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laufeyamp · 3 years ago

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President Loki SFW Alphabet

HEADCANON SERIES. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- SFW Alphabet, Part 1, Part 2

PAIRING. president!loki x gender neutral reader WORD COUNT. 4.318k TEMPLATE BELONGS TO caitlinpotter & slightly ib spilledkauffie TAGLIST. @queen-of-elves

THIS WORK CONTAINS fluff, mentions of sex

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The self-absorbed and arrogant presidential nominee is just as affectionate and touch starved as every other Loki variant in existence. He may resist his urges to pull you close to him at the first couple of weeks, but after confronting his newly experienced emotions with you and having your consent, he wouldn’t hesitate to share physical intimacy with you at any given opportunity, especially in front of his subjects and variant L1130. He would have you on his lap during meals, kissing the back of your hand or your features briefly, spontaneous hugs from behind, holding your hand when you’re seated across the table, etc. Literally any form of physical contact would satisfy his neediness.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Horrible. He’s a walking red flag but that’s okay because red is my favourite colour and he would definitely backstab you at some point. It’s just in his nature and a very toxic trait of his, that’s literally why he doesn’t have any friends except Mobius. He has a soft spot for that TVA agent and it’s actually understandable as Mobius knows Loki better than you do, truth be told. President Loki actually wants to befriend him but oh well, he got pruned with his unacceptable attitude and behaviour shortly. The president got wildly enthusiastic and inquisitive when you told him about Mobius getting pruned prior to variant L1130 and he wanted to send his army to kidnap him all because he wanted to have a small reunion with him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

President Loki absolutely loves cuddles but he barely ever initiates them with his huge ego. It totally depends on the circumstances, the level of necessity and how desperate he is for that physical contact. For the first few weeks, he’d even act like he despises them so much that he’d warn you to not cross the boundary he had set with a bolster, dividing the bed into two equal areas like a child. And guess what, he ends up having his limbs entangled with yours anyways and gets teased for it. Positions don’t really matter to him as long as he gets to be in your arms, but his tops would always be spooning and the honeymoon hug. He really likes being the little spoon which he never admits.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

For someone who craves attention and adoration from the public, President Loki has never really given thought to settle down, so expect him to take you on the craziest adventures on seeking that sort of life and authority he wishes to share with you. He isn’t exactly unfamiliar with cooking but not an expert either, he knows how to make snacks for his teatime and supper due to lesser pampering compared to Thor which led him to pick up numerous survival skills. He’s absolutely terrible at housework though, normally he’d have the maidens or his subjects do them instead since he breaks everything in sight and gets super frustrated with cleaning devices invented on Midgard. Regardless, he would never ask you to do them.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In all honesty, I don’t think there’s any possibility of this occurring as your profound bond only strengthens with every minute spent. Trust me when I say that this has never once crossed his mind, not when he finally has this wave of serotonin surging through him whenever he’s with you and has someone solely meant for him after a millennium or more of being alone. The only thing tearing you apart would be death since you’re not immortal. It’s one of the reasons why his rationality attempts to stop him from getting emotionally attached which obviously failed miserably. He knew it’d break his heart to watch you age as each year passes, until the day you’ll depart this life and leave permanently. Nevertheless, he wants you so desperately that he’s willing to pay the price of love that tragically follows ─ grief.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As a candidate of a presidential election who thirsts for subjugation and is engaged in efforts intended to increase his voter turnout, he’s never really considered marriage, children and blablabla. It’s always remained the same even after he got pruned, where his main focus switched to seizing control of Kid Loki’s throne, claiming rule over the Void instead. Fairly familiar with his personality and mindset, you’ve never rushed him or brought up a serious discussion about further commitment. Things started changing ever since he overheard one of the nosy neighbours questioning you about it, witnessing how you shrugged off awkwardly in response. It reminded him of your short-lived lifetime as a mortal which dismayed him a bit and had him wondering if he’s supposed to take further action.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

President Loki is capable of being tender despite his kinks and fetishes in bed, in addition to his callousness towards his subjects. He wouldn’t want to wound his fragile little doll by accident and hence, he never manhandles you without your consent. After going through so much for the past thousand years, he’s pretty tough emotionally. There were times when he’d reach his breaking point which he refuses to reveal to anyone. And you wouldn’t question a word about it, but just offer him your company and hold him in silence instead.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He really loves hugs and he could never go off a day without having his arms wrapped around you. It’s a little coping mechanism of his truthfully, now that you’re his home. He never admits how comforting it is with the warmth radiating off of you and how secure your arms make him feel though, not that his pride would ever allow him to. He’s quite initiative with hugs which eventually becomes something you’d tease him about whenever he pulls you into his arms, praising how embraceable and warm you feel against his cold frame. But of course, you still knew when to stay silent and just let him hold you for as long as he desires, assuming that he probably needs it more than anything at the moment.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It took him months to acknowledge that this particular emotion freshly experienced by him is called ‘love’ and it took all of him to enunciate the phrase itself he’s never once used. From that moment onwards, he’d always use it to assure you of how his devotion towards you is undying and how much you mean to him. He wouldn’t really make his “I love you” fast unless it’s in an exceptional situation like having his breath ragged. And as the sweet partner he is, he'd even make his “I love you” come off really poetic sometimes!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Perhaps it’s because of his past traumas and lack of familial love which resulted in him being immensely insecure, he gets very jealous as soon as he sees anyone flirtatious approaching you, especially variants of his own. No creature in the Void had the nerves to harm or fancy you for the excruciating consequences and agonizing torment which awaited. The last time you tried to provoke him by getting unnecessarily close with variant L1130 (which succeeded), he straight up told him that the both of you fucked although you weren’t in a proper relationship yet. He literally did everything in his power to address you as his. During your stay on Midgard, he certainly didn’t fail to catch a glimpse of the mortals’ lustful gazes roaming across your body. President Loki would get physically intimate with you, keeping his palm on your body. He actually wouldn’t even mind taking you right there and then if you allowed him to. He may or may not have murdered a couple of them who ignored his grimace and refused to back off even under his menacing glare, truth be told.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Full of passion, whether it’s a rough kiss, quick peck or an amorous one. There’s something about the way his lips brush against yours rhythmically, the unique form of energy passing through that connection. It doesn’t just remind you of how much he adores and yearns for you, but also how every inch of you rightfully belongs to him and all that you’re worth. I think President Loki is the type of guy who loves kissing your thighs, hands and lips. He also genuinely loves kissing body parts and physical flaws you’re constantly insecure with, it’s sort of an act of reassurance of his. Being utterly aware of how impactful these littlest insecurities could be, he wishes to show you how divine you are to his eyes. Meanwhile, he loves receiving jaw and neck kisses. He never knew how much he enjoyed them until you were seated on his lap whilst he was analyzing items collected across the Void, kissing and licking his jaw and neck, practically begging for his attention. Apart from that, he finds forehead kisses from you extremely reassuring, especially when you’re cuddling and he’s the little spoon.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Depends on whom do the children belong to. The mischievous prankster definitely pulls harmless tricks on the neighbours’ kids as his little revenge for ruining the tranquil dates at home with all of the intolerable screaming and wailing. So expect Halloweens to be a total disaster. It’s actually undeniably embarrassing as you end up receiving complaints the next morning, referring to Loki’s behaviour as immensely immature and foolish. You’d nag him a bit about it, but it’s who he is and what makes him the God of Mischief, ya’ know? On the other hand, if they were children of his own, he’d absolutely spoil them with equal love. He may not be a virtuous man but years of receiving lacked fatherly love surely enlightened him on how to nurture a child appropriately. And apparently, he’s incredibly great with children when he chooses to be with his amusing tricks and stories. You discovered it when the both of you were asked to look after one of the neighbour’s five-year-old daughter whom he surprisingly favours (you assumed it was because of how quiet and polite she is).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Back in the days stranded on the Void, you’d still get to sleep in, nuzzle against his bare chest as he refuses to let you go. However, life after the escape was completely different, especially since he held a government office eventually. President Loki’s work hours are quite irregular from all of the meetings and his only day off is on Sunday when the both of you finally get to relish mornings with one another. It’s not exactly pleasant with the neighbours’ children’s insufferable squeals and stomping up and down the stairs, but it was great. Notwithstanding his persistent attempts of persuading you to stay in bed and have the rest you required, you’d creep your way out of his arms to prepare him breakfast afore he sets off to work. Ordinarily, he’d be ready and well dressed, rushing down the stairs with his lounge coat and silk tie hanging across his shoulders. Breakfast would be nearly ready and he’d greet you with a kiss on your cheek, a hug from behind or both. There were a couple of occasions when he would oversleep on purpose and consequently you’ll have to go wake him up. Instead of panicking about being late, he’d groan and pull you into his arms, taking another day off.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Pillow talks are a must. Being the commander of an army in a space known to be the end of time and later on, portraying the role of someone important involved in a political campaign, the amount of time President Loki was able to spend with you was extremely limited with his hectic schedule. He couldn’t help but constantly feel guilty about it, viewing his efforts in making up to it as wholly inadequate despite your reassurances. It could be a conversation up to hours about anything in the world, added up with lots of chuckles, pampering, kisses and cuddles (shingles position/sweetheart’s cradle position/’pillow talk’ position). He’d even touch your cheek or rest his palm on your hip spontaneously which is super adorable. This is what makes him look forward to night times to be honest, literally the best way to end his exhausting days.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It took him a year or more to open up to you as he fears that you might not be the one he considers you to be, agitated if you’d really accept the true him filled with flaws. There were so many missed opportunities when he wanted and could have just spilled it all at once, but he didn’t. He either didn’t know where to start or the words would just get stuck in his throat and you gave him all the time he needed, reassuring him that he doesn’t have to talk about it. President Loki’s true heritage as a Frost Giant and all the childhood traumas wasn’t exactly a secret after coming across with countless versions of him. In fact, you’ve seen his true form from a different Loki variant and he looks hot not gonna lie, you’ve just never told him that. He was very insecure about how he appeared to be the first time he showed you his Jotun form, instantly regretting his choice despite trying to conceal his anxiousness. Meanwhile, you were trying so hard to not get lost in his crimson eyes or fall even harder for him if that’s even possible. And he tells you everything that night.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Very, I feel like he’s that type of boyfriend who goes “I hate everyone but you”. So when it comes to you, he’s extra patient and tries to control his temper instead of just brushing you off like how he does to everyone else. And even if President Loki’s patience is wearing thin, he would never lash out or raise his voice at you. He’d just stay silent and go have some fresh air or take a drag at the balcony to calm himself down and think straightly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Look, he may be forgetful with his tasks from time to time, but he remembers as long as it’s something related to you because you’re important. He takes notes on everything you’ve said, notices the littlest habits you might not even know you have and remembers them. It's quite surprising as you’ve never really expected him to remember this much, knowing that he has his responsibilities and a lot on his plate.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Every second spent with you has always been delightful as it reveals these new parts of him he never knew existed, leading him to contemplate his future plans and arrangements involving a spouse. It leaves him inspiring with awe of how someone could make him feel so many positive emotions, replacing his endless pit of worthlessness and emptiness. The night you both confronted your true feelings towards each other was the best night he’s ever had. It’s the first time he felt like he wasn’t alone anymore, that he deserves love and peace, someone he could call his in his life too. Most importantly, he felt wanted and worthy of someone, unlike the past thousand years he’s spent feeling like he’s never gonna be good enough for the people he loves.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

100% protective towards you. It’s hard not to be constantly worried about your safety with his enemies across the Void, Alioth consuming everything in sight and his protestors on Midgard. And being kidnapped and held hostage by his enemies didn’t help put him at ease. Back in the Void, he made you promise him to always ask for his permission before leaving the base and to return within five hours or else he’ll take it as a sign that you’re in danger. He’d send one or two of his subjects to be alongside you too, just in case anything happens. After moving into your new home on Midgard, he takes safety measures such as installing an alarm system, security cameras and even casting spells to shield the house from all sorts of destruction. He may seem overprotective at most times, but that’s simply because he loves you dearly and he’s literally willing to die for you. In reverse, he doesn’t really like being protected, truth be told. He wishes to be the roof sheltering you as he feels like it’s his responsibility to keep you safe and sound.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries and gifts?)

It could be your usual weekend date, an anniversary celebration, a special day meant for lovers, literally anything as long as it’s an appointment with you, he would pour plenty of effort into it. He would take you to fancy restaurants for the most romantic meal and lavish you with overpriced gifts and costly pieces of jewelry. Not that you were unappreciative but it really is unnecessary albeit it came with great intention in which he only wanted to impress you and give you the best there is to offer. He loves you a lot, but he seems to always forget that you love him just as much and you’re way past materials. He’d take you on simple dates too, where the both of you could have some peace together, free from all sorts of disturbances. If this was the case, he’d probably take you on a visit to the national library, have a little stroll through the art museum, a short vacation at the beach when it’s not as crowded, stargazing in parks, etc. It’s a really long list especially since you’re his first love and he can’t wait to do everything with you!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Hear me out, I personally headcanon that President Loki smokes. He picked up this really bad habit in the course of his stay on Midgard during the presidential election but stopped for a time being after he was pruned. Well, he doubt if there were any cigarettes over the Void as survival supplies were scarce. You learnt about his addiction after the both of you made your escape from the Void to Midgard. It was just the second week since you’ve moved into the new luxurious terrace house the both of you had rented when you noticed the cigarette smell engulfing him just as he returned from work; how dissimilar his lips tasted against yours; the pack of cigarettes and lighter laid on the coffee table in the living room. He’s not obsessive to the point where he’d have an excessive amount of it a day, he only takes a drag to relieve stress. Though, he avoids smoking around you as secondhand smoke is dangerous to your health if inhaled, doesn’t matter if you’re a smoker or not.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It’s actually quite evident that President Loki tries to keep his very-sexy-president image all the time, you could literally tell from how neatly and stylishly dressed he is among the rest of his variants. Sure there were some small tatters here and there which is understandable with the dreadful conditions in the Void, but he looked fairly delectable nonetheless and his charisma made up most of it. Like I mentioned, he’d even wear his headpiece to sleep and remain his perfect look with his magic.. But his concern diminishes as time passes and little does he knows that you find him just as alluring with his tousled locks, his raspy morning voice, not to mention the possible scars left on account of the rough times spent in the Void and past conflicts encountered.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Now that he’s found someone this significant and worthwhile to him, yes. It wasn’t really noticeable at first since the both of you were inseparable in the Void (his protective ass would never let you leave him for more than five hours anyway) until he had to leave New York City for a week due to job purposes. The business trip was unexpectedly tormenting with his mind dwelling on moments you shared and his eyes glued on your pictures saved in his electronic device. It felt like a piece of him was missing and he missed you terribly that his chest would physically ache at the slightest thought of you. He’d wonder what you were doing at the moment, if you’ve had your meals or hydrated and most importantly if you missed him too. It takes him everything to resist his urge to teleport himself back home immediately and just be in your arms once again. Furthermore, I feel like he would absolutely video call and text you 24/7, expect lots of random selfies from him too!

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

President Loki is a huge fan of pizza (yes im only saying this because im obsessed with pizzas and idrk who isn’t, sorry to non-pizza lovers reading this), he’d call it the best invention in history of Midgardian food he’s ever devoured. Frankly, he didn’t really like it at first since his first time having pizza with his fellow assistant before he got pruned was absolutely horrible and it left him a really bad first impression on it. Nevertheless, seeing that you wanted to have one as your first proper meal after your escape, he followed without a word. The moment you learnt about his hatred towards this magnificent creation, you literally couldn’t stop complimenting on how scrumptious it is and he would knit his brows with his lips pursed in repellence. As soon as your pizza arrived, he had no choice but to give in and take a bite under your convincement. And surely, he instantly fell in love with it and you ended up ordering a pepperoni pizza for him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like in general?)

A Thor fangirl and Loki cosplayers which are quite self-explanatory. That look of disgust plastered across his face whenever he encounters one of them is priceless. He wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate his brother by telling the Thor fangirls stories of when they were children or throw offensive insults regarding his brother. It’s actually pretty hilarious and you’d ask him to tell you more of those stories when you’re having your pillow talks. It’s true that President Loki loves his own fanbase who faithfully supports him, whether it’s because of his actions or looks. However, there’s one thing that he would never tolerate ─ cosplayers. Having to deal with multiple versions of himself was a complete nightmare and meeting mortals dressed up exactly like him, mimicking his tone and elegance inaccurately in public was the last thing he’d expect. He’d seen them over various social platforms under his hashtag and the majority of them were undeniably creative, but he just couldn’t stand it. He corrected a Loki cosplayer he came upon once and got into an argument with them, nearly getting arrested for it. And one more thing, he’s not fond of noise either which is why the neighbours’ children drive him up the wall.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Asides from only being able to slumber when you do (unless if he’s worn out), President Loki isn’t one to snore loudly or drool but hogging the sheets late at night could be quite exasperating. Come to think of it, it’s a rather strange sleeping habit of his as his Jotun form should enable him to withstand low temperatures. There was this one morning when you woke up with a runny nose, unfortunately catching a cold since your lover had unconsciously stopped cuddling you and snatched the sheets, again. It was drizzling rain and chilly that night, worse luck. And even if he didn’t mention a word about it, you could tell that he felt guilty and he was certainly blaming himself for you falling ill. Of course, you’d wrapped your fingers around his hand and reassure him that it’s alright. He took a couple of days off to look after you and that was when he disclosed his hidden talent in making snacks that you savoured. Thenceforth, he promised to make you his secret snack recipes more frequently during his leisure. After fully recovering, he insisted to install a heater in your shared bedroom and make sure that he cuddles you tightly every night.

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SYD .ೃ࿐ Reblogs and interactions are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading.

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quillinthedas · 2 years ago

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Dwarves and Magic in Dragon Age

SO I am a devotee of dwarves in pretty much any media that provides them, and Dragon Age is no exception. My most canon-y Warden and Inquisitor are both dwarves, and the greatest sadness of DA2 is that I have to play a human, which I would never play if literally any other race is an option.

I am also deeply fond of stabbity rogues, because I love the speed and the skill set in real-time battle play. So both Warden Commander Natia Brosca and Inquisitor Mahliel Cadash are duel-wield rogues.

The PROBLEM is that, especially in DA:O, abilities in the general rogue tree really act like magic. And in DA2, the more you fight Carta assassins, the harder it is to explain their speed and invisibility skills without magic being involved, even if provided by potion or bomb.

So I have my own little pet theory of how dwarves have abilities that APPEAR magical but AREN’T. Instead, they are based in the “stone sense” that Surface Dwarves are said to lose, and how this is really a “Titan Sense.“

Bear with me, I am going to ramble about dual wield dwarven rogues and their connection to the Stone.

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS

First, I recognize that a number of issues with the rogue abilities looking magical were actually fixed in DA2 and DAI, where they throw bombs and spikes instead of clearly using magic. But I like this theory, and it’s my headcanon so.

There you go.

The rogue tree that I find the most incongruous when playing a species that can’t use magic is the DA:O Ranger ability set. How the hell is a dwarf magically summoning an animal AND magically powering up said animal? In fact, it’s so magic-based that I think it should be a closed tree for dwarves, annoying as that would be with one entire class already blocked. I played a dwarf Ranger for a while and it felt incredibly off. So I’m just kicking that one to the side.

This leaves BARD which is similarly very magical in design, but I’m going to nudge it more toward the DAI Artificer class. less singing and dancing, more concoctions to the face. Still a stretch for a dwarf, though.

This leaves us with DUELIST and ASSASSIN. With DAO:A we also add LEGIONNAIRE SCOUT and SHADOW.

DUELIST abilities I find very lore-friendly for dwarves, being based primarily on skill. I grant it a pass. In fact, I think it dwarves should be better at it than humans or elves. More in advantages and disadvantages, below.

ASSASSIN, however, provides speed bonuses that can’t be explained by “and so the dwarf runs really fast suddenly.” This becomes more of an issue in DA2 with the introduction of the Carta Assassins and their ability to disappear and reappear, which is shared by the general rogue Backstab skill. So how does this work without magic? In my headcanon, it’s because of stone-sense, and how stone-sense appears to be more of a Titan-sense, post DAI: The Descent (my beloved).

Dwarven warriors work perfectly with the concept of a link to the stone: they grow heavier, stronger, can tank. But rogues are different. Rogues gain speed, strength, and flexibility. So their connection to the stone must be more about lift and bouying than weight and tanking: they are lifted by the stone and taken back, making their feet more sure on the ground and making them hard to trip up or throw back while also allowing them to move faster along the ground. Combined with the abilities of an artificer - smoke bombs, essentially - the abilities of dwarven rogues can appear to be magic. They’re so fast moving along the stone that they are literally hard for the eye to follow.

Similarly, some of the abilities in SHADOW can be explained by a connection to Titans providing a skill that would otherwise be unavailable to non-magic users: the ability to disappear (or rather, the speed to be unseen). In DAO the character clearly actually disappears; if we ignore the mechanic and go more for how it works in DAI (ie, that it is essentially an artificer ability, since they throw a bomb for concealment), then Shadow fits a dwarf rogue’s skill set without the need for magic. Similarly, DAI redesigned Mark of Death as a chemical thrown at the enemy rather than a magical sigil.

Just as Ranger shouldn’t be available to dwarves, I also believe that LEGIONNAIRE SCOUT shouldn’t be available to any non dwarven character. Legionnaire Scouts are essentially rogues that pick up some tanking abilities - an interesting match to the idea of the connection to Titans making certain dwarves hardier. There’s no reason that it should work with humans or elves, however; the power set specifically deals with connection to the stone. (In the DA RPG that I desperately want the book for but I am not a millionaire, only dwarf rogues can pick up this specialization, as it should have been in the first place).

(Why NOT give dwarves a specialization only for them since they have no access to an entire class other races have? Hmmmm? Bioware???)

DRAGON AGE 2

Tragically, one can’t play a dwarf in DA2, but Varric’s Archery skillset happens to work well with the idea of the Stone giving dwarves enhanced strength and a lower center of gravity to hold a solid stance. But also, Varric could HAVE NO stone-sense, and that’s why he’s the world’s slowest rogue (sorry, babe, but you are the pokiest).

The use of smoke bombs makes the general rogue abilities more accessible to dwarves, but only if there is a reason they can move so damn fast that we can’t see them. That reason? A connection to the Titans that allows them to move faster across land.

DISADVANTAGES and ADVANTAGES

Since I like the idea of different species actually having different advantages and disadvantages, I’m fond of the idea of dwarves not doing well in situations where they aren’t in contact with stone. Walking across a wooden bridge would feel like floating without real control. Running across roofs made of plant materials, jumping on the backs of creatures - they would lose that certainty of step and have to work hard and practice to do those as well as other rogues. Does the top of a man-built tower count as stone? (It better, I don’t want Natia sliding all over the place in the archdemon fight.)

On the other hand, speed and steadiness would build faster than other species, and they would be able to develop some tanking abilities a la Legionnaire Scout which other rogues can’t access.

And dwarves can see in the dark. I never understand why the popular fancanon is that elves, who live above ground, see in the dark, rather than dwarves, who literally...live in...the dark....places....

So if you want a creepy sheen in the night, get ye a dwarf.

#dragon age #dwarf #dwarves #dragon age dwarves #headcanon #I just love them your honor #natia brosca #brosca #dragon age origins

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thewiglesswonder · 3 years ago

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Hey Wig, I'm vaguely familiar with The Dark Crystal, and since you're so knowledgeable of it, would you mind telling me all about it? I just feel like you might enjoy going on a long rant about it and I'm curious

[cracks knuckles] I hope you're ready for the can of worms you've just opened. Under a cut because you have activated my trap card and I will talk about this at ungodly lengths. Just know that this is not all of the Lore, omitted for your future discovery in case you decide to watch this for yourself.

It all starts in the 1980s, when Jim Henson (you might know him as the creator of some famous puppets, like The Muppets or the cast of Sesame Street) sees an illustration for a Lewis Carrol poem of crocodiles living in a fancy castle. This starts the wheels in his mind spinning with the concept of grotesque, reptilian creatures living in luxury.

Later, he meets illustrator Brian Froud, a really cool fantasy artist and all around cool guy. Froud's artwork looks like this

and Jim loves it. They start talking and eventually end up with a 25 page manuscript entitled The Crystal, which draws on influences from the darker Grimm's Fairytales, with the principle in mind that it's healthy for children to be scared sometimes. Changes get made, things get refined, it's in development for years before the final product, The Dark Crystal starts being filmed.

The catch? It's marketed as "The First Live-Action Movie With No Humans". Every single character in this film (and subsequent prequel Netflix series) is a puppet.

The Premise

Now we get into the actual worldbuilding stuff. First thing's first, this world is called Thra.

Thra is a wondrous planet that circles three suns, and at its center is the Crystal of Truth. The Crystal connects all life on Thra, and is the spiritual/magical heart of everything. Thra has many native inhabitants, all brought to life by wondrous practical effects, but the most plot-important, are the Gelfling.

Reminiscent of the elves and sprites in Froud's drawings (they should be, he was the lead concept artist), the Gelfling are said to be closest to Thra. At the time of the prequel series, seven clans of Gelfling inhabit the various corners of Thra. They are also the favorites of the strange mystical guardian of Thra, Mother Aughra.

Cranky, cantankerous, and with a heart (several hearts??) that beat for the living creatures of Thra, Aughra is kind of a subversion of the sublime mother goddess trope. She's a fantastic character with some even more fantastic insults.

So everything is hunky-dory on Thra for a couple hundred years, before some new beings arrive: The Skeksis.

The Skeksis are probably one of the most iconic aspect of The Dark Crystal, and for good reason. In the movie and the prequel, they're the vultureish, reptilian rulers of Thra. They seize control of the Crystal and begin abusing it, harvesting power from the three suns, sending Aughra off with a splendid orrery to astral project among the stars, and, over thousans of years, make the Gelfling into willing servants who gladly obey the Lords of The Crystal.

They are very obviously the villains, which is one thing that I absolutely adore about them. To the audience, they are almost cartoonishly evil, yet to the characters in the narrative, this villainy is only gradually revealed. There are eighteen total skeksis, but I'm just going to show a few of my favorites.

skekSil the Chamberlain

For future reference, every skeksis' name starts with the "skek-" prefix and ends with a unique name suffix, followed invariably by the title they hold in court. skekSil is essentially second-in-command to their Emperor, and yes, has been compared to Starscream many, many times before. I will say, he's a lot more successful than Starscream most of the time. He's manipulative, cunning, ruthless, and backstabbing, all with his iconic, high-pitched voice and unforgettable "HHHMMMMMmmmm". He's easily the franchise's most iconic character.

skekTek the Scientist

Voiced by none other than Mark Hamil himself, skekTek is the long suffering mechanic/inventor/doctor/surgeon/taxidermist/ so many other things to the skeksis. He's responsible for many of the technological advances they've brought to Thra, like harnessing living creatures to use as wheels for carriages! He's absolutely insane and I love him.

skekSo the Emperor

The supreme bitch himself. The leader of the skeksis, he's the only thing that is giving this disorganized group of horrible turkeys any semblance of order. His favor is paramount, his decisions are final, and he (along with the rest of the skeksis) is horribly afraid of death. All skeksis share this trait, which is what drives them to seek out the Crystal and other methods to try to retain their youth. skekSo is honestly one of the best antagonists I've ever seen in a piece of media. His true motivations and character are slowly revealed throughout the season, without once denying his villainy. It's great. This man sucks but he will be your favorite and there's nothing you can do about it, I'm sorry.

I am of the firm belief that a series is only as good as its villains, and boy does The Dark Crystal deliver. The skeksis can be humorously disgusting and cartoonishly evil at times, but when the moment arises, they are incredibly menacing threats that seem to pose an impossible challenge for our heroes. And I've only mentioned three! The rest of the court and even the ones we don't see are interesting in their own right.

Speaking of our heroes, their basic premise involves attempting to unite the separate Gelfling clans into rebellion against the Skeksis (hence the subtitle of the prequel series, Age of Resistance), after they discover one of the Skeksis' terrible crimes. Anything more than that is a spoiler.

So there's Wig's Dark Crystal Rant. Thank you for your time.

#hOOOH BOY #this got extremely complex but you know what #it's my blog #the dark crystal #tdc #asks #gelfling #skeksis #skeksil #skekso #skektek

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leidensygdom · 4 years ago

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On “traditional” drow and Drizzt

I just had a (fairly awful) post cross my dashboard about someone complaining that apparently the Drizzt tag is riddled with people complaining about it. And trust me, I’ve searched it for long, but I can’t find much more than fanart and people thirsting over him (and some people complaining that the Drizzt books contain very little Drizzt).

Now, I wouldn’t get in this if I hadn’t read some of the books (the trilogy with his past, the crystal-thing and the one after that), but I did. And all I can say is that they’re the most awful books I’ve read and the ones that have made me really avoid anything Forgotten Realms ever since.

I guess it’s the mix of Salvatore being consistent solely at one thing (which is being inconsistent), the really shallow writting, Drizzt’s personality changing from book to book, or the incredibly simplistic plot. Or maybe it’s the fact Salvatore can’t write a female character that doesn’t fall into “evil dominatrix bitch” (literally every single woman in the three books in the past fall into this, and I still can’t tell them appart to this day) or “love interest in need of rescue” (Seriously, all I recall about Streams of Silver is the sole woman in the group being kidnapped. What a fucking surprise). And let’s not talk about that weird inc*st r*pey scene in Homeland.

I’ve talked long about how I dislike canon drow because the whole “matriarchal dark skinned elves will of course be absolutely evil and backstab each other”, and the whole “women act (and wear accordingly) as weird fetish dominatrixs” is just. What the fuck, honestly. I don’t think I need to elaborate why I’m so done with sexist and racist narrative. I just recently found out the first of these books was written in 1988 too, which... I’d expect these things to be fairly older.

Anyways, since I couldn’t see any posts in the drizzt tag actually addressing these things, I’m putting my two cents here. One can of course enjoy these books no matter what, and I think that’s perfectly fine, but getting pissed at people who have read them and found out they were just pretty damn weird and bad and want to talk on why they didn’t like them is just... Let people talk about whether they enjoy things or not.

I’m just hoping WoTC finally gets around to maybe toning down the really weird narrative of “intelligent races that are almost exclusively evil” and maybe reconsiders that making drow women wear spiky underwear is getting old fast.

#drow #dark elf #elf #dnd #dungeons and dragons #drizzt #drizzt do'urden #r.a. salvatore

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askmerriauthor · 4 years ago

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Skyrim Civil War Quest Alternatives

Because @techmomma and @askdeserteagle made me start thinking about Skyrim again.

I really dislike what we got in the Civil War quest line. Mind you, I know I’m not saying anything new here - Skyrim’s been out for ages and we’ve all heard the discussions about how little influence your choices have, and that it basically has no impact on the game world either way. But I’d still like to consider some alternative outcomes that would’ve been fun to explore and would like to invite y’all to give some ideas as well.

So to start with, we of course have the main three:

Join the Stormcloaks Side with Ulfric and give everyone you don’t like the boot, keeping Skyrim for the Nords and ensuring their religious freedom no matter who they have to crush along the way.

Join the Empire Side with the Empire and rejoin the fractured region under a single banner in hopes of standing unified against the Thalmor, despite an uneasy and extremely questionable “truce” with said Thalmor.

Don’t Get Involved Ignore the Civil War questline entirely. Go fight dragons, eat entire cheese wheels, ignore the sporadic pockets of conflict between warring factions, be awesome.

See, now the trouble with all these is that there isn’t really any in-depth exploration of the ideas, implications, and consequences that come of your choices as a player. In terms of overall impact you basically just pick whichever side you like/doesn’t suck as much to your tastes and the end result basically equals out the same. Skyrim as a whole doesn’t feel substantially different at the end of it all. Not getting involved, on the other hand, is basically just ignoring game content and also doesn’t yield any impact either. The Civil War is touted as being this major element of the game yet you can basically ignore it for extremely little difference. I’d love to see there be notable changes to the setting, the behavior of NPCs, and the nature of Skyrim itself when you picked a side or if you chose to keep out of it and let things play out on their own. That’s sort of a core flaw for the entire game though; even when you do something really major like assassinate the Emperor himself that should logically have sweeping consequences, nothing actually changes.

Other alternatives I’d like to see are as such:

Negotiate Peace It seemed like we were supposed to get something in this vein but that it got cut from the final production. In the face of the Dragon threat, the Dovahkiin gets the opportunity to call a ceasefire and bring all the various factions literally to the negotiation table on neutral ground. Along the way some sleuthing reveals Ulfric is an (unwitting?) asset of the Thalmor, but we never get a chance to present this information! In the end the whole thing basically goes nowhere - even if you keep everyone civil at the table, it all evaporates as soon as Alduin is dealt with.

The idea of Ulfric being influenced by the Thalmor and said Thalmor intentionally driving the civil war in an effort to weaken the Empire further is just so packed with potential. It could drive Ulfric to change his ways and rejoin the Empire after recognizing the true common foe or send him further into zealous rage, blaming the Empire for allowing the Thalmor to infiltrate in the first place. The Empire could have a new angle with which to rally the fractured Holds of Skyrim as they’d have clear evidence the Thalmor had already broken the White-Gold Concordat, or even try to use the revealed connection via Ulfric to counter the Thalmor’s efforts.

Ultimately, the “good outcome” of all this would be to present a single unified Skyrim with all factions coming together, driving out the Thalmor, and setting things up for a big looming confrontation as a new war promises to come soon.

Salt the Earth The opposite scenario to the above. Instead of negotiating peace, the player has the option to go “you all suck, time for mayhem” and just goes ham on everyone. The Dovahkiin becomes Public Enemy #1 and destroys not only the leadership of either faction, but the Jarls who support either side as well. Total upheaval of power in Skyrim. Since the Thalmor themselves have no core presence in the region there’s no directly harming them, but there could always be the option to wipe out their embassies as much as possible. Since the Thalmor had a vested interest in seeing the civil war go on for as long as possible, it becomes a question of whether putting a violent stop to it all was a good or bad thing for them. On one hand, the people of Skyrim will inevitably replace their leadership with a new, potentially stronger/unified force or even potentially rally behind the Dovahkiin as its conqueror/savior. On the other hand, the Dovahkiin striking such a massive blow against the region on their own makes for a delicious opportunity to conquer Skyrim, hindered only by the threat of said Dovahkiin themselves. After all, if this lone warrior could crush several armies on their own, maybe it’s not such a good idea to cross them...

Join the Thalmor I personally consider the Stormcloaks to be the “bad guy route” in the story choice, but let’s go even further and make a “really, REALLY bad guy route”. Whether the player character is a High Elf or simply a useful asset of another race, they have the option of joining the Thalmor and furthering the chaos that is already consuming Skyrim. Instead of overt conflicts and assaulting bases like we see in the standard Stormcloak/Empire route, this would result in a more subtle approach of infiltration, subterfuge, and sabotage. Basically if you liked the Embassy Party stealth mission, the whole quest chain would be more of that. You play all sides against one another and watch them tear each other apart, perhaps with some extra bonus options if you’re aligned with any of the various stealth/knowledge-based factions/Daedric princes.

Join the Forsworn You know who the real sons of Skyrim are? Well, it’s technically the Snow Elves, but that ship has sailed. In this case it’s the Forsworn who were forced out of their land by the colonization of the invading Nords. While the Dovahkiin gets to learn about the history of the Forsworn in some considerable detail throughout the game, there’s nothing to be done with that knowledge. The Forsworn remain a permanently hostile enemy faction just because. Let’s go with a secondary route of making friends with the Forsworn and getting them some/all of their land back, be it through negotiation or uprising.

The Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal Regardless of what route you choose, there should always be at least one opportunity (if not several, ideally) to go rogue and turn the whole thing on its head. Usher one faction to the cusp of victory only to suddenly backstab its leader. Spend all your time undermining one faction for the apparent aid of a second, only to nip off and betray them both to a third party. You should always have the chance to just upend everything, especially in the most dramatic and potentially self-destructive manner possible, for the chance of being a total mastermind or chaos agent.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #speculation #story stuff #hit me up with ideas - I'm really keen to hear some

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house-greymourn · 4 years ago

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What’s your personal favourite thing you wrote this year?

So, I recently had to delete and recreate my blog, I originally had the blog - Greymourned and it held all of my writings - but due to some hacking issues I had to delete the blog and start from scratch! Alas, I have this little tidbit from some really, emotional roleplay I had with my gal Theodora. For some background, she was going through this ritual where she was brought to her past and she was working through her pain. So this bit of writing was her finding out what she really wants from life. It has some sex and some other mature writing but feel free to check it out <3

The shattering glass returned, and in it's deafening glory it, once again, whisked the broken girl away, furthering her down the stream of memories. The Moon glistened above, ragged breath after ragged breath filled the night before Theodora was pulled into view, straddling a human man, his raven hair covering the pillow below him while she was passionately finishing their episode. Afterwards the man's hands slid across the elf's skin - tracing patchwork after patchwork of color before going onto the next. Theodora stared at the faintest of detailing on the wall of the tent, wishing she was anywhere but there. She'd count the thread work over and over, and over until the man gently pulled her face to his. "You...are beautiful."

"Shut up...you fucked me and you liked it. That's it." She responded, rolling her eyes as she pulled herself off his lap and laid next to him.

"Stop it....Theo..Look.." his hand sweetly guided her face back to his, "Look at me when I say this.. You. Are. Beautiful." He placed a trio of tender kisses against her lips before continuing, "Wicked tongue, and backstabbing wit and all, y-you my dear...y-you.." his breath was already quickening as he looked her over, "Y-you are like the moon and stars to me. Let me..." Theodora nervously rolled over before her breath also began to quicken, "Theo..." he called to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back, "Let me love you. L-let me...let me cherish you."

Theodora shook her head, tears in her eyes as she whispered "N-no.."

The moon shifted overhead several times, days and nights passing by before Theodora sat next to a large Nathrizem, one of a familiar face to some. Naramsin and Theodora sat in the dune sea of Uldum, watching the stars above. "You know little daggermouth, you do not need to wear a wall with me."

The elf laughed, shaking her head, "Nonsense, I have built this and I will die before I see it crumble. Even before a demon such as you."

The horned god laughed, his cackling could almost fill the night sky if he hadn't contained himself. "Your pain, your past, you do not have to let it drive you. Let yourself do what you must, but do not allow it to drive you to lonesomeness. This world is vast my little spit fire girl, do not let yourself make it any smaller. You're only allowing yourself to see the world as a caged bird would. Let yourself be the Goddess of your own world, of this world. Do not let any other tear you down, even yourself. You are a smart girl, perhaps too smart for your own good. Do not let yourself be your own destruction."

Theodora's eyes were filled with mournful tears as she nodded, leaning over to rest her head upon the Huntman's shoulder. "I...I promise to do better."

Theodora now stood before the Horned Demon once more, this time before a grand stone of opal coloring. “Tell me...what is your deepest desire?”

Theodora nodded softly before reaching out, her fingertips settling on the nearby stone. Exhaling softly she would allow her palms to make contact. “Mmmm…” she murmured, pondering what to think of. She pondered, and pondered - taking deep, calming breaths as she struggled for inspiration. “Hmm..” She whispered before a vision came to her; Her mind’s eye filled with images of herself lounging about on a throne of crystalline arcane. She is wrapped in bolts of silk, acolytes conducting rituals - boosting their goddess’ energy. Yes, this..this is what she wanted. Power, and utter devotion.

She exhaled and the image quickly began to crack - growing hazier. No, there was something else she desired most. Her mind’s eye swirled and spun, stitching together another potential reality. This time it was a small room, the early morning rays peeking through the curtains as childish giggles filled the space, laughter erupting from underneath cotton sheets. The images swirled once more - this time the cotton sheets were pulled back to reveal Theodora on her back, two little elves bouncing and rolling on top of her. Her heart full, her soul filled with love, this...this is what she desired most. There was no need for ultimate powers nor utter devotion. In truth, she had been wishing for those things to fill a gap she never wished to touch upon. Within her heart of hearts, this, this is what she wished so dearly for. Perhaps, with enough time she would be blessed with such a thing. Such as the dream shifted into existence it too would soon shatter - leaving the witch in the dark, eyes filled with tears as she looked back up at the Horned Demon.....

Thank you @safrona-shadowsun for the ask! <3 @godsthorns (I forgot you main blog, or Naramsin’s blog, so i”m tagging you from this one <3)

#ask meme #character ask meme #oc ask #rp ask #Theodora #House Greymourn #Theodora: Emotions

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patricianandclerk · 5 years ago

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Little Pieces of Ignorance

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

It was little things, mostly.

Nothing so audacious as calling him knife ear or making some other slur against the elves, or getting nasty with him, getting unpleasant. It was… just discomfort, at times, visible discomfort, or uncertainty. People let themselves forget, he thought, what Lavellan was, who he was, where he’d come from.

Little comments, here and there, little pieces of ignorance.

It was draining.

It wasn’t going anyway any time soon.

“Do they go all the way down?” Flissa asked. They were in the Singing Maiden, and Lavellan looked up from his drink, meeting her gaze. He was sitting with Sera and Varric, sipping at beer and trying to relax after a long, long day of talking with so many Andrastians, facing so many accusations, and receiving so many more…

Whatever the opposite was. It made his skin crawl, that they kept trying to heighten him to some religious figure in their head, and Even Sera and Varric were Andrastian, albeit quiet about it – Lavellan heard the ways they casually referenced the Maker, or Andraste. They weren’t even aware of it, so richly woven through speech, through the world around them, as it was.

“My vallaslin?” Lavellan asked. “No. The writing is on the face, and only on the face. It’s a sign of adulthood: our children, when they’re old enough to take on adult responsibilities within the clan, receive their vallaslin.”

“Does it hurt?” Flissa asked. She was holding a jug of ale in her hands, leaning forward, and Lavellan saw only curiosity, only eagerness, in her face. Others in the tavern were listening, craning to hear, and not for the first time amidst all these humans and these city elves, Lavellan felt like something stuffed and mounted in a museum, to be analysed and passed about as exhibit of a strange and foreign culture.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s like one of your tattoos – a needle pierces the skin, and the ink is folded beneath. It is to be done in silence. If you cry out, if you grunt in pain, the Keeper knows you aren’t yet ready to receive your vallaslin.”

“How old are you?” Varric asked.

“Most are around eighteen, nineteen,” Lavellan said, shrugging his shoulders. “I was some weeks younger than seventeen.”

“That’s horrid,” Sera said.

“That’s awful,” Flissa said. “They made you get those tattoos?”

“No, I chose them,” Lavellan murmured, not letting the defensiveness creep into his voice, not letting it raise, and he made sure he didn’t grip too tightly at his beer mug. Varric was watching him carefully, and Lavellan forced himself not to grit his teeth. “It’s a mark of pride, to the Dalish – it shows you to be capable, assured, an adult in your own right. You’re no longer a child. It marks us from the outsiders, too.”

“But what do they mean?” Flissa asked. “The trees?”

“This design represents the goddess Mythal,” Lavellan said, reaching up and brushing the deep brown cresting his cheek bones, complementing the leafy designs over his brow, his forehead, his nose. “She’s the All-Mother, and she’s the patron goddess of justice. And of mothers, of course, mothers and children, and love.”

Flissa stared down at him. There was a silence in the tavern, and Lavellan glanced from Varric and Sera to the others in the room, at all the people staring at him.

“So you… But… But that’s a false…” Flissa trailed off.

False god, Lavellan finished in his head. He set his mug aside. “Forgive me,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ve gotten carried away: I have some work to do before I go to bed. Good night.”

Varric followed him as he made his way up toward the Chantry.

“They didn’t mean anything by it,” he said casually. “Just people being people.”

“They assume my gods have been replaced by theirs,” Lavellan said. “I tell people I don’t like this Herald nonsense: I am ignored; I tell Leliana and Cassandra and Josephine to discourse people from using the title; I am ignored. To my face, people all but beg me to be anything but an elf, let alone Dalish. They look at me and see Andraste, nothing more than a shadow figure that they’ve painted themselves on the wall.”

“The Hero of Fereldan was Dalish,” Varric said quietly.

“So she was,” Lavellan agreed, and he heard the bitterness in his own voice. “She died for these people. When I do that, inevitably, will they pretend me a city elf? Worse, will they remember be as a shem, if they remember me at all?”

“It’s not the be-all end-all,” Varric said.

“Not to you,” Lavellan said, and made his way inside.

“Do you have to do that?” Sera demanded, and Lavellan looked up from his meal, then looked back down at it. He’d only just sat down, and he couldn’t tell precisely what it was that was upsetting her – Gods knew it couldn’t possibly be his table manners, because Sera herself had none to speak of.

“To… eat?” Lavellan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It isn’t often I agree with the likes of Sera, but… It’s very rude, dear,” Vivienne said, “to speak in a language not everyone in the room understands.”

Lavellan glanced to Solas, who had sat down beside him. They’d been talking as they’d come into the room to eat, and not about anything incredibly important – only about Solas’ adventures in the fade. He’d scarcely been aware they weren’t speaking in the common tongue, but he supposes they were using Elvish. It just felt… natural.

“Vraiment ?” Lavellan asked smoothly, meeting Vivienne’s gaze. “Et ce fait, Vivienne, c’est vrai pour tout le monde, ou peut-être c’est vrai pour les elfes, et pas pour tout?”

“Your pronunciation needs work, darling,” Vivienne said, somewhat coldly.

“So does your riposte, it seems,” Solas said in pleasant Elvish, and Lavellan had to hold himself back from laughing.

Sera scowled. “D’you just have to rub in how foreign you are? Not like the common elves, too good for them, innit?”

“I’m not foreign,” Lavellan said. “May I eat, now?”

Sera scoffed, and Lavellan turned back to his plate.

Lavellan sighed as he stepped out of the door to his quarters, resting for a moment on the little walkway before he made his way down into the main hall of Skyhold. Haven was behind them now, and yet so much stretched out ahead of them – so many nobles, and now that he was Inquisitor…

He had struggled to sleep last night, turning it over and over in his head.

This was worse than being the Herald of Andraste. He was more than that, now – he was the Inquisitor, he was more than a mere rumour of potential faith. People were increasingly looking to him as the leader of something religious, and…

Yes, the Chantry was still scattered in ruins, still arguing over everything, and yet…

Skyhold was building up and up, now. He just had to go with it.

He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair as he descended the stairs, stepping out and into the main hall, turning to make his way into Josephine’s office. They would be setting out for Crestwood later in the day, but in the meantime there was no doubt paperwork for him to make his way through, and in preparation for this business with Empress Celene…

He was worried about it. The Orlesians played their Game with all the delicacy of an assassin with their blade: sudden, sharp, cutting. It was all-encompassing, and he shuddered at the thought of being in the midst of all those humans, so concerned with backstabbing one another merely for the sake of entertainment, and trying to make head or tail of all their nonsense, trying to prevent the Empress being assassinated…

“Ah, Inquisitor,” said Leliana, taking a step forward, and Lavellan looked between her and Josephine. They were both on their feet, standing before a little table set for two, and Lavellan hesitated.

“Sorry,” he said. “Am I interrupting your breakfast?”

The plates were empty, and clean. It was a ridiculously lavish cutlery set, made from gold, and gold was painted, too, on the plates and dishes, let alone the crystal drinking glasses. Lavellan shuddered to think of whatever noble they’d borrowed it from transporting it up the mountain – but then, human nobles didn’t think about things like fragility, did they?

“Er, no,” Leliana said. “This is for the Masquerade.”

Lavellan frowned. “The Masquerade?” he repeated, glancing down again at the polished metal of the knives, forks, and spoons. “I’m sorry, I don’t…?”

“We need to begin drilling you on proper etiquette, so that you can better obtain court approval,” Josephine said, glancing at Leliana. “It will be… difficult for you, Inquisitor, to gather approval from the Orlesian court, erm, because—” She trailed off awkwardly, and Lavellan felt a familiar, uncomfortable shift in the base of his gut. “And of course, it isn’t just for the Masquerade, it’s for dinners with nobles…”

He stared at the dinner plates.

“Because…?” Lavellan repeated, arching his eyebrows and looking between Josephine and Leliana both. Leliana’s expression remained neutral, but Josephine faltered, her mouth falling open, her eyes widening. “No, really, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Inqusitor,” Leliana said.

“Because of the heretical nature of someone being named Andraste’s Herald, maybe?” Lavellan suggested. “Because I’m an elf?”

“We really—” Josephine began.

“Because I’m a Dalish,” Lavellan said, smiling with savage teeth, “and I don’t know how to eat at a human dining table.” He stepped forward. “Orlesian table setting. From the outside in on the left, forks for the fish course, meat course, salad course. From the outside in on the right, seafood fork, soup spoon, knives for the fish course, meat course, salad course.”

Josephine looked away.

Leliana said, “I’m sorry, I did not know that you…”

“Stop,” Lavellan said, palm raised. “I also know how to waltz, how to dance. I walk with proper posture, I know several bows, and even a few curtsies. I’m well-read, Leliana: I know history, I know poetry, I know literature. That’s why my Keeper sent me to the Conclave in the first place – because I knew humans better than most, and knew their customs. So what exactly did you want to drill me in?”

“I’m sorry,” Josephine said, when Leliana didn’t speak. She didn’t like to misstep, Lavellan knew – neither of them did.

Leliana’s gaze was on the floor, and then she met Lavellan’s eyes. Shame showed on her face, at least.

“I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be embarrassed,” she said.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Lavellan said. “Paperwork, Josephine?”

“Nothing today,” Josephine said.

“Then I’ll gather the party and make ready for Crestwood,” Lavellan said crisply, and made his way out.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” said the Iron Bull. He sounded amused. He often sounded amused, wry, when he spoke with Lavellan, and that had only deepened since they’d started…

Well.

It was a warm summer’s day, and they were out on the Exalted Plains. He was wearing footwraps that Taniel had gifted him at the Dalish camp, and it was unbelievably freeing, to walk without leather compassing his feet and his legs, to be able to move with his toes in the sand and the dirt.

“I hate wearing shoes,” Lavellan said. “I’d never wear them again if I had the choice.”

“You don’t have a choice?” Iron Bull asked, tone playful.

“You need shoes,” Blackwall said gruffly as he came back to the camp, and Lavellan stared into the dying embers of the fire. “No time for pretty Dalish feet out here – you’ll get your toes broken.” It was blunt, casual. He hadn’t heard the conversation, that much was clear.

Lavellan turned to meet Iron Bull’s eye. The smile had fallen away from his face.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Lavellan asked, once. “For caring as much as I do?”

“It angers you that they look at you and remake you, in their minds, as something you are not,” Solas said quietly. “You feel you are broken to pieces, and remade again in an image you do not approve of, that does not suit your being. That isn’t stupid, lethallin. It’s as natural a feeling as any.”

Lavellan put his head down, pressing his face against his thumbs, exhaling raggedly. “I don’t want to be anyone’s god.”

“Would you rather be the monster under their bed?” Solas asked.

Lavellan glanced at him. Solas was gentle in his guidance at times, and firmer at others. Now, his expression was unreadable, until his fingers gently brushed Lavellan’s arm, his thumb stroking the seam of his shoulder, where the sleeve met the rest of his shirt.

“I merely meant,” Solas said quietly, “that you could be worse, in their eyes. You stand to do a lot for the world, in your current position. Get some rest. And… don’t work too hard today. Allow yourself some small leisure – read a book, play chess with Pavus.”

“Iron Bull plays chess too, you know,” Lavellan said.

Solas cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said. “I did say a small leisure.”

Lavellan laughed – it was weak, and hoarse, but he laughed.

Lavellan’s wrists were tightly bound at the small of his back, and a black cloth was tied over his eyes. He couldn’t see a thing, although it was light outside, and he was straddling Iron Bull’s waist. He was breathing slowly, evenly, and Bull’s fingers traced circles up and down his thighs, over his waist.

“Tell me another one,” Bull said.

Lavellan felt suspended in the blackness, as if it were merely he and Bull, drifting in the void together. Bull was both his anchor and the sail he navigated by: Bull was everything that bound Lavellan to the earth itself, prevented him from being just another star distantly scattered amidst the Heavens.

“Elgar’nan was born of the sun and the earth,” Lavellan murmured. “He promised his mother he would destroy his father, the sun, because he had burned her, burned so much. He buried the sun beneath darkness and earth, and promised to destroy him when he returned. The earth counselled him not to, for without the sun, the earth would die, and so too would all upon it. But Elgar’nan is the patron of vengeance – he was too angry. He had to destroy the sun, damn the consequences—

“And Mythal, born from the sea, walked up to him, and she laid her hand on his brow. In that one movement she drew all the fury, the rage, from within him, balancing his fire with the cool of her water, and Elgar’nan knew peace. His anger, his fury, it dissipated – blind vengeance was abandoned in favour of care.

“He told the sun he would release him, so long as his light was gentle, and caused no harm to those it touched. He offered mercy in exchange for mercy.” It was strange, telling these tales like this, naked as they both were, skin touching skin, and yet Bull never interrupted, never complained. It was always him who prompted Lavellan to tell them, although Lavellan knew he was no natural story-teller, as so many were in his clan – much of what he said was recited from books and poems, scant pieces of phrase, tied clumsily together, a tapestry recreated in patchwork.

Solas had told him once that he was a better storyteller than he might think.

“Then what happened?” Iron Bull asked. His thumbs rubbed pleasantly against the divot of Lavellan’s hip, on each side.

“As husband and wife, Elgar’nan and Mythal acted as one,” Lavellan said. “They restored life and peace to the things upon the earth, bringing once more to brightness and beauty the things of the gardens, the flowers, the trees, and those of the rivers that had dried in their beds, and the birds, the creatures of the earth…

“And when the sun laid down to rest, Mythal scooped up some of the dirt from about his bed, and made of it the moon. A reflection of the sun, yes, but a… testament to the power it had. A ghost of its former fury, always shadowing it, always reminding it. The sun could not be allowed to forget, but it was a gentle reminder.” He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I think.”

The Bull’s fingers came up, undoing the blindfold, and Lavellan looked down at his face as his thumbs traced the lines on Lavellan’s cheekbones, his fingers touching his brow, also. Those fingers, so large, were impossibly gentle, as though Lavellan were some fragile thing the Bull thought might shatter between his mighty palms.

“That’s who this vallaslin represents,” Bull said. “The goddess of gentle reminders, huh?”

“Most people simply say motherhood,” Lavellan murmured, and Bull laughed.

“That’s… We haven’t got stories like that in the Qun. No little gods, no spirits. But they’re beautiful, when you tell ‘em. Do you believe in them? Those gods?”

“I don’t know,” Lavellan said quietly. “I believe in what they represent. I believe in gentle reminders, in peace, in justice. Our Gods don’t order us about, or leave scripture that we must argue over… Instead, we govern ourselves. The stories are fables: they teach us, guide us, but we can make of them what we choose.”

“Frustrated with Andraste?”

“Cassandra, Leliana,” Lavellan said softly. “They would carve me in a saviour’s image. And yet to do so, they seek to carve away all that makes me as I am. I would be willing, if it were the last resort, to sacrifice my life for the Inquisition, for the people here, but to sacrifice my… I don’t know. My soul? My personhood? That seems too much to ask, and they don’t even ask. No one asks. My moulding is done by committee.”

“You know I’m not tryna do that, right?” Iron Bull asked. “I’m not trying to train you into anything you don’t want.”

“I know,” Lavellan murmured.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t protest a little,” Bull murmured, rolling his hips up against Lavellan’s arse, and Lavellan laughed breathlessly, shifting his fingers in their place. “S’kinda nice, when you groan and whine a little bit.”

“Noted.”

“Tell me another one,” Bull said.

“Are you going to fuck me tonight,” Lavellan asked, “or just ask me for stories?”

“You listen to people tell you their stories all day long, every day,” Iron Bull said quietly. “You don’t know something, you ask. You listen to people tell you about Andraste, or mages or templars, or Orlais, or Kirwall, or Tevinter… Or the Qun. How many people ask you about your people? Not asking like when they think you’re a funny thing in the zoo, or a plaque at the museum, not when they’re trying to feel out whether you’re the Herald they want. Like you ask. Quiet, engaged, curious, but not without feeling. You get what I’m saying?”

“Thank you,” Lavellan said. He was surprised by the emotion in his own voice. “But I think I’ve had enough of being… a person, tonight. Even a Dalish one.”

“Got it,” Bull murmured, and flipped them over.

“Ma vhenan,” Iron Bull rumbled in Lavellan’s ear, and Lavellan felt himself relax even further against Bull’s chest, melting against his skin.

“Kadan,” Lavellan returned, and let himself drift.

#as defined by dictionary #male lavellan #solas #the iron bull #fanfic #dragon age #dragon age inquisition

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baebeyza · 5 years ago

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Saw this from @queeniebarenziah and wanted to share some TESpositivity too :D ~ talk about 5 things about tes that you love and then about 5 of your favorite tes blogs!! 1. THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE AND WORLDBUILDING! Even though I played my first TES game Morrowind as a child, I didnt really get much of it and didnt read all of the texts and at some point we only had the game in english anyway (I’m from Germany) so I could understand it even less and just watched my older sister play it. But around 6 years ago I replayed it and only then did I actually got into the meat of the story and the world and I fell in love! The Lore is interesting and completely out there, creative and amazing! I love the rules of the world, the way Gods work and the history of countries and certain people. It just oozes with some much raw insane troll-logic at times and I just love it :D It’s unique and feels exciting and I gotta say - I did more research on the TES history than I ever did on our history :^) 2. THE CULTURES When you play one game of TES, you know you are in a different place. The country and its culture are always present and the feeling is completely different. You play Morrowind and you know how their society works and it works different from Skyrim and Cyrodiil. I bring this up because another franchise, Dragon Age, was really bad at this. I played the first and second game and even though they played in different countries, there was no difference. It all felt the same and the rules were the same. There wasnt even any real culture that made Ferelden or Kirkwall unique. TES is not like that to me, the way people interact with, how they talk, what they say, it all shows you what the culture is like and I love it. And I do love the cultures, but I love Morrowind culture the most, because it’s so insane and creative. A culture based on backstabbing is just so hilarious to me. 3. THE DAEDRA The princes are really awesome and I love how you can interact with them and most of their interactions ~ What I like the most is how morality is something that doesnt even really exist for them, they just do what they wanna do and sometimes you benefit from it, sometimes you dont. Also just the fact that they all have their own realm makes them interesting and it makes you curious about it. I hope we get to see more oblivion realms in the next TES game! 4.THE BOOKS I am talking in-game books, but also the TES novels! I read them years ago and I cant even give an objects review, just the fact that there are novels to TES makes them great for me :D I mean, Hircine showed up for maybe half a page, didnt do anything other than being a sinister shadow, and it made my day! Having stories about TES in official written form just filled me with so much joy! And as for in-game books, I love “Game at dinner”! 5. THE GREY MORALITY Apart from being the hero to save the world, you totally have the option to be evil in anyway. Not just talking about being part of thieves and assassins, there are quest where you can just go the evil path. Any slave-related quest in Morrowind gives you the option to side with the slave-traders. And I know this has become a hot topic recently in the fandom, but I like the fact that evil Gods/Princes exist in this franchise. Same with taboo themes. For me, it makes it more real and grounded and I think I would care about the world less if it had only “pure” things and good and evil were completely separate. Azura is seen as good, but we all know she can be cruel. Molag Bal is the evilest of the evil, but not always the enemy, as you can make quests for him. (and in Morrowind you can cure his vampirism with his help only) Boethiah rules over stuff that can considered evil, but the dark elves see them as good. It’s stuff like that grey morality that makes the world far more interesting to me. Guess thats it, whoever wants to do this, you are tagged! ~

#tes #the elder scrolls #morrowind #tesblr positivity #skyrim

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azadzior · 5 years ago

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Pride

Azryl winced as he hung the sign outside the clinic door, shoulder protesting from under his bandage as stitches pulled, and healing skin itched. 'Closing Early for Pride Maelstrom. Please make appointments at front desk. Thank you!' Injury be damned he was going to that party, one way or another. It was...important to the monk to be there. Stepping back to make sure the sign was straight the redhead set his hands on his hips looking up at the perpetually overcast sky of the island. Dark and foreboding it threatened to literally rain on the parade of tonight's celebration.

That was the world outside this place though. Very hostile, threatening, smothering... Try as he might, he couldn't stop the memory from surfacing. The look in Lord Adzior's eye's, a man who was LITERALLY like a father to him, took him in, raised him, as the Noble Lord had thrown him out of the only home he really knew. All because Azryl felt more for his charge than a good servant or bodyguard should. He'd loved Ralandis fiercely, passionately, deeply. If anything...it would have made him a better guard for the Lord's son... because Azryl would have rather died than let anything happen to the silvered heir.

'Perversion.' That's what Lord Adzior had called him. An 'Abomination,' a 'taint' on the family that had to be removed before it infected their son. Gods, even now after all these years it still hurt to think about. The rage was there too. Rage at all that man had done, trying to destroy the red-headed boy as if that would somehow erase the fact that his son....had loved Azzy too.

But knowing how things turned out, what that pain had set in motion.... Az couldn't bring himself to feel regret. After all had Lord Adzior not thrown him out and blacklisted him...he'd have never met Ashraen. Even after all these years and all the hardships the pair had faced Azryl still felt the same strange jolt of recognition every time he saw the Golden male. That Ash was some long lost part of himself. His soulmate.

Of course they hadn't had an easy go of it either. Back then Silvermoon frowned on open homosexuality and with the backstabbing and political plays, especially against Ash, the lovers had been forced to be together only under the cover of darkness and hidden back alleys. Like they were ashamed of each other. During the days they'd have to pass each other, checking every interaction and whom might see. To the outside world they were just good friends, though many doubted the 'Wolf of Silvermoon' could have such things as 'friends.'

Of course someone HAD found out. Azryl's mien grew as dark and dangerous as the clouds above him as that particular man rose to the forefront.

His father. The drunk had literally sold his only son into servitude for the coin it would bring him to pay off his gambling debts. And after Azryl had been cast away, the abusive fucker, had tried to search out his meal ticket to do it all over again. But what he found was so much more juicy then a few gold payday for a strong back. No he found something to loft over one of the most dangerous men in the city and wasn't above blackmail. Az didn't even spare a thought of remorse or sadness for what Ash had ended up doing. His father had learned that night, wolves won’t bow to anything other than strength. If only the fucker hadn't thought to double in his payday and kept his mouth shut before he died.

Lord Adzior, having failed to see his young charge in the gutter, withering, as planned decided to strike where he knew it would hurt the worst. It was brilliant really, the maneuvers made to make sure all the pieces were lined up in perfect rows to be knocked down. He'd set them up to turn on each other.

Az gave a harsh shake of his head, knowing he couldn't sink into that particular dark pitfall of his mind. What had happened between him and Ash, the years they spent without each other, was too much, too painful, still too raw. Instead he turned to look over the town that had become home. Across the square was the Inn, where a warm hearth, good food, and rancorous laughter were always in supply. The dance hall was still being decorated with multi-color banners and decorations in preparation and welcome of those celebrating life and love.

From the clinic he could almost see his own house, with it's bright pink cherry tree Ash had planted for him. Diz was no doubt at home right now with Vivilynn, probably getting them both down for a nap. The thought brought a smile to his lips, chasing away the darkness his thoughts had covered him in.

Rustberg accepted him and his family, no matter what shape it took on. No matter that Diz was technically of the Alliance, branded a traitor by his own people. Rustberg didn't see sides, or colors, it just saw a couple of elves and their baby making a family. And that is why this was home, and why he was going to that party.

Casting another look to the sky, he spoke, hoping the other townsfolk didn't hear their Physician talking to himself like a crazy person. "I hope you can see me now. I hope it rankles and needles you till the end of time that I'm happy. That you didn't destroy us. I'm not a monster or a perversion for loving them. I'm stronger for it."

Az was going to that party. He was going to dance, and laugh, and drink with family and neighbors and celebrate this place that allowed him to live as he'd always meant to, openly, honestly, fiercely.

As if answering his resolute affirmation the dark clouds shifted, loosing a ray of bright sun and crisp blue sky over the wet and mist-cloaked town. Azryl himself could only stand mystified at the beautiful array of colors as the rainbow bloomed into being.

((Mentions: @ralaadzior @ashraenv @dizaraksanar @heartoftheravenwra ))

#writing

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bhaalble · 6 years ago

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Alistair: A Defense, a Critique

I PROMISED AN ESSAY

I DELIVER AN ESSAY.

So here we go. What’s up Ferelden, its him, ya boi

So, let’s start off by clearly delineating some things that Alistair is, and more importantly, what he is not.

I think there’s a tendency with Alistair critical posts to treat the worst possible version of Alistair as the “real him”, which is more than a little unfair. Unhardened, kinda bitchy Alistair is a part of him, yes, but its a part of him that only arises when your Warden is continually a dick to him, and I think it’s fair to say that none of us are the best versions of ourselves when we’re constantly being treated like shit or ignored. Furthermore, this isn’t really something we do when we talk about the other characters. Zevran straight up tries to murder you if you don’t have his approval ratings high enough and somehow most people don’t see Zevran as inherently a backstabbing little shit.

So, let’s run down the list of common accusations and overturn them

Alistair is not stupid. He’s just…not. Morrigan jokes, yes, but Morrigan tends to see everyone as an idiot for not sharing her worldview, including your Warden. The one who jokes about Alistair being stupid more often than anyone is Alistair, but as we see time and time again, he’s rarely the most trustworthy source for his real complications.

Alistair may not be a scholar and can make some pretty boneheaded statements, yes, but he’s hardly alone in that department for the DA:O crew. His retorts show some real wit behind them at points. He can demonstrate great social awareness (e.g. catching on to the fact that the Grand Cleric sending him, an ex-templar, to interact with the Circle Mages was definitely an intentional slight). Furthermore, I’d like to point out that he managed to catch on to the Chantry’s bullshit all on his own, before he racked up dozens of counts of mage abuse (*cough* CULLEN *cough*). He still shows some effects of the templar’s training, (especially in his treatment of Jowan and Morrigan) but I’d argue that this is hardly a surprise. He’s been subjected to it 24/7 since he was a child. But he’s aware, and based on the other templars we meet throughout the game that on its own shows some serious introspection and critical thinking.

Alistair is not selfish. While he has his moments, I don’t think that’s really who he is, deep down. Take, for instance, his forgiveness of Arl Eamon. He hasn’t seen Eamon for years. The expected arc would be that he waits for Eamon to wake up, gets an apology, and then forgives him. But based on how he talks about him when you enter Redcliffe, its clear that he’s already forgiven Eamon, and is honestly more than a little ashamed of his behavior. Frankly, this is more selfless than even I would be: imagine being twelve, having lived your life as a street urchin because your adoptive father simply won’t treat you any different than he treats his paid employees, only to be sent away from the only home you’ve ever known because your presence embarrasses his wife. Frankly, I think Alistair would be justified in resenting Eamon for it, but it’s clear that he doesn’t. He calls him a good man from beginning to end.

Furthermore, I think what the Guardian says to Alistair is telling. He doesn’t just feel sad that Duncan is gone. He feels guilty. He, deep down, genuinely believes it should have been him. He wishes he could throw himself on the sword to save his mentor. Then there’s the ritual to consider. It takes some convincing (because of course it does) but with little fuss, Alistair will sleep with a woman he genuinely dislikes (which hoo boy does this make a consent conversation more than a little shaky) to conceive a child that he will never get to see. He, a bastard child cast away from his father, is essentially doing the same thing. All to ensure that he won’t risk his friends dying. Even an unhardened King Alistair casting off a non-human non-noble Warden, while it of course hurts, to me shows a sense of latent responsibility. He genuinely loves and cares about your HoF, but he has the sense that this matters more. That even though he never wanted this burden, he has to carry it as best he can.

What Alistair is is immature.

I want to draw a fine distinction here because I think we tend to use immature interchangeably with “selfish” and “stupid”, so it can sound like I’m contradicting myself. So, to explain myself: I use “immature” in the sense of a symptom, rather than a personality.

For an example of “immature as a personality”, look no further than Tony Stark in like, the first half hour of Iron Man (arguably Tony in the rest of the movies too but ashfagdkh follow me here)

Early Tony Stark is very much someone who is irrepressibly immature. He is capable of being an adult, but he chooses not to be, valuing his own desires above pretty much everyone else’s. He acts out simply because he knows no one will stop him, chases the shiniest, biggest toys he can get, and throws a fit when he doesn’t get his way. He treats other people’s time and needs with a flippant attitude, generally behaving like they are literally side characters who only matter so long as they help him get what he wants.

This isn’t to say there isn’t a reason Tony is the way he is (his relationship with his father being a big contributor), but what is important is that Tony is fully capable of being otherwise, knows it, and chooses not to. He revels in his shamelessness, believing that his immaturity is a sign of his intelligence. Everyone else acts like an adult because they have to, but Tony acts like a child because he is smart enough and rich enough to get away with it. Call it a sort of Capitalist Peter Pan syndrome.

By contrast, Alistair strikes me as immature as a symptom. First off, his age is important to factor in here. Alistair is 20 (my age, which is trippy as fuck). He is barely done being a teenager by the time you meet him.

There are further factors that have stunted Alistair’s emotional maturity, even for the average 20-year-old. He jokes about having been raised by Mabari, but its very clear there weren’t a lot of adult influences in his life at a young age. He mentions Isolde ensured that the castle wasn’t home to him long before he was sent to the Chantry. Imagine being under ten and feeling like you were unwanted by a person who has the power to make your life miserable in every imaginable way.

Then, once he was moved to the Chantry….well, if the Circle is any indication, the Chantry doesn’t exactly know how to accommodate children. Alistair made life a merry hell for the priests but it’s clear he wasn’t treated very well by them. Then straight into templar training. All of this while barely interacting with the outside world and shunned by his peers for his status as a bastard. Kids need to engage with other people in order to grow up effectively. With that in mind, it’s frankly stunning that Alistair has as much care for other people as he does.

The observation of Alistair’s immaturity is exactly groundbreaking either. Think about his dream in the Fade. We see Alistair at his most honest and vulnerable, fully convinced of the illusion. And it seems his greatest dream is to have the family he never got as a child, via his sister. Alistair behaves childlike to the point of parody in this dream. He pleads like a child and tries to entice the Warden to stay by begging his mom sister to make a special meal, his favorite. Hell, the whole “hardening” subplot is basically about the Warden forcing Alistair to let go of the childhood he never got to have and moving forward into adulthood.

His immaturity doesn’t just express itself in the obvious childlike behavior, however. Even though we tend to forget that Alistair is a junior member of the Wardens and is barely more experienced than the HoF in terms of actually fighting darkspawn, I think we can all agree that tossing the decisions on someone who’s barely past their Joining probably isn’t great behavior. Pretty much every comment he makes, about mages, blood magic, elves, even women, also read as the words of a man who simply does not have the world experience yet to really know how to engage with people who aren’t like him. It doesn’t mean these comments don’t….yanno, suck, but there is rarely any real malice behind them. Despite the hardships in Alistair’s life (of which there have been many, I grant), he has still been on the receiving end of certain privileges by virtue of being a man and being human non-mage, and it is clear he is still unlearning the prejudice inherent in that. His youth doesn’t excuse how hurtful or ignorant his comments can be, but its the unfortunate truth that, especially for those of us who grow up relatively privileged, being mindful of the Other is a learning process.

However, the main reason I view this immaturity as a symptom more than a personality is that I think Alistair has a genuine desire to grow past this. He acknowledges that he complains a lot, with an additional note that “and you haven’t been having an easy time of it either”. If you push back on his comments (or at least when the game gives you the chance to), he’ll usually apologize for it. And as I said, the hardening storyline to me indicates that Alistair is more than ready to grow up. He’s just still learning how to do it.

None of this, by the way, means that you have to love Alistair. Its more than easy to be annoyed by him, especially for a non-human and/or non-noble character. In the interest of full disclosure, it took me romancing Alistair to move past simply tolerating him. But I think its time for all of us to stop pretending Alistair is something he isn’t. He isn’t really a side character as much as he is a deuteragonist. More than any other companion (except, arguably, Morrigan), Alistair has a character arc that acts in response to your own characters. He grows and changes over the course of the narrative in a way that parallels how the story treats him, and if you create an Alistair that behaves like an asshole, well, you might want to take a look at how you’ve been treating him

#alistair theirin #pro alistair #dragon age: origins #da:o #if this does well i'll also do a post about why i banished him #and about gaider and co and how they fuck up all the good men #and where are all the gooooods #long post

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