...and his path to win her hand to him.. He was snapped out of his malevolent thoughts, once again, by the soft voice of the lady next to him. “What are you thinking of Benji? You have that odd expression on your face you usually have when I talk about Edmund. Are you...angry with me? We don't have to talk about this anymore if it bothers you.” She spoke hurriedly, turning her reddening face away from him in embarrassment, clearly believing herself to be the cause of Benjicot’s ire.

Benjicot’s eyes widened with alarm and he grabbed her delicate hand in his own and held her shoulder gently with his other, before he could think better of it. Y/N's her head snapped up to meet his at his sudden touch, surprised by the almost tender way he had encased her hand and shoulder in his hands, gently turning her toward him. “Sweet...” Y/N's eyes widened at what she thought sounded like...but it couldn't be, she chastised herself. Why would Benji, a Knight who could probably had a vast entourage of ladies interested in him, possibly be about to call her 'sweet heart.'

After a moment of hesitation, Benji continued, only a slight tension in his jaw revealing his frustration at having allowed his love for the lady before him to nearly result in a misstep that may have had her fleeing from his presence before he could stop her. He could not risk losing her by frightening her with the ardency of his feelings when he was certain she did not feel the same. He sought to correct his mistake as quickly as possible, lest she realise what he had nearly said and flee. “You are very sweet, my Lady, but I wish you to know that you could never anger or annoy me. Everything and anything you have to say to me is of the highest importance to me and if I do appear angry, it is only on your behalf. These ignorant pups have no business intruding themselves upon your presence. I would chase them off if I could.” Benji was equally surprised and delighted to hear his quiet lady, usually so reserved and shy, even with him, break into playful laughter at his last comment - which he had meant in all seriousness. He could not contain the smile that spread across his features as she continued to laugh, her hand pressed to her lips as if to suppress her mirth. He playfully nudged her shoulder, before leaning down conspiratorially to her level. “And what, may I ask, is the cause of your laughter my Lady?”

Still struggling to contain her laughter, Y/N met Benji's gaze with a dazzling smile, like the light dappling a woodland, as she responded. “It is only the thought of you chasing those intolerable suitors off. I suppose one look from you would have them running”, she jested. Benji smirked at this, lowering his head teasingly, seeing her face redden as he drew closer, though she did not move away from him, much to his pleasure. Tilting his head, he whispered by her ear, “am I really so formidable, my Lady? I hope you do not find me frightening”. Sensing she was flustered by his close proximity by the way she was tensed, he reluctantly drew back, though he watched her expression carefully. She could little guess how important her answer to his question was to him. He thought he could hardly bare it if she answered in the affirmative...that she was afraid of him too, just like everyone else seemed to be, Bracken or otherwise.

To the rest of the Riverlands, even his own kin and bannermen, he was known as ‘Bloody Benjicot’, and not for nothing. He protected Blackwood lands from Bracken incursions with a ferocity that lent weight to the appellation. Nevertheless, he never wished for the gentle lady before him to view him as such. From their very first meeting and, even before that, when he had only watched her from afar, he had felt a deep desire to protect her. Much to his surprise and delight, she had appeared to view him as such since he had first defended her from her incorrigible peacock of a cousin who, he reminded himself, still needed a plucking for his crimes against her. Beyond her habitual timidity, she had never seemed to fear him. After he had watched her walk back to her home that first day of their meeting, he had feared that he would never see her again, but she had returned each day to the Brackentree, bordering his lands.

Never seeming surprised to see him waiting for her, she appeared contented at the sight, quickly nestling down next to him to discuss her books or her day or anything. It was all as interesting to Benji, since it concerned her - the lady he loved and adored more than anything in this life, even his own lands. She was the only person who had seen him not only for who he was, but who he could be: a Knight whose trenchant sense of loyalty could be directed towards a higher aim than merely countering border scuffles. He had always thought that no single cause or person could ever command the loyalty of him that his own House and lands did, not even the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, though he was proud to pledge his sword to Rhaenyra, the true Queen's cause. He soon came to realise that the lady before him was this higher aim, the guiding star in his life and the object of all his future hopes. She might not ever be a Queen in name, but he would readily admit to anyone who asked that she was the queen of his heart and where his true loyalty lay.

Usually so confident, Benjicot found himself tensing his shoulders and fixing his gaze upon the ground, rather than her lovely eyes as he awaited her response to his question. He looked up suddenly in shock, first to the small hand placed upon his forearm and then to the crystalline eyes that had haunted his dreams so much of late. "I am not afraid of you, Benji. You have always been so kind to me. You are...my best friend" she added, with a nervous smile, before quickly looking away from him.  Warm affection surged in his chest at hearing her confirm that she was not only not afraid of him, as he had feared, but also even considered him more gentlemanly than her suitors on the Bracken side. Lowering his head to chase her eyes, despite her adorable attempts to evade them. He couldn't help finding her perennial shyness endearing. When she finally met his gaze, he gently lifted her hand to his lips and placed a reverent kiss upon her knuckles, which only made her blush harder. "You are my best friend too, my Lady, and if your, no doubt, endless train of suitors are causing you distress, I am sure your loyal friend can think of a way of 'removing them'.

Benji grinned, pleased with himself, as a laugh bubbled forth from her and she lightly pushed his shoulder in remonstrance. "Don't be silly, Benji. I appreciate your concern, but there's nothing you can do without crossing the border into Brackenlands. That would be far too dangerous". Benji murmured under his breath, "for them." "What was that, I didn't quite catch it," Y/N looked up inquisitively at him. "Nothing, nothing, my Lady, you just have a twig in your hair. Do I have your permission to remove it?" Embarrassed at having had a twig in her hair for gods only know how long, she quickly assented, "Oh, yes of course." With her agreement, Benji wasted no time in brushing his knuckle softly against her temple and through her hair, before tucking a stray lock behind her ear. "All gone now," he assured her, though there had never really been a twig in her hair to begin with. He smiled mischievously at her, for what reason she could not tell, but she did so like to see him smile, especially at her, because of something she had said.

Smiling brightly back at him, she quickly waved away her concern that he might incur danger to himself in order to rid her of her irritating suitors. Why would he go to so much trouble on her account, even if they were friends? Returning her gaze to her book, the pair happily passed the time in comfortable silence, Benjicott content merely to be in the presence of the one he loved, and she absorbed in her book. When enough time had elapsed, Benji thought, for his next question to be posed without incurring too much suspicion from his lady as to the motivations behind it, Benji tentatively spoke his next query. "My Lady, would you be able to....perhaps, describe these suitors or...tell me their names?" Avoiding her eyes, sure she would be able to see the dark thoughts lingering behind them, Benji directed his gaze off into the far distance as he awaited her reply. A quiet, yet direct response of 'why?' had him struggling to repress a smile at the air of ingenuousness behind it. As expected, she did not as of yet hold any suspicions as to his reasoning; she was genuinely incredulous as to the reason. His brows furrowed the next moment, however, as he realised that her lack of suspicion also spoke to her disbelief that anyone would care enough to intercede on her behalf over something that had upset or concerned her.

A wave of sadness passed over him then, but he quickly rallied himself, a look of steely determination in his eyes. He would convince her, no matter how many years it took, that she was worth more than anyone had ever lead her to belief. That she was worthy of being cared for. That she meant more than anything to him. Gods, he worshipped the ground she tread on and he'd be damned before he let any suitors bother his love for even a second more. Still assuming an air of nonchalance and directing his shifty expression elsewhere, Benjicott responded to his lady's query. "No reason in particular, just to build a better mental picture for myself of these bastar....weasels," he quickly corrected himself. "Oh, of course." She responded, in her sweet, direct way of hers, as if she should have expected us much. She then proceeded to describe the four offenders with a degree of detail he was grateful for, only interjecting a few times to ask for more particulars.

By the time she had finished describing them, Benjicott had a clear enough idea of the "weasels" in question who he needed to despatch...have a stern talking to, he corrected himself mentally, once again. Only one of his lady's suitors had caused enough offense to merit more than that, the others were mere weak-spirited vassals of House Bracken that needed to be removed from his Love's presence. That shouldn't be too difficult. He'd seen all of them before and knew when he could expect to come across them near the borders to the Blackwood lands. The other one, however, would need more than a stern talking to. The craven bastard had dared to touch his lady, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from leaving the room to avoid hearing his pathetic attempts to win her heart. Benji's eyes had darkened at his lady's admission of this, his fists once again curling into tight balls at his side. His voice came out harsher than he'd intended, as he realised he'd been gritting his teeth in his anger at the suitor who had dared to frighten his lady by imposing his unwanted attentions on her. "He should never have touched you or enforced his unwanted solicitations upon your presence.

He would not have gotten so far if I had been in the room, my Lady." Y/N met his gaze with another quizzical look, searching his eyes for something, he could not tell what. He found himself wishing, hoping even, that she might find the love he held for her therein and not be offended by it. That she might even return it. But no, she only looked away from him again and spoke in a quiet tone. "You have always been such a gentleman, Benji. Not all men are so. I wish you could be there with me when I have to deal with these suitors. I never know what to say to them. I always end up offending them merely by being myself." Her eyebrows furrowed at this into a look of concentration, seemingly trying to uncover the reason why she had caused offense. Benjicott found her look of confusion adorable, much as he did everything else about her, especially her directness, which so seemed to offend the spineless scoundrels who vied for her hand. The hand he would so cherish if she were to grant him her love.

"It is their fault if they are offended, not yours. You should always speak your mind, my Lady. It is not for you to pander to weak men such as they are. Have you spoken to anyone of the rude manner in which these suitors have addressed you?" Y/N smiled sadly up at Benjicott before replying. My Lord Uncle cares little for anything involving myself and I would not want to be a burden. "You never could be" Benjicott interjected abruptly before he could stop himself. Another quizzical look from her, before she lightly patted his shoulder. "Thank you Benji, you are very kind." "No I am not, my Lady. Or at least, I say what I say not out of mere kindness, but because I genuinely, ardently mean what I say. You are and never could be a burden...not to me." He said the last part so quietly he was not sure if she would hear him. The light blush on her cheeks was the only intimation that she had heard him and might have been touched by what he had meant as a subtle confession of his true feelings for her, but she quickly looked away before he could completely embarrass himself by falling to his knees in front of her and begging her to grant him her hand in marriage.

 "My uncle does not share your view. My cousin, Aeron, is very kind to be and cares for me. I'm sure he would intervene if I were to tell him of Ser Percival's unwanted attentions but I hesitate to do so after the last time I mentioned a suitor was bothering me." Benjicot's interest was immediately piqued at this unexpected revelation. "Oh? What happened the last time you did so, my Lady?"

"Aeron wouldn't tell me exactly, he's very assiduous about not involving me in anything unpleasant, but Ser Benjen did not renew his suit afterwards and I later caught a glimpse of something that looked suspiciously like a purple bruise under his eye. Aeron wouldn't admit that he was the culprit, but he grew very edgy when I mentioned it to him and started stuttering out possible scenarios which were so outlandish that I know it was him. Ser Benjen is an oaf, but not so much so that he could, as Aeron suggested, have 'tripped over a bucket and fallen down the stairs or been hit in the face by a raven.' Aeron's never been a very good liar, gods bless him. Not to mention that he'd already asked me if Ser Benjen had bothered me again, no doubt in full knowledge the poor man had been too afraid to, with Aeron glaring at him every time he was even in the same room as me'. Y/N shook her head and smiled indulgently at the thought of her kind cousin's well-meaning antics.

Benjicot found himself smiling in spite of himself. He had to hand it to Aeron Bracken, he was as loyal to his House and family as he was to his own. That factor alone had earned him enough respect from Benjicot to ensure their frequent border scuffles always involved an element of almost brotherly playfulness that never resulted in full out warfare. But it was his kindness and care for his cousin, the lady Benjicot loved, which had him thinking he could have befriended Aeron under different circumstances. Not to mention he'd done Benjicot the immense favour of already removing one suitor from the equation. One down, three to go, Benjicot mentally made a tally for himself.

"Right, one down, three more Bracken scoundrels to go. No problem, you've come to the right man. I can arrange for them to mysteriously and, quite coincidentally, of course, disappear". Rob echoed the tally Benji had mentally made for himself but a few hours ago, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and making a motion with his hand as if he were physically wiping the suitors away. Benjicot sighed in frustration with his loyal and well-meaning friend. "How many times do I have to tell you, Rob. I won't allow you to murder Brackens and cause a war, just because you hate them." Rob's mischievous expression quickly turned sullen. "Fine," he sulkily replied, "have it your way. How do you plan on 'removing' these drivelling knaves from your lady's presence?”

 Benji turned fully to his friend, having advanced a few paces ahead of him on their way back to Raventree. "I intend to have a polite discussion with the first two and a not so polite discussion with the third one who dared to lay a hand on her." Benjicot glowered at Rob as he broke into laughter, holding his torso in response to what he had meant to be taken in utter seriousness. "Enjoying yourself, Rob?" Still struggling to quiet his laughter, brushing away stray tears that had streamed from his eyes, Rob sought to make amends. "I apologise my friend, but I think I know enough of your character to know exactly what you mean by a 'polite discussion' and it involves at least three broken noses and several black eyes." "Not necessarily!" Benjicott peevishly replied, though he could not entirely refute Rob's accusation. It all depended on how amenable these pipsqueaks were to his 'polite' request that they kindly full off and leave his girl alone...or else.

His dark thoughts were interrupted, once again, by Rob breaking into another round of laughter. "There it is, I can see you scheming their deaths right now. I'll marry a Bracken tomorrow if you manage to have a 'polite discussion' with these suitors that doesn't involve them encountering some violence from your end of some kind or another." Benjicot did not honour Rob's sallies with any response, merely glowering at him and turning petulantly to stalk off in the direction of Raventree. He'd show Rob that he could a conversation with these suitors, telling them to never impose themselves upon his lady again or face the consequences, without actually putting those consequences into action...he hoped.

"Right, one down, three more Bracken scoundrels to go. No problem, you've come to the right man. I can arrange for them to mysteriously and, quite coincidentally, of course, disappear". Rob echoed the tally Benji had mentally made for himself but a few hours ago, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and making a motion with his hand as if he were physically wiping the suitors away. Benjicott sighed in frustration with his loyal and well-meaning friend. "How many times do I have to tell you, Rob. I won't allow you to murder Brackens and cause a war, just because you hate them." Rob's mischievous expression quickly turned sullen. "Fine," he sulkily replied, "have it your way. How do you plan on 'removing' these drivelling knaves from your lady's presence?”

 Benji turned fully to his friend, having advanced a few paces ahead of him on their way back to Raventree. "I intend to have a polite discussion with the first two and a not so polite discussion with the third one who dared to lay a hand on her." Benjicott glowered at Rob as he broke into laughter, holding his torso in response to what he had meant to be taken in utter seriousness. "Enjoying yourself, Rob?" Still struggling to quiet his laughter, brushing away stray tears that had streamed from his eyes, Rob sought to make amends. "I apologise my friend, but I think I know enough of your character to know exactly what you mean by a 'polite discussion' and it involves at least three broken noses and several black eyes." "Not necessarily!" Benjicott peevishly replied, though he could not entirely refute Rob's accusation. It all depended on how amenable these pipsqueaks were to his 'polite' request that they kindly full off and leave his girl alone...or else.

His dark thoughts were interrupted, once again, by Rob breaking into another round of laughter. "There it is, I can see you scheming their deaths right now. I'll marry a Bracken tomorrow if you manage to have a 'polite discussion' with these suitors that doesn't involve them encountering some violence from your end of some kind or another." Benjicot did not honour Rob's sallies with any response, merely glowering at him and turning petulantly to stalk off in the direction of Raventree. He'd show Rob that he could a conversation with these suitors, telling them to never impose themselves upon his lady again or face the consequences, without actually putting those consequences into action...he hoped.

 "Well well, the conciliator returns, no doubt from his successful diplomatic negotiations with the unlucky fellows who dared to bother his sweet lady. Oh but look, lads," Rob called jubilantly from his jaunty position on a fence to Kermit and Oscar beside him, all with smirks on their faces, "is that blood on your collar, good envoy?" "Oh fuck off, Rob, this one deserved it and I barely touched him. He ran off with his tail between his legs." Rob looked at his nails, returning smugly. "So you said the last two times. Did they all deserve it too?" "Yes!" Benjicott spat out quickly, without hesitation. "This was especially." His eyes darkened at the memory of his encounter with the craven bastard who had presumed to touch his lady and frighten her with his unwanted solicitations. He'd found the swine patrolling the border on his own, in his arrogance. Well, this would go a lot quicker than if Benjicott had to deal with a host if Brackens.

"Oi, dastard, I have some business with you," Benjicott shouted across to the Knight, swaggering casually up to the border. "You dare address me in such a manner, Blackwood swine!" The Knight spat out. "Who are you to accuse me of cowardice?" Benjicot advanced so that he was chest to chest with the Bracken Knight, his steely response coming out through gritted teeth. "Oh I dare. Any man that presumes to touch a lady without her permission and insult her with his unwanted presence deserves the name of coward." The Knight looked shifty and considerably chastened by Benjicot’s close proximity and the sheer aggression radiating off him. Seeing the Blackwood sigil on the broach fastening Benjicot’s cloak round his shoulders, the Knight gulped at the realisation that it was the formidable future Lord of Raventree bearing down upon him.

"I don't...don't understand your meaning, Ser." He stuttered out, attempting to take a step back, before Benji grabbed him by his cloak, preventing his retreat. "Did you, or did you not lay a hand on Lady Y/N Bracken when she tried to kindly reject your pathetic suit for her hand?" The scoundrel had the audacity to laugh then, making Benjicot's blood boil. "Is that what this is about? Why should you care, Ser? Is she some great friend of yours." He quickly stopped laughing when Benjicot's grip on his collar tightened painfully so as to nearly lift him off the ground. The knight shivered in fear as he saw Benjicot's eyes darken and heard his next words, spoken in a low, dangerous tone. "She means more to me than a spineless lickspittle like yourself could ever comprehend and if I ever head of you approaching or even looking at her again, I will have no hesitation in paying you another visit. I assure you that I will not be so reasonable, in that case."

"I didn't even kiss her, she wouldn’t let me, the minx. She didn't need to go crying about it. I said as much to her at the time. She's just too sensitive, I assure you Ser." Benjicot saw red at the knight's revelation. Of course his lady wouldn't tell him the whole truth. She never wanted to burden anyone with anything that troubled her, not even when someone offered her physical insult. If he had known that this scoundrel had not only attempted to kiss his darling lady without her consent, but also made her cry in the attempt, there would have been not attempt at a 'discussion' with him, 'polite' or otherwise. What followed was not pretty and Benjicott was sure Rob would laugh at him relentlessly for giving into his anger. He was also sure that his friend would agree that this one really did 'deserve it'. Besides, he hadn't hurt him too badly, just enough to be sure that he'd never approach either his, or any other lady with his unwanted attentions again. Drawing his mind back to the present, Benjicott was irritated to see that Rob, the smug git, was still smirking knowingly at him whilst Kermit and Oscar continued to laugh at his lovesick behaviour. No matter, he didn't care what they thought. He only cared what she thought. He couldn't seem to care for much else at this point, his whole thoughts consumed by his lovely lady. Even now a dreamy look transformed his features, which had shown his irritation only a moment before.

"What exactly is your plan here, Benjicot? I hate to break it to you, my good man, but as soon as you despatch one suitor another shall surely raise his ugly head. You can't prevent every suitor from seeking out your fair lady's hand. She will marry some lucky fellow one day." Rob held his hands up placatingly, seeing the danger in his friend's darkening eyes, but he could not help himself from expressing what to him was an unavoidable obstacle to Benjicot's suit for the fair Bracken lady's hand. "I only mean to point out, dear fellow, that removing these suitors now will not help you in the long run. You can't really believe that she would marry a Blackwood, let alone the heir of Raventree." "I'm counting on it." Benjicot spoke through gritted teeth, a look of fierce determination on his face. "She's my girl, in my heart, even if she won't have me in that way. She will be my wife if I have my way and even if she won't, I'll get rid of any problem that bothers her and that I have the power of removing. Whatever it is, I will attend to it. And if anyone hurts her," his voice became cold and low, "I'll kill them. Whenever she needs someone to rely upon, I will be there. Is that clear, Rob?"

Rob smiled softly at his friend then, before shooting a warning look at his two partners in crime, who were barely holding back their sniggers, unused to seeing the usually fearsome Bloody Benjicott act in such a manner. He understood now, where he had doubted before, that his friend was not merely infatuated, but deeply in love with this lady. He couldn't fault him for that, though he questioned the wiseness of his choice. The enmity between the Blackwood and Bracken Houses was no easy thing to surmount, and his friend had a hard road ahead of him if he were to win the love and hand of the lady he had chosen. "Crystal clear, my good man." If his friend was really serious about gaining the love of the mysterious Bracken lady, he would help him if he could.

A day later, Benjicot found himself waiting for his lady underneath their Brackentree, more anxious than usual to see her and convince himself she was well. He could not erase the image of her distress at that brute's behaviour from his mind. A deep sense of sadness and anger on her behalf left him with a painful feeling in the pit of his stomach that she considered herself so little she would not even tell anyone that she had been insulted in such a manner. That she wouldn't tell him. He wanted so desperately for her to see him as someone she could confide in and trust to fight on her behalf for her interests. Just as he was pondering how he could possibly gain her trust in this capacity, the very lady he was thinking of emerged from the tree line into view, a book in hand, as usual.

His face immediately broke into a smile reserved just for her, her presence alone acting like a wave of calm quieting his anxious thoughts. He was delighted to see her return his smile with a gentle smile of her own, even if she shyly cast her gaze elsewhere as he continued to gaze at her. He continued to find this perennial shyness an endearing trait of hers, hoping that it might have more to do with his effect on her than any reservations around him. He was surprised when she tripped lightly up to the tree he resided under and slid down to sit beside him, a smile still on her face. Normally she would seem hesitant to take a seat by his side until he had first stood up to greet her and invite her to. He always hoped that she would grow more familiar and comfortable around him and was elated to see her already seeming to be so.

"Good morrow, my Lady. What has you looking so pleased this day?" To his further surprise, she turned to meet his gaze fully, where she usually avoided direct eye contact, gushing out, "Oh Benji, you will never guess what has happened. It's the most wonderful thing. All of the horrid suitors I was telling you off have stopped their pursuit without me having to do anything. I have never had so much time to read!" "Oh?" Benjicot responded in a wry tone, a single eyebrow raised. "I cannot account for it. Of course my uncle is less than pleased, but he cares too little about me to take too much of an interest. Perhaps my awkward manner frightened them off or someone prettier has taken their interest. Whatever it is, I am most glad of it." She sighed in relief. Benjicot frowned at her last statement. Though he was pleased that she was relieved to be rid of these troublesome suitors, he was anxious to impress upon her that their sudden absence was due to no fault of her own. "I assure you, my Lady, that neither of your suggestions for your suitors' sudden departure are in the least likely, for your manner is positively charming and," he tentatively placed his hand on hers, as he gazed into her eyes, "you are the fairest lady that ever lived."

Unsurprisingly, though much to his dismay, she frowned at his compliment, as she always did and looked almost disappointed in him, before shrinking into herself and retracting her hand. "I wish you wouldn't say jest with me like that Benji, it's not very kind." He immediately snatched her hand back as she retracted it and chased her eyes with his own. "Don't do that, Y/N. Don't hide from me and lock yourself inside your mind. I can see you doing it." She met his gaze at this, looking startled, as if she didn't think he would notice her protective mechanism. He noticed everything about her. He just wished that he would be where she would look to for reassurance and comfort, rather than withdrawing from him. "I need you to understand that I would never jest about what I believe to be absolutely true. To me you are the loveliest, most charming girl, not least because you are so outwardly fair. But it is the beauty of your mind and person that makes me sure you are the fairest lady in the Riverlands." He did not add, Westeros, fearing she may think he was being too grandiose in making such a claim, though he was confident that he was not.

To his relief, she had not run away, as he had half expected her too, already kneeling next to her in case he needed to head tail it after her and make her belief him. He couldn't risk losing her forever if he allowed her to run off this once. Not when it was so important that she finally understood how highly he thought of her, to say nothing of loving her. He didn't think it was safe to risk revealing that when she was already put out with him at a compliment. Better to be safe than sorry and lose his girl because he was too impatient to gush out his love for her and wrap her in his arms. Instead he gently held her chin in his hand, holding her gaze as he invested his voice with a firmness he never usually directed at her. "Please believe me when I say that I have never and will never deceive you. I always mean exactly what I say when I tell you how lovely you are. How much I value your voice. How any measure of time spent with you could never be enough for me." Her head titled quizzically in that adorable way it always did when she was testing the truth of what he said before she offered him a small smile, much to his relief. "Thank you Benji, you are very kind. I'm glad you should think me such a friend and that you enjoy my company...I think the same of you." She added before he finally allowed her to withdraw her head from his hand and look away. He could help the smug smile that made its way onto his features at this, though he wished she would see him as more than a friend.

"No one has ever much cared for what I have had to say. It certainly makes a nice change." She smiled up at him once again. Benjicot gazed down lovingly at her, his eyes aglow with adoration for her, which she, alas, could not see, though it was there plainly for any other observer to see. "You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. It is to others' detriment if they have failed to hear it. Though it is quiet, little mouse," he lightly stroked her cheek, smiling indulgently at her, "I would hear it above a throng of voices." She seemed genuinely taken aback by this, a light blush gracing her features, and he could only hope that the truth of his words had resonated for her.

Not wishing to flustered her too much, he directed his gaze elsewhere. A hard task for him, since he could very happily gaze at her pretty features until the end of his days. He would make this sacrifice to her shyness, however. "In the matter of your disappearing suitors, I suspect a bigger game is at play. Perhaps a more worthy suitor has sought fit to see them off from bothering his fair lady with their suits." He smiled slyly at her from the corner of his eye, trying to silently convey that he was said suitor. "Don't be silly, Benji. What a ridiculous suggestion." She narrowed her eyes at him as he broke out into laughter at her directness. She grabbed his elbow then. "What's so funny Benji!" "Nothing, my Lady. Only I think in this, I may be proven correct, and you may be mistaken. It is an unlikely turn of events, of course, since you are clearly the intellectual in this pair." "You are clearly wrong. I think I would realise if such were the case." She did not hear as Benjicot muttered under his breath, "if only you would."

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[yukimiyum]

ALL ROADS LEAD BACK TO YOU PT. 3 | 2,569 words (~10 minutes reading time). afab!reader (yukki calls reader "woman", uses she/her pronouns), wild sendo sighting, smoking (cigarettes), alcohol, reader pov, penetrative sex, praise, pet names (gorgeous, treasure)

author's notes: oliver isn't really in this one barring reader comparing him to yukki for the most part. building out my own little messy universe here <33 enjoy!

-> taglist: @qichun @mitsuwuyaa @unriding @rhyzoma -> join the taglist!

the flashing lights of the club have long overstimulated you.

you came out tonight to get away from the demons flitting around in your mind. from that last meeting with oliver, you haven’t really been the same, you’ve noticed. you’re looking at your phone less and less. he hasn’t called. why would he?

sendo met you for coffee not long after when they were in town. without oliver knowing, of course.

he’d been so torn up about it, mostly for you. that was his closest friend, and it’s hard watching him ruin everything with someone that he thought would make him see the light, he’d said.

“so…you wanted me to fix him?” you snort out, reaching for the cup on the table and taking a long sip.

sendo’s face is sheepish. “maybe. i don’t know. clearly i don’t fucking know anything.”

you smile, this time genuine. you want to grab his hand, brush your thumb across his knuckles, but it’s better that they stay in your lap. “i know, sendo. i know. i…i wanted it to work. i wanted to fix him and i don’t think i can.”

he shakes his head. “no. i don’t know if anyone can. you shouldn’t go back, either. scare him. make him think he’s lost you.”

“and what if he truly has?” you counter.

sendo’s expression doesn’t change.

“then he has, and he’ll live to regret it for the rest of his life.”

so here you are now. swaying under the flashing lights, your girlfriends around you dancing to the beat of whatever music was pouring out of the speakers, drinks covered just in case. you knew the ubers were in town tonight, playing against some german team you didn’t fully recognize. there was always a chance that you’d see him out, you know that.

but you don’t care.

if he’d cared, he wouldn’t treat you the way he does. and the sex just doesn’t match up anymore, you can’t keep playing this game of cat and mouse. it’s exhausting. it’s something that you refuse to be a part of anymore—sendo’s right. he’ll regret it, and it gives you a sense of righteous rage that fuels your veins.

you decide that’s enough for the evening, waving to your girls that you’re heading home as you grab your coat from the check and step outside, heels clacking on the pavement as you rummage for your cigarettes. it’s a habit you have yet to kick; but drunk cigarettes don’t count, right?

you spark one as you tuck yourself against the wall of the club, feeling the nicotine smooth out your brain as your eyes close—

—and snap back open as you hear someone ask you a question.

“may i?”

you look to your side, and you freeze.

the man standing before you is not oliver, thank goodness. he’s…smoother. taller. leaner. his wide-rimmed glasses perched on his nose make him look so studious as he smiles sweetly at you, bronze eyes glinting in the streetlight’s glow. he’s wearing pretty plain clothes; nothing that screams that he’s a celebrity.

but you’ve seen him before. you just can’t recall from where. maybe a fashion magazine? he looks like a model.

he blinks at you as your gaze racks across his form, and you cough then, fumbling for your pack. “oh, yes, sorry!” you exclaim, slightly slurred from your drinks as you push one out, the man pulling it out with thin, dexterous fingers. he uses your lighter as well, before taking a drag and then leaning on the wall next to you, looking at you inquisitively.

“so,” he says, his voice like molten chocolate, “what are you doing out here on your own? anyone could snatch you up like this, and you’re far too pretty for that.”

your face goes red with embarrassment as you look down at your heels, tapping the fronts on the pavement as you take another drag. whoa. you’d never been complimented like this before, especially not in public, and especially not by oliver in public. oliver never wanted to go out in public, either; but this man just seems like just that. just a man. a nobody. a quiet one.

frankly? your type.

oliver was an outlier for you in what you usually go for; and it felt nice to be admired. especially by someone who looks so…put together.

“i haven’t found anyone who has struck my fancy.” that’s the answer you settle on for now, almost sending an open invite for more flirtation. you enjoy it, the attention; and while you may be being a little naïve allowing a man who bummed a cigarette off you to sweep you off your feet, he seems different. he looks at you with a genuine interest, not like a piece of meat like oliver.

because that’s all you were to him, it seems.

“is that so?” he answers, “well, what is your fancy, if i may ask?”

your thumb lands in your chin in mock thought, the man chuckling next to you deep in his chest. the vibration; you want to hear him do that more.

“oh, you know. sweet. kind. has their shit together. isn’t just going to stick their cock in me and finish in thirty seconds. you know, the bare minimum.” you almost wish oliver had been that bad—it would make remembering him much less depressing and much more comical.

there’s an electric connection between you two, it seems, especially as the man’s eyebrows raise, smoke trailing from his nose as he listens to you. he doesn’t respond initially, and you’re suddenly even more embarrassed as you tug your coat around you more. this is a stranger, for fuck’s sake! “sorry, that was—“

“no. i like a woman who knows what she wants.”

you blink. “you think i know what i want?”

he smirks. “you just told me, didn’t you?”

“but how do you know that’s not just for tonight—“

"does it matter?”

you blink again in shock. “i—i suppose it doesn’t.”

he watches you digest what he said for a moment, before he takes a step forward into your space. he has that quiet commanding energy that oliver has, but…it’s softer. sweeter. disguised. layered, and you want to pick the layers away. in just this short exchange, he’s managed to peak your interest in, what, five minutes? it took oliver weeks to get you over to see him. weeks of pleading, ignoring, and toxicity to get you to break.

you get none of that. and frankly, fuck it. tonight was for you.

“do you…want to come home with me?”

the man’s eyebrows skyrocket above his forehead, higher than they’ve gone, and you immediately backpedal, tossing your cigarette butt into the ashtray next to you. “sorry, that was—that was desperate, i’m really sorry—“

you go to turn away, but a hand brings you back, gently pushing you against the cold wall behind you. his hand remains on your shoulder, but his other lands next to your face. his expression is dark; wanting. needy. his tongue darts out to lick his lips, and you can’t help but look down at it and back up to his gorgeous gaze.

“no, i’ll go.”

you let out a breath of relief. “whew, okay. sorry. it’s my first night out after a breakup, to be honest. i…i don’t think i want to go home alone.”

the man’s eyes crinkle at the edges. “a gorgeous girl like you should never be left alone like that. i can only imagine the failure you must have gone through.”

you hum, biting your lip.

“what’s your name?”

“kenyu. yukimiya kenyu.”

and that's how you end up bent in half on your sofa, kenyu's slim, long cock bullying your cervix so badly that you know you won't be able to walk the next morning.

you let out the most pathetic moan you've heard in a while from yourself, and kenyu's eyes darken, taking you in. he's truly stunning in the lowlight, LED strips in your apartment glancing off of his sweaty skin in deep purples, rich blues, angry reds, calm greens...it's a morphing picture, one you want to emblazon on your brain after this.

"god, you are truly gorgeous, do you know that?" you hear him say so softly, hands digging into the fat of your thighs as he forces you to bend even more, your knees closing in on the sides of your head. you've never been particularly flexible, but it seems kenyu has managed to make you so relaxed that you barely feel a twinge.

"y-yeah?" you whisper, shakily, breathing getting more difficult the more he presses you onto yourself. you have nothing to say back to him, having stolen all the words you wanted to say earlier when he'd backed you up against your countertop, those thin fingers pushing underneath your shirt and against your soft, warm skin from being wrapped in your coat. his lips had found that sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder, immediately sucking on it with a precision that shocked you—rather particular of him, instead of oliver who leaped in to devour you with no care how messy you both got.

"yeah," you hear kenyu say as he looks down at where you two are conjoined, before he leans and presses his lips to your own. his glasses are long gone, having been placed somewhere in the kitchen as he'd kissed you so sweetly and sensually, almost as good as he's doing so now. his lips are so soft, tasting of cherry chapstick, cigarettes, and the wine you'd poured yourself as you'd gotten home and shared. you'd only taken two sips before he'd accosted you against the counter, of course, but nonetheless, the richness of merlot is so strong in his mouth that you can't help but groan into him.

the soft squelching noises from your dripping center force yukimiya into letting out a matching groan into your own mouth. "i could stay in here all night," he whispers against your lips, "all night, wrapped up in you and your beauty. what a treasure you are."

it was like he was worshipping you, granting you the sanctity that you had been due. before, with oliver, you had been nothing but a whore to him, really. it was unfortunate—you thought you'd meant more to him, but you doubted him constantly over it, and he'd shown his true colors by not staying. you deserved more than that, you know that. you deserved someone like this, someone like kenyu, who would stop at nothing to make sure that you knew your worth.

tears begin to prick at your eyes and your eyebrows rise in shock. did getting praise really affect you this much? had you really been depriving yourself so much that you felt...

"what's wrong?"

kenyu's eyes are on you in moments—they'd never left, but now they pick you apart as an analyst might, checking for anything he may have done wrong.

it couldn't be far from the truth.

"i..." you trail off for a moment, pausing as you feel his hand move to cup your cheek, before swallowing harshly, "i've, uh...i've never been spoken to like that before. during sex, i mean." you neglect to mention at all, but that's a story for another day.

kenyu's eyes are unreadable. he doesn't seem angry, or perturbed, or negative. he's...a mystery to you, as he's been all night, not telling you who he truly is or where he's from. he only studies you, cocking his head gently to the side, before the purest smile you have ever seen graces his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he lets out a chuckle.

"my, my, you really have been treated the opposite that you should be, eh?"

you blink, the tears welling in your eyes subsiding out of stunned silence, before you splutter out a "huh?".

he laughs, then, his cock snug within your walls twitching as he does so, which rips a whine from you. he thrusts into you then, rocking into you like the ocean, hands placing themselves on the arm of your sofa as he looms over you.

"then i'm going to make sure you know you're special tonight. if you remember nothing else, remember you are worthy of all of this. you are worthy of more. let me give it to you."

and you let him, without complaint. because who are you, to deny a devout worshipper of something they crave?

the next morning comes, and you awaken to an empty sofa.

blankets are wrapped tightly around you, concealing you from the sun streaming in through your windows as you groan, rubbing at your eyes. the headache forming behind your eyes is aching already, as you blindly reach over to the coffee table, squinting at the items on it that you don't recall placing there before.

a tall glass of water. a bottle of advil. and a note, hand-written.

you down the water quickly, taking three pills with it and sighing as the water soothes the ache in your skull, before picking up the note. your thighs feel sore too—everything feels sore now that you've arisen, and you roll your shoulders, sighing at the crackle of the joints as they re-adjust as you take in the note's contents.

had to leave early—couldn't miss my ride back home. wish i had been here to wake you up, but i left water and some ibuprofen there for you. call me? maybe i can stay over properly next time.

there's a number written out at the bottom, and you chew your lip as you contemplate it, scrabbling for your phone in the recesses of the couch.

on one hand, there's several texts and missed calls from a number that you know deep down is oliver. you swipe away those notifications. he's gone, and you can't let him back in. you can't rip yourself apart like that just for someone who will only see you in the dead of night, especially after you'd had a taste of what a real man is like.

if yukimiya kenyu was a real man. it had felt like a dream, in all honesty.

there's more texts, mostly from your friends, one of which was sent mere moments ago with a news link.

girl, look at this link, omg, who tf did u go home w?????

you blink, opening up the message and clicking the link.

you gasp.

there's a photo of you and kenyu standing outside of the bar. he's caught mid-laugh, with your face (thankfully) blurred out next to him. it must've been when he'd asked you what your type was. you can remember it even in your hungover state; low, rumbling, affectionate. just as he'd been the whole night. the headline beneath it is in huge letters, every word cementing a sense of horror in your chest. you'd never been caught by oliver's paparazzi, and the way you two would meet up was probably something to do with that.

Japanese Heartthrob Yukimiya Kenyu Caught Red-Handed with Mysterious Companion

and it turns out, as you read a little bit further, he was a midfielder on bastard fucking munchen.

"shit."

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

© yukimiyum 2024-2025 | disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works, or use my fics for fodder for AI generation training for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

[krems-chair]

I would give all my critiques (this is a lie) back if at the end of Veilguard we had found out in an extra extra post-Marvel credits scene that it's just been Sandal playing with figurines on the Skyhold war table's map of Thedas all Civil War Buff Dad style.

I wasn't going to do this because everyone deserves to rationalize Veilguard however works best for them, but in the wake of that hilariously dismal end-of-times IGN interview and AMA, I thought I'd share how my best friend and I decided to view Veilguard. Everything below is taken from probably a fifteen minute text conversation we had working through our disappointment together, but by the end we both felt way better about the game.

Picture this. You reach the climax of the game, Solas has freed himself from the fade and is getting ready to cast a really powerful spell and suddenly, out of nowhere, he just gets squished flat and then it immediately cuts to Bodahn in a little fire-lit room saying "Oh Sandal, you crushed another one of the pieces?"

Varric is sitting there alive, well, and BLONDE, and has been playing the whole game with Sandal and says "the kid's got a great imagination." They're all in the home of the Inquisitor.

So how do we get here, you might ask?

*drumroll*

Actually wait no I fear this is going to be long so I'll put a divider thingy in.

So hear me out.

We'll go a year or so after Trespasser. The inquisitor is going through it. Skyhold is still theirs to command because sure everyone and their mother's mother was mad at the Inquisition for taking care of business, but what are you going to do, take their home away? Not if any of the Inquisitor's fiercely loyal friends have anything to say about it (I'm sure Josephine had something worked out to get a title locked down after there being so much uncertainty at Haven, anyway).

So it's become a home base once more, regardless of how intact the inquisition is or isn't under Divine Victoria. Agents are always going in and out, the murals in the rotunda serve as an ever-present reminder of the mission at hand, and Varric visits regularly from Kirkwall to touch base. On one such visit, Bodahn and Sandal accompany him, because they heard there might be a need for enchantments (BOOM).

One night everyone ends up around the map because it's been a rougher week than usual and a game of wicked grace at the tavern just isn't enough, they've gotta treat this like an overdue group project and pull an all-nighter to get SOMEWHERE on tracking down Solas.

Enter Sandal. He's bored, no one is asking him to enchant anything, and Dagna isn't around for them to talk shop (engage in probably illegal/definitely unsafe experiments). And there, amidst the pile of clutter the team has been using when they need to add a new piece to the war table, is a Rook chess piece.

He's seen one before, of course. Varric used to try and teach it to him back in Kirkwall, and Sandal was good in the way that new chess players who go full chaos mode are stellar at driving experienced chess players crazy. His win streak is no joke. So he grabs it, tries to lighten the mood around the war table because no one in a bad mood is going to be requesting enchantments any time soon, and suddenly the tension that's been building up for months starts to ease just a little.

Eventually, everyone gets involved. Much like any great D&D campaign, they fit time in for the adventures of Rook & co in between skrimishes, secret missions, and stressful planning sessions, but that just enables more people to have input.

The Chargers keep making suggestions of all the missions Rook should go on when they pass through, but these all end up becoming Neve's cases.

Bellara was made up by Cassandra who stopped by for a visit from rebuilding the Seekers/wearing her big hat and she was too busy to give anything substantial, but she went with what she knows: a character who loves romance and has a dead brother.

Sera doesn't have the attention span to get too in-depth with it, but she does doodle all over the map of Thedas and add some much needed commentary as the Rook piece moves across it. She also INSISTS that the villains of the story be old and elfy, because they don't get enough representation as villains.

Lucanis loving coffee/it being 75% of his lines comes exclusively from the fact that on the nights they get too invested to stop it's the only thing that keeps them going and he became the character that embodies that particular struggle.

There are so many enchantments Rook can take advantage of because Sandal keeps thinking of new ones he can test with Dagna when she's next around.

Speaking of Sandal again, he tried to kill Varric off in the beginning because he was putting on his author hat and over-narrating. Varric was of course like "wait no why did you kill me I wanted to be part of this" so he keeps interjecting as himself and everyone else is like "shhh you're dead." They only indulge him when they conclude what feels like a major plot point and need someone with an understanding of narrative and pacing to tie all the threads together or give them an idea of where to go next.

The Inquisitor struggles to get into it sometimes because they feel like the weight of the world is on their shoulders yet again. Occasionally, they'll sighs heavily and insert their game piece onto the board (Blackwall carved it, so it's as close s a completely different style can be to their true likeness) to be like "so anyways, THESE are the problems happening in Southern Thedas, in case anyone forgot" only for their message crystal to light up and Dorian's voice to filter through.

"I hear you're working on an astounding number of hypotheticals. Do you think it would be feasible to form an undercover group that works to liberate slaves?"

And then suddenly they spend the rest of the night working through how effective such an organization might be (through Rook's eyes, of course), but because Dorian isn't there to stop them they give him an insane new hairstyle and mention it every time they're giving a description of the Shadow Dragon leader. He is horrified.

Harding gets to be a self-insert because everyone unilaterally agrees that a fictional scout wouldn't hold a candle to her skill level. All the not fleshed out dwarven plot points come from their scrambled theorizing, but it does inspire her to look deeper into the mysterious Kal-Sharok during her real travels.

The reason Morrigan acts so out of character is because they're all like "we have no fucking idea what she gets up to when she isn't saving the world, but we know she'd be there in some capacity."

Leliana is busy busy busy but when she hears about what they're doing and that Morrigan is involved, she finds the time to send a letter saying "let's give her different hair :)"

When Morrigan finds out she brings Kieran for a visit (he missed all of his friends at Skyhold anyway) and is like "seems a most inconvenient waste of time..." and then finds out Leliana is the reason her game piece looks crazy and is like...make a character who is nosy and up in everyone's business all the time but still super reserved and afraid to trust others. (Boom, hi Neve).

Kieran gets really into the story and is critical to designing Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. "She has sooOOoO many arms!" he explains, miming it out over the sound of a muffled voice crystal shaking as Dorian yells "you could've killed me! You could have made me evil! But you made me UGLY?!"

Even the Inquisitor, exhausted as they are, still finds the time to check in and ask if brown-haired Varric is still dead. The answer is always yes.

They all have a good laugh about the idea of Treviso and Minrathous being full of zip lines, but how else are they going to get to the parts they actually care about?

Minrathous gets destroyed instead of Treviso because while they're deciding the stakes for Rook to be faced with, Fenris stops by to check in with Varric because he heard they might need to go to Tevinter. He takes one look at the board and goes "hanging bodies. Everywhere."

"Fenris, that means the venatori will take over."

"...this game is stupid anyway."

Iron Bull definitely said "this story needs a DRAGON HUNTER" so boom. Enter Taash. A Dorian that romanced him sighs heavily and decides to play along if only to get to spend more time with his amatus another way. He models a character after one of his favorite professors from when he was a child.

Solas looks so yassified because the Inquisitor's love interest (or Sera, if they're pining after the Dread Wolf himself) came by and threw his actual war table piece into the fire during a particularly rough evening after his agents thwarted them yet again. To replace him, they let Kieran draw on a spoon and add a new cursed detail every time he pulls some bullshit to try and cheer each other up.

Fenris goes back to Kirkwall and complains about the stupid game Varric is running instead of spending all of his time on saving the world. Merrill overhears and is like "oh! They're incorporating eluvians? That's nice!" until she hears about how many there are and her eye starts twitching.

Harding only dies because everyone over-celebrates when Rook finally gets a win over on the stuffed squid animal being used to represent Ghilan'ain and her game piece topples over. Varric insisted that it be canon because he's tired of being the only dead one.

Blackwall gets Sera to be a little more invested by promising they can make a character together, maybe an elven Grey Warden! She washes her hands of anything too dalish, even though Blackwall makes it clear that there's more to him than that, but insists he should have a loyal griffon friend in honor of his rocking toys.

It's one of the Inquisitor's fondest memories as they prepare to actually find Solas for real, and one of the only unifying threads keeping everyone sane.

[bluejutdae]

Under the surface | Kim Seungmin x you

notes: this is for @chvnmax, cause she deserves a sleeper build Seungmo. Wanna know something fun? I spent 20 minutes on google trying to discover if Seungmin can raise only one eyebrows because ✨credibility✨

Warnings: suggestive.

You left work late and you’re tired, dreaming of a hot bath and the soft comforter on your bed. You have promised Chanbin, though, and there can be multiple things said about you, but you have always kept your promises. So you do what you have to. You send a message to Changbin, informing him you’ll be at the gym in 15 minutes tops, and you send a message to Seungmin, asking how his day was. You only talked to him for 5 minutes in the morning, and that’s not enough Seungmin time for you.

The thing is: you’re crazy about him. He’s your boyfriend, so it’s not weird, but it’s still all so new. So you would love to go directly to his dorm, but you still keep walking towards the gym.

This gym isn’t half bad, it’s clean and bright, there’s never too many people and, when Changbin is not here, the gym instructors are always kind and professional. Today the gym is not too crowded, as usual, and after getting changed into workout clothes you can easily spot Changbin in the room. He’s not alone and it wouldn’t surprise you too much. The surprise lays on the identity of his companion.

Because the fact is that near Changbin, squatting an amount of weight you can’t even start to imagine, is Seungmin.

Seungmin in a tight gray shirt, sweaty and clinging to his back and arms, and black joggers.

He’s mid squat, hands around the barbell, his biceps are bulging and shoulders are bigger than you ever noticed. Despite being together and being attracted to one another, you have never seen each other naked. Seungmin insisted on going slow, to do things properly because when it’s right, you gotta do it right. His words, but you liked the idea of dating and courting, so you had a couple of make out sessions, clothes always on and hands not roaming too much.

Seungmin’s breathy laugh travels to you and a moment later he’s raking his weighted barbell. You might die for a moment: his biceps are to die for and you hyper focus on a drop of sweat descending on his neck.

When the fuck did you boyfriend become a muscular man? You clearly appreciate his lean figure, you like to put your hands on his forearms and caress him, making him shudder and squirm under your ministrations, but this is such a surprise you don’t know what to do. Can you just go there and steal him, apologize to Changbin for abandoning him and take Seungmin with you, hide somewhere and never let him be seen by people? He’s too hot to be left in the wild.

You must have said something or made a noise, because while you’re there ogling your boyfriend, two sets of eyes rest on you.

“Hey, you made it!” Changbin boisterous voice welcomes you, and you smile taking a few steps towards them and in lieu of a greeting, your mind comes up with: “what the fuck Seungmin”.

He wasn’t expecting this, so he bends his head on the side and raises an eyebrow in an inquisitive expression. “Hello to you too, my darling. What a pleasant surprise.”

It’s not a normal behavior and you know it, but you’re transfixed on his arms and your mind provides you with fantasies about his legs and abs and his back and whatever else he might be hiding under his clothes. Almost as an out of body experience, you see your hand reaching to his arms and squeeze.

“Puppy?”

Changbin emits a dry cough, and it seems like it’s moking you, “I forgot something important so I really have to go. I’m sorry guys, we’ll work out together another time, uh?”

Your hands are still groping Seungmin’s arms, but you’re conscious enough to answer him. “Be careful on the way home.”

“I’ll see you later, hyung”, your boyfriend's voice is laced with humor. “Are you done?”

“No.”

“You’re being ridiculous. If you want to grope muscles, you should have took the opportunity while Changbin hyung was still here…”

“I don’t want to grope him!”

“But you want to grope me?”

“Of course.”

His laugh is so pretty it almost distracts you. You still manage to turn your eyes towards his face and smile at him. “Puppy, since when are you muscular?”

“No, no. Let’s not ignore when you said you want to grope me.”

“We’ll circle back to that later.” You finally detach your hands from his arms and poke at his tummy. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He scoffs. “I hid nothing.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t that mean you’re gonna let me see everything?” You know you said you were gonna go slow, but thinking about Seungmin sweaty and his arms bulging made you incredibly horny and a little wet.

“Puppy” he warns, looking around at the gym. It’s true that there’s almost no one, but a couple of trainers and at least three customers are present. You shrug with a wink. But Seungmin hasn’t finished with the surprises tonight, and in a flash he bends at the knees and puts you on his shoulder, your face now staring at his back and your ass in the air. Your response is a loud yelp and a threat.

“Put me down. Put me down or I’m gonna kill you.” Truth is: you didn’t expect Seungmin to be able to lift you like this and if you were only a little wet before, you are scared you’re gonna embarrass yourself if he keeps doing stuff like this. He puts you down only when he reaches the man’s locker rooms.

“Wait here for me, uh? I’m gonna walk you home tonight.” He looks around and, having assessed you’re alone, he kisses you hungrily, nipping at your lips and panting in your mouth.

Later, you’ll ask him to come up to your apartment, you’ll kiss wildly as soon as the door closes behind your backs and, for the first time, you’ll undress him. His shirt will lay on the back of the couch, joggers on the corridor floor. In return, he will get to have you naked too. Clothes scattered on the floor and on some pieces of furniture, it won’t matter tho. What matters is that you’ll make it to the bedroom and, most important, to your bed. He’ll show you how his biceps bulge when he’s over you, torso raised but hips fucking his cock inside you, making you bite your lips to stop the loud noises he’ll try to coax out of you. Later, you’ll worship his body, asking him to flex this or that muscle to lick it or gently nip at it. He’ll tell you about his gym adventures with Chan and Changbin, sometimes Minho, and he’ll promise you can go with them if you don’t act feral and try to get him naked.

Later, but for now you run to grab your bag from the lockers and come back to wait for him. Who would have thought your boyfriend had a sleeper build?

[isaidyoulookshitty]

idk it is so upsetting to me that veilguard is the first dragon age game i won't be replaying. when i was 15 i played origins so many times (almost a dozen) it is one of the only games i have ever 100% finished. da2 was the same! and while i didn't make it through as many playthroughs of inquisition i put hundreds of hours into it and made an effort to get to the bottom of everything the game threw at me. until veilguard, i had bought every available dragon age dlc for all games, tried to play almost every route given in the story choices, and spent hours reading through codex entries to soak up as much lore as i could.

veilguard has rendered all of that completely null.

it feels almost spiteful at this point that this new frakenspliced bioware cared so little to honor the bones and meat of the first three games. 15 years i have spent loving and cherishing (and criticizing) this franchise and now i feel like a fucking idiot for it. my grey warden? canonically awol and never addressed again. hawke? irrelevant and, for some players, potentially stuck in the fade forever. inquisitor? stripped of any complexity or depth i had given her in favor of the most syrupy, out of character fairytale true love's kiss ending with a man that shattered her worldview and broke her heart. how do you take 10 years to craft an ending this dissatisfying and thoughtless?

and the world i spent a decade and a half fighting for, shaping with player choices, and calling home? gone. "overwhelmed by the blight." literally scorched earth for the next game to build on with whatever the writers pull out of their ass to make players forget all about the original dragon age. it's tragic! disrespectful to longtime fans at best, at worst it feels intentional and like i am being made the butt of a joke told by writers who in the promotional material sound like they could not even be assed to play the games they're attempting to draw from. veilguard is just a product to be sold, not a story worthy of The Dragon Age Setting.

and i haven't even touched on all my gripes with the game's writing, the sanitization of any canon conflict that could be uncomfortable or difficult to address, the stale and cutesy therapyspeak and lessons in basic morality that are baked into every in-game interaction (most of which are shallow and all the same anyways) compared to the dialogue trees from the other 3 games. it is so frustrating to see that the devs chose to cave to a decade of vitriolic fandom politics in favor of addressing the kettle they wrote themselves into.

instead of hand-waving racism toward elves, the panic over qunari, the isolation of the dwarves, the corruption of the chantry, the abuse in the circles of magi, and slavery in tevinter, we should have been given the chance to confront all of it. to put a real end to it. we will never get to do that now. in fact, in their failure to follow through, bioware has only succeeded in exacerbating all of these issues. they have made the elves, which they have openly ADMITTED were "inspired" by Jewish and indigenous peoples, their mouthpiece for white guilt and shame passed down from one's ancestors (while also gutting elves' religion, culture, history, social differences, etc. i could go on). they PERPETUATE the same stereotypes of barbarity, violence, and warmongering imposed on the qunari by the rest of thedas by continuing to make them an opposing enemy force with the exception being a couple of friends they have neatly packaged for us. the unsatisfying conclusion to the mage-templar schism in inquisition is inconsequential. who the player chose to HEAD THE SOUTHERN CHANTRY as divine is deliberately made irrelevant. the dwarves are still isolated and ignorant of their origins save for harding (assuming she doesn't end up killed) and a single closed-off group. and the slaves in tevinter (again, mostly elves)? conveniently kept out of sight and conversation when we finally get to minrathous. everything that happened to fenris to make him the character he is, arguably the most impactful and sympathetic out of all the da2 companions, is not even addressed, much less tackled. all of it is swept under the rug.

i wanted dragon age: dreadwolf. i wanted a solid conclusion to a story almost 20 years in the making. a dragon age reboot might even have been a great idea somewhere down the line, but this was not the game to do it with. it was supposed to be a sequel and they couldn't even get that right. did i enjoy parts of it? of course! i finished it! but i won't be doing it again. the game clearly intends you to, considering a significant portion is locked away by decisions players are forced to make pretty early on, but i can't make myself do it. it makes me way too sad.

i could go on about how i, a queer and nonbinary adult fan, thought their handling of gender and LGBTQIA+ identities was heavy-handed, infantilizing, and felt so out of place within the setting it makes easy fodder for the "woke=broke" crowd that wouldn't have been receptive to queer rep anyway, but that would need to be another post in itself. not to mention the romance! unfortunate that i chose to romance lucanis not knowing his is now notorious for a lack of content, meaningful dialogue, pacing, and actual development. i won't even get to see the other romances in comparison because, as i have said, i will not be replaying.

[joudama]

And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).

My four Rooks:

Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face

Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger

Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor

Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.

My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.

And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.

I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.

Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.

By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)

Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.

This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:

Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.

When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.

And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.

Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.

Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. Detonations were very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks unless their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.

As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just did are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.

Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.

Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the companion loyalty quests and the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.

And speaking of following templates…

Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.

Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.

Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.

The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.

And we can all see how well that turned out.

The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.

The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)

OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.

[generalluxun]

I Can Destroy Anything

Chloé Goes back in time AU- Final Character Study for now!

Does the Phoenix know there is life after the flames?

Chloé Bourgeois lost. She lost everything. She sat in that plane, her life and her ‘self’ in ruins. Now she is back, back in time to the moment it all began. A chance to try again?  Try what? She believes she tried everything. Heroism, domination, gifts, threats; be like ladybug. Be like Audrey. Be like Daddy. Nothing worked. Her world crumbled one piece at a time. There is no ‘do over’ because what would she even do?

She was a spiked ball, rolling this way and that. People would push her, manipulate her, handle her. The only time anyone reached past the spikes, the only time she ever opened up …on a lonely rooftop… was the last time she was allowed to wear a Miraculous without trading her free will. That was obviously the wrong thing to do too.

So she’s angry, and with nothing to turn it on. A petty victory against an unpracticed Cat Noir turns to sawdust instantly. He was her only friend, someone who had apparently abandoned her for another long before she even knew.

Now she holds destruction in her hands, and it feels like home. She is already a waste, useless, worthless, unexceptional, unimportant, unwanted. She is a failure at everything… but now she can show others that she is not the only one. She might be nothing, but what are they if they lose to nothing? Less than nothing!

She can break, and break, and break, and there is a fleeting release with each new destruction. She begins with the thing closest at hand, herself. If she will fall, she can throw herself onto the rocks first. If she must feel pain she can wrest the smallest of control back by being the cause of that pain.

Yet anger is not an emotion that turns to silent self destruction. It is an active force that burns and consumes all that is around it.

Chloé has a Miraculous.  She will be a hero. She hates heroism. She hates it, but she will do it better than Ladybug; better than anyone. She will push and push and push. She will burn the candle at both ends until there is nothing left.

She can’t see anything past the flames.

Luckily, she is not alone. There is a second chance here. There is a second chance for others to see. There is a second chance for those who were heroes of one sort, to be heroes of another. There is a chance for caring and determination to push past the spikes and reach the person inside.

Will it work?

Already Nino is more aware of Purrge than he ever was Queen Bee. Alya’s inquisitive mind is piqued to this curious unknown hero. Ladybug is forced to interact with someone without holding all the cards. Plagg… is Plagg.

He cares about his kittens.

What can destruction do though? Destruction ends lives. Destruction tills soil. Destruction topples buildings.  Destruction breaks down barriers. Destruction consumes. Destruction prunes.Destruction snuffs out health and disease in a single stroke. The forest fire sparks new life. The flood lays down silt for a new harvest.

Which will it be? What will come. Is her truth a destiny or a fate?

‘I can destroy anything.’

@zamauta You asked, here it is!

[crossdressingdeath]

Solas: Your team trusts you, and you listen to them. It is impressive... and enviable. It took me centuries to build such a bond during my rebellion. And when I served the Inquisition, I tried to avoid such entanglements.

Well you see the trick is that Rook actually listens to their team.

That really is one of the biggest differences between Rook and Solas: Rook listens. Solas mostly lectures, you see that in both DAI and DAV. He wants things to be how he wants them and he doesn't much care about what other people might think or about what's best for them (see him refusing to tell Lavellan the truth about who he is before entering a relationship with her in DAI and robbing her of the chance to make an informed decision about whether she's okay with dating the villain of her people's mythology, even though he very obviously knows how badly it will hurt her to learn the truth later when it's too late to change what the two of them were). He's quite happy to do his utmost to manipulate people into thinking the way he does (see the conversation pre-Weisshaupt in DAV where he keeps dragging Rook back to the question of how they intend to deal with the siege until they answer how he wants them to, forcing them into agreeing that they'll do "whatever it takes" no matter how many plans they have so that he can claim the two of them are similar) and when you notice the tricks... well, it's hard to ignore, and that would be the case in-universe as well as out of it. Meanwhile Rook just very genuinely cares about their team's well-being. You can play it as a largely pragmatic belief that the team will work better when their problems are dealt with—although never completely; Rook being a decent person who cares about others is kind of hardwired into the premise of the game (which, because this fandom is How It Is, I feel the need to point out is not a bad thing)—but ultimately Rook is focused on what's best for the team when interacting with them, not what they want the team to be. So of course the Veilguard grows to trust (and genuinely love) Rook much faster than Solas's followers, past or present, ever came to trust him! Rook cares about their companions and allies both as part of their team who'll do better work if their needs are met and as people who they want to help; part of the reason why Rook has to genuinely care is that it's one of the things differentiating them from Solas. They see the people around them as people, and not just pieces on the board; that's why their allies are willing to go so far for them and why they don't have to be tricked or even ordered into sacrificing themselves for Rook and their aims. Rook isn't just respected as a leader or seen as better than the alternative the way Solas is, they've earned true love and loyalty from the people around them by always offering it in return. And it's honestly tragic that Solas never looks past his own preconceptions to see that.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Nancy gets back with Jonathan not too long after. He barges in and makes a beeline straight for Steve. “You know where Will is?”

Steve nods. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you’d better start soon.”

Robin, his savior, steps in. “C’mon, Jonny-boy, let’s go for a walk.” She leads him outside, and Steve can hear her start. “What do you know about time travel?”

He smiles and looks around. He can hear Eddie upstairs, practicing the song. The boys are occupied with planning, Nancy’s looking over Mike’s shoulder, and El’s watching him with big brown eyes. He focuses on her and lets his smile grow. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

Her eyes widen a little, but she nods. “What are we making?”

“Probably sandwiches,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure what else I have. Can you find the bread in the pantry? And there’s butter knives in that drawer over there, we’ll need two.” He winks. “One for you, and one for me.”

She does so, and he pulls out the condiments and lunch meats, as well as the jelly. “And the peanut butter, if you can find it,” he calls from where his head’s stuck in the fridge. He looks around for anything else he might need and grabs the pickles before closing the door.

“Y’know the best part about making dinner?” He asks her, impish grin growing on his face. She hums inquisitively. “We get to make ours first and eat while we make the rest.”

She giggles and accepts the high five he holds out.

They get to work assembling sandwiches. She pauses, mayonnaise slathered halfway onto a piece of bread. “Steve?” He hums. “I’m scared.”

He sighs and puts down his knife. “I am too, El. Terrified, if you can believe it. But I have faith in us. I know we can do it.” He wipes his hands off and rounds the counter, taking her hands in his. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life. Even stronger than Vecna. And this time he won’t know we’re coming. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side, and we will defeat him. We’ll find Will and Barb, and after this we’ll never have to worry about it again.” He strokes a hand over her head and sighs. “There’s something else, too. I know where Papa is.”

She pulls back, eyes wide, posture stiff. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m not going to take you back there. Ever. Okay?”

She nods hesitantly, but allows him to pull her closer again. “I was going to ask if you want us to take care of him,” he murmurs. “Lock him inside and set the building on fire, or something.”

She shakes her head. “He loves me!”

“Oh, El,” Steve whispers. “I thought the same thing of my parents for a long time. No matter how mad they got, how much they yelled, how much they hurt me… they said it, so it must be true, right? They must love me. I must be the problem.” He shakes his head. “That’s not love. You fear him, El, and for good reason. He made you into what you are, but you never asked for this, and it’s okay to be angry about it.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, and he sighs. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he murmurs. “If the answer is still no, that’s okay. But if you change your mind, that’s okay, too.”

She nods, steps out of the hug. He lets her go, feeling like he’s almost knocked a vase off a table. His heart’s still thumping oddly, eyes wide, scared to make the wrong move.

But then she looks up at him and offers him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says. “I know the way you treat me is different from how Papa treats me. I do not know yet if they are simply different forms of love or if you are right. I think you are, but…”

“You need to see for yourself,” Steve nods. Moves the metaphorical vase back from the edge of the table. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help prove it.”

“I will,” she says, and picks up her butter knife again, spreading mustard onto a piece of bread. He goes back to his side and smiles at her.

“Steve?” She asks after a second. “When my hair grows back. What does it look like?”

He thinks for a second. “It’s fluffy,” he says. “Very soft and light. Like cotton candy.” He puts his head to one side. “Floofy,” he decides, and grins.

She giggles. “Like you!”

He opens his mouth to tell her no, she’s wrong, except… he can’t. “Yours is even more beautiful,” he tells her. “And kids in school nicknamed me ‘the Hair’. That’s how famous this was.” He tilts his head her direction, and a lock of hair falls in his face. He splutters and shakes his head, grinning when she laughs again.

“I am very glad you came back, Steve,” she says suddenly, seriously, a little at odds with the smile still quirking her lips up.

His heart breaks and mends all in the same second. It feels like absolution. “Me too,” he says, and means it.

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[in-your-heart-shall-burn]

Veilguard Character Appreciation: Lace Harding

As mentioned on my Emmrich, Taash, Davrin, Lucanis, Bellara, & Neve posts, this is a very self indulgent post for me to ramble about things that I appreciated about the companion characters in Veilguard. This is the last one - they all loosely followed the prompt order of Veilguard Appreciation Week. Please feel free to reply or reblog with your own thoughts if you are so inclined c:

Harding was in a strange place from the beginning, because she was someone we already knew from Inquisition. I was definitely excited to see her - if I had to pick one (non-companion) person from Inquisition that I wanted to see in Veilguard, it definitely would've been her (or maybe Krem, but he was an impossibility for world state reasons :(...)

It was particularly exciting to me to see Harding, because it's in such a different context. In Inquisition, she was your employee, the source of a small infodump about an area and maybe one or two personal anecdotes. In Veilguard, she was going to be her own person, and you'd get to know her on a completely different level.

And wow, did she ever shine. It's amazing how coherent of a character she is between Inquisition and Veilguard, considering how little we saw of her in Inquistion. She's still sweet, and cheerful, and funny, and caring, and interested in the places that you visit. She's also a horrible people-pleaser, and is filled with rage, and fear, and betrayal, and sorrow, both for herself and for her people.

And yet, she still consistently shows how she cares about getting her job done right, and protecting people while she's at it. I mean, even from the very first cutscene you meet her in, she's being a protector, even when it wasn't necessarily asked of her. And I just love how she contains so many multitudes, that somehow manage to slot so perfectly with the tiny glimpse we received in Inquisition.

She's being faced with something that is unprecedented - being the first dwarf with something that's effectively magic, as far as she's aware. She's throwing herself at a cause she's been essentially working at tirelessly for a decade. She's learning about the horrible atrocities that were committed against her people, directly by someone who she passed by frequently for months, even spoke to.

She has a right to be mad. And she shows how she's mad, but she also shows compassion, both through the decision that can be made in her companion quest and also each quest beforehand. She rarely thinks of herself, and instead about how she can help, what she can do, how she can be useful, and it shows in everything she does.

But she still carves a space for herself in the Lighthouse. She learns everything she can about her powers, and Isatunoll and what it means. She builds a place for her to learn and grow and change, evidenced by the life that she breathes into her room at the Lighthouse, the way that her powers change, the way that her attitudes change - as her confidence grows, and she grows with it.