#i still hate tower defense games but ill make an exception for this

[tomatoteddy]

Maybe I won’t commit a robbery

I have been playing Chpt 3 of Flavour Frenzy for almost thirty minutes and if I have to die yet again I might commit a robbery

[ryanmeft]

No, Nintendo Does Not Hate Metroid

Nintendo, a company that makes video games, recently announced that after almost two years, they were scrapping all current work on Metroid Prime 4, taking it from whatever mystery studio was working on it, and giving it to the hallowed minds at Retro Studios to start over with, hoping to get it right.

This was greeted with rapturous applause by Metroid fans, who almost universally recognized how good Nintendo was being to them, and were highly appreciative of the fact they’d be willing to write off all the resources they’d spent so far, just because the game wasn’t up to snuff.

I am of course kidding. That up there was a joke. Metroid fandom contains the whiniest, most entitled, hardest-to-satisfy fans of any Nintendo property, and while the majority of fans were cool, the loudest ones were typically the whiners. Most notably, a not-insignificant section of the fandom has gripped, with an unshakable hold, the idea that Nintendo doesn’t respect or even dislikes the franchise. I’ve listened to this particular whine for years and years, ever since there was an unimaginable eight-year gap between Super Metroid and Metroid Fusion. Never mind that other beloved series of yore, from Mega Man to Final Fantasy, have also gone similar periods without a new game. Never mind that non-Japanese fans of Nintendo’s own Earthbound are still denied the chance to play the final game in the series, and probably always will be. Never mind that Sonic fans suffered under a notorious drought of good games lasting two decades before Sonic Mania finally happened. None of that means shit: Metroid fans are the most persecuted, victimized, and unfairly treated fandom in video games.

Now, I’m the last guy to feel I need to defend a massive company like Nintendo, but in this case I’ll make an exception. Because just like Ghostbusters fans who can’t figure out their particular obsession just isn’t as relevant as they want it to be, Metroid fans need to grow up and start appreciating what they have gotten, rather than what they haven’t. Below are the three reasons why Metroid fanboys aren’t even the least bit as ill-used as they think are.

Almost Every Metroid Game has Been Excellent

The nature of video games is such that many more entries in a successful series are usually produced than in other mediums like film. Even a series like Metroid, which has been iterated less often than Nintendo’s other properties, has had eight fully fledged games since 1986, and 10 if you count the heavily re-worked upgrades of the original game and Return of Samus. Of those, only a single one, Other M, has been poorly received, and there’s no indication that’s what Nintendo expected. After all, fans were excited when the series got handed to Team Ninja; the idea that this was callous on Nintendo’s part, for not developing the game themselves, is something that only took hold retroactively, and you know what they say about hindsight. The original Metroid, Super Metroid, Fusion, and two of the three Prime entries are among the more critically lauded games in history, and excepting only Other M, all of the others have received highly positive reviews. The Metacritic average for the mainline Metroid games is an 89 of 100. Boy, look how much Nintendo hates this franchise, going out of their way to make good games for it and crap like that.

The Bad Spin Offs are Nothing Compared to Other Series

One of the big pieces of evidence Metroid fans like to roll out to prove Nintendo loathes Samus like unto the heat of a sun is that they’ve spent some of their time on it making poorly received spin offs, like Blast Ball and Federation Force, that don’t capture the spirit of the series. “Look!” they shout, from atop the Tower of Cluelessness high on the Oblivious Cliffs, “They aren’t doing what a bunch of us fans who have never programmed a game or made a decision about a franchise think they should be doing, so they clearly don’t care!”

You might already see the flaw in this thinking. By this standard, nearly every company with a long-running series hates that series. Capcom has inserted Mega Man into soccer and allowed him to be licensed out for extremely shitty PC games, and have pooped out almost as many crappy Resident Evil-themed spin-offs as there are main Resident Evil games. Square has pimped Final Fantasy out to every possible genre, from racing to fighting to freaking tower defense, all while taking ages to finish the next main entry in the series. Nintendo themselves have slapped Mario on every possible thing they can, and despite strong sales to dumb people, Mario Party is notorious for being a bunch of slapped together mini games for people who like their games to be completely random.

If bad spin-offs proved anything about what Nintendo thinks of Metroid, the fact they’ve spared it from as many as other series get would actually support the idea they are more protective of it.

Metroid Doesn’t Deserve as Much Love as You Think it Does

Economics 101 is now in session. All right, children: why does a company make things?

“To make their fans happy, Mr. Eft!”

Wrong, little Dingleberry! They make things to---say it with me---MAKE MONEY!

See, companies like money. And this is especially important for an industry with relatively low margins and high costs like video games, because folks like the evil satanic Metroid-hating demons at Nintendo need games to sell well not only to justify further games in that series, but to fund further games in that series. Unlike, say, Disney, they don’t typically have the option of busting out an Avengers and making 1000% profit. Unless it is something really massive and popular and guaranteed to sell, like Call of Duty or Pokemon, most franchises live entry to entry, relying on the previous one being profitable to decide if the next one will ever be made.

And here’s some economic reality for you: almost from the outset, Metroid has failed that test more often than it has passed it. Yes, the series has sold decently---for a minor franchise. The fact that it is legendary among gamers and highly influential among designers has not traditionally translated into the kind of money it needs to guarantee the entries keep rolling out. One of the most frequent desperate cries of the Lesser American Hardcore Metroid Fanboy plays out something like this: “If only Nintendo put as much effort in as they do for Mario and Zelda, it could be a real blockbuster!”

Except it couldn’t. And it has proven that time and again. It has sold, it is often said, respectably. That’s a business term for “We didn’t lose money…but it didn’t exactly pay our salaries, either.” Metroid’s critical and fan status is simply not reflected in sales, where Samus is holding at the 14th overall spot in Nintendo’s history. She’s managed to scrap together around 17 and a half million units moved in three decades, compared to just over a hundred million for Zelda and hundreds for Mario (that’s including every Mario game of any kind, but if you only include platformers, the series is still on top).

Simply put, Metroid doesn’t get the same attention as Mario and Zelda for the same reason Luke Cage or Cloak and Dagger don’t get as much love from Marvel as Spider-Man and X-Men: financially speaking, it doesn’t deserve it. No one argues that means Marvel hates Luke Cage; the sales just aren’t there to justify an equal amount of time, energy and resources.

Given all that, fans ought to be grateful the series is still around at all. Nintendo has tossed all of the Prime 4 resources spent so far down the crapper and re-started it just to get it right, when they would have been fully justified with just abandoning it. As a big fan of many minor characters and series, take it from me: when your preferred fan obsession is far from being top dog in the overall culture, sometimes you gotta stop whining and take what you get.

[fictioninmyblood]

Protector of Her Heart

Chapter Three

Note: I am new to writing fanfic (this is my first one). I welcome constructive criticism as well as pointers and tips for bettering my blog. Thank you for reading :)

Summary: Elinora is an empath’s version of Professor X, only a lot more powerful. She is an enhanced human with the ability to read the world’s emotions. Nick Fury has welcomed her into the fold, but with a fear of herself she has been quite reserved. A forced bonding night with the newly discovered Wakandan royalty brings her out of the shadows of fear and into the light of lust.

Warning: some language, implied smut, 18+

sithandwa sam - my love

umfana wam omncinane - my little warrior

Previous Chapter

--------------------------------------------------------------

From the moment they walked in, all eyes were on them. I mean when the avengers strut in with Wakandan royalty like they own the place, your eyes have no choice but to be drawn to the group. Even though Nora was terrified, with M’Baku walking with his hand protectively on the small of her back,  she was able to blend in with the group and not trip over her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to their private booth on the rooftop.

Shuri made quick work of getting their drinks sent up and urging Nora to take em down. The sooner they got the girl drunk, the sooner she'd loosen up and be more open to dancing.

Tony went to socialize while Natasha and Banner sat in a private corner creating their own bubble. Sam and Steve suckered James into drinking games at the bar. That left Okoye keeping a watchful eye on her King and Queen as Nakia dragged T’Challa to the dance floor. And Shuri was stranded alone with two of the most stubborn people ever, practically begging M’Baku and Nora to get on the dance floor.

“You two were seriously made for each other. How do you go to a club and not dance?” Shuri looked between the two exasperated by their lack of willingness to enjoy the moment.

“Well in my defense, I was half bribed, half threatened into coming. Plus I don't get in a dancing mood until the liquor gets me feeling more mellow and not self conscious.” At that, the waitress sat Nora’s third margarita in front of her. She thanked the girl and started to sip slow knowing that the alcohol was bound to kick in soon.

“And I am here to ensure the Jabari’s place in the future. I do not see how this does that.” M’Baku was not exactly lying, but he also wasn't telling the whole truth. He was concerned that this so called fun left everyone to their own devices, including him. He did not know how to act in this society without some guidance. But what scared him more was that he was alone with his love and didn't know how to dance which would help in his pursuit to woo her.

“Would it kill you to have at least SOME fun? Gah! There's no use, you're basically a wall, now Nora on the other hand should be pliable to my requests by now, yes?” She looked at back at the girl, noticing how she had started to sway to the music indicating that the the alcohol had finally taken affect.

Nora looked up like a deer in headlights and Shuri knew this was the perfect time to get the girl on the dance floor. She grabbed her by both hands pulling her to the dance floor and dancing around her making it clear that the only way out was to join in.

It had been a long while since the last time Nora danced and she truly did miss it. Having been a dancer since she was three, it was usually how she blocked out the world and shook off unwanted emotions. But being on the compound with prying eyes constantly on her made this the first plausible opportunity in almost three months. Laughing at Shuri’s antics and realizing that she did need this, she slowly let loose.

Pulsing to and fro, changing movements with the songs, Nora became the center of attention. It was surprising to say the least, but her group was absolutely shocked. Well everyone except Natasha, since she had watched how she navigated their kitchen.

Nora kept up with the dj, dancing away all of her worries. Several guys tried to keep up but couldn't until the music slowed down allowing one to come up behind her placing his hands on her hips as she swayed.

“You know for a fat girl, you dance like the skinny bitches I usually go for.”

And like that her bubble burst.

-------------------------

M’Baku had watched her move across the floor gracefully and skillfully. This was just another thing to add to his confused list. How can someone so in tune with their body hate it? She obviously knew what to do and sometimes her movements showed him a glimpse of the warrior she could become. And it all turned him on making it hard to watch her both figuratively and literally. Yet, he could not look away for he wanted to stay under her enticing spell. Having watched her all night, getting a sense of what she looked liked when comfortable and at ease, he immediately knew something was wrong with how she tensed up at whatever the interloper had to say.

At first M’Baku had only mildly wanted to throttle the man when he first made his approach. It angered him to see a strangers hands on his woman but usually Shuri would come dance with the girl effectively cockblocking. That paired with Nora’s dance skills deterred the riff raff. So it was no surprise that M’Baku figured that if this one was anything like the others then he would not last. But Shuri was nowhere to be found and this one was definitely not like the others, he, was stupid.

The moment M’Baku perceived him as a threat  he was by Nora’s side catching the last of what she said.

“... and that is not a compliment.”

“You should be glad I even considered a pig like you!”

M’Baku rose to his full height towering over the boy most would consider a man. “It would be in your best interest to close your filthy mouth before I cut out your tongue.”

Nora pulled on M’Baku trying to get him away from the guy. This was escalating and the guy was too idiotic to sense the danger he had put himself into. Nora knew that M’Baku would crush the man before he let him speak another ill word against her. She had to protect him from himself so she moved in front of his line of sight moving his hands to her waist. Putting her hands on his both sides of his face she made him focus on her.

“Hey, I'm okay. Don't listen to him, he's just an ignorant and entitled boy.”

M’Baku was still looking between her and the idiot in question which was not good. People were staring and the bouncers were headed towards them looking like they were ready to take down her giant. It didn't help that the guy wouldn't shut up, but thankfully Sam, Steve, and James stepped in warning the guy that his tongue was getting him in trouble.

“Is everything okay over here?”... one of the bouncers asked.

Steve stepped in while James sized them up.

“Yes gentlemen, this young man here was just walking away from his deathbed.”

“Doesn't sound too okay Steve, you sure you don't need our help?” the biggest bouncer said. At that her group breathed a sigh of relief, they knew Steve so M’Baku was safe from being kicked out or worse.

Sam and James turned to glare at the guy hoping he now understood how much of a danger zone he was in.

“Naw I'm sure he gets it now, right?” Steve looked pointedly at the guy.

He started to nervously mumble finally realizing that all these big ass guys were on the girl’s side,  “yea, um I don't want no problems.”

Moving around Nora, M’Baku growled, “and you will apologize,” while his face said ‘or else’. He turned slightly to allow the guy to look at her.

“I'm sorry for what I said. It won't happen again.” He scrambled away hoping to try his luck with someone else.

M’Baku, Steve, Sam, James, and the bodyguards then turned to a fuming Nora. Confused at her anger they just gave her a wide berth.

“You meatheads! I could've handled that myself. I do not need ALL of you to protect me. One would have been just fine.” Her embarrassment came out like anger, she was actually grateful they were all there but at this moment she just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Everyone retreated except M’Baku, he could tell that whatever the man said had hit a nerve. Placing his hands on her hips… “Are you okay sithandwa sam?”

She sighed and shook her hair into her face. “Yea, but I need another drink.” Shaking him off she went to the bar ordering a lemon drop martini and a shot of whiskey. Throwing back the shot at the bar and then going back to their booth to sip at the martini she took this time to really look at M’Baku.

“Why did you step in like that? You owe me nothing, I am not your girlfriend. The guys are at least part of the same team as me and the bouncers know Steve, but you? I just met you today.” Figuring out the puzzle of what they were was hard enough without all the liquor currently running through her veins, but she had to know how they were connected.

M’Baku was nervous and displeased with the setting, but he didn't dare take her sudden interest in having a conversation for granted.

“Because you are mine and I always protect what is mine.”

She looked at him bewildered by his comment. Crossing her arms and becoming defensive. “I am not yours buddy. This is America and being in a relationship is not as simple as diverting to caveman tactics.”

M’Baku was amused by her sudden boldness, but he was not going to let her brush him off so easily. Swiftly, he moved into her space causing her to uncross her arms and lean back on them. She had no choice but to look him in the eyes when he furthered his intrusion by getting in her face to the point where they were sharing the same breath. “It does not matter where we are, the answer will still be the same. You. Are. Mine. An instant connection like ours does not bend to the rules of superficial love. I know you are mine in my bones, in my soul. The same goes in reverse, I am just as much yours and I will not allow you to shy away from either fact umfana wam omncinane.”

Looking in his eyes, she realized that all the liquor in the world couldn't drown out their bond. She could feel their desires pulsing as one, intertwining in a way she rarely saw. She could practically taste their impossible connection and it was the most decadent cuisine her palette had ever sampled. Her body was responding in kind to his dominant behavior and it took all she had not to kiss him and let her emotions take control. Brushing past him, effectively moving him back into a regular sitting position, she grabbed her martini and finished it quickly. “Fine, I won't deny it for now, but I'm not sober enough to finish this conversation. Dance with me?”

She stood holding her hand to him while he looked at it skeptically. “I do not know how to dance and you're obviously an expert.”

Grabbing his hand and leaning in to whisper in his ear as seductively as she could manage, “you don't have to do anything except hold on and stay close, I'll do the rest.”

M’Baku didn't know how to respond to her alcohol induced self-confidence so he let her drag him to the dance floor. Turning so that her back was to his front she placed his hands on her hips swaying to the beat. 

Focusing on her was all it took for them to be plunged into their own world, completely shutting everyone else out. It was as if they were one entity instead of two. She turned in his arms locking her arms around his neck making eye contact. 

They stayed like that, eyes locked, swaying, for what seemed like forever. She felt the moment he had decided that he was going to taste her and she let him. In the matter of the second it took for their lips to meet she felt sparks of electricity throughout her body, an intoxicating feeling took hold, and his need to make her his pulsed in her veins. She felt his thoughts and it took her by surprise causing her to pull away and look him in the eyes. Running her hands over his shoulders she gripped the base of his neck pulling him back in for more, drinking from his soul it seemed. It wasn’t until T’Challa cleared his throat rather loudly that they even realized it was time to go.

Out of breath and suddenly extremely embarrassed at her actions, Nora jumped back from M’Baku as if he had burned her. She was right in that thought because the kiss had branded her as his and him as hers. But without the intoxicating pull of their kiss or the foggy mellow feeling of her drinks she reverted back to her shell.

As they moved to the entrance Nora got in the car with Steve, Sam and James ignoring everyone’s stares and looking out the window. M’Baku was extremely hurt that she was back to avoiding all contact and she felt it. His emotions had replaced the worlds, it was as if his emotions amplified and everyone else’s was drowned out, even with the barrier of the vehicles.

When they got back she practically ran into her room stripping down to nothing and burying herself in her covers. She was too exhausted to deal with what she was feeling and prayed that sleep would help her escape.

--------------------------

M’Baku was struggling to get a grip on his emotions, but it was as if his weren’t the only ones there. It was hard not to strangle T’Challa for ruining their moment, but he was more so angry at Nora’s insistence at ignoring something so powerful. When she ignored him and chose to ride with Steve and the guys it took everything not rip the door off the hinges and demand she look at him again. 

When he got in their car he was grateful to be sitting down because he was hit with wave after wave of emotions that weren’t his. It was Nora, she may have looked cool calm and collected, but internally she was beating herself up. Confusion, self loathing, unworthiness, and underneath it all a fierce longing to be loved. He understood what she felt now, but was confused as to why he was feeling it.

They were behind her car so when he got back she was already in her room. T’Challa came up behind him placing a hand on his shoulder as comfort. M’Baku looked back like a lost puppy, unsure how to proceed.

“Let her go, she needs time to sort out her feelings.”

Going to his own quarters he knew when she was sleep because the events of the day finally caught up and exhaustion took hold. He prayed that she would find her way to him, falling asleep wishing she was in his arms.

Chapter Four

Tags: @skysynclair19 @biglipsandafropicks

[playingthevictim--again]

LWYMMD: Why the Haters Keep Hating

People can argue that @taylorswift messed up. She “went into hiding” (a phrase I hate) and people reveled in this supposed downfall. Murals to her life and death rose up. It was hard to imagine how Taylor Swift could bounce back from all that.

But she’s back. And now everyone is tripping over themselves to be the first to say of course the woman who made a living writing biting song about all the wrongs she’s been dealt would write a song about Kimye. Of course the woman who plays nice but works tirelessly to bury her exes and wash her hands of any fault would like to say she’s still excluded from the narrative. Of course the woman who made a career off of playing the victim would start afresh with a song called “Look What You Made Me Do.”

Only, if you actually listen to the song and the context in which Taylor has released it, that’s not what she’s saying at all.

In the music video, you see tongue-in-cheek images of exactly the atmosphere the media has built around her. She crashes her car and, even with a grammy in hand (these accolades meant to make people take her and her work seriously), all they care about is the crash, the fire, the drama. She leads a cult of pretty, brainwashed girls because she is a calculating ring leader who does it all for publicity sake. She stands on a tower of public personas all clawing their way to the top, all piled uselessly beneath her because she is, after all, dead, her reputation destroyed. And then the group of men in I TS crop tops, eight exes who were each PR stunts she ate up and spat out for the drama, drama. But the best part is the end, where fifteen Taylor’s line up to complain in exactly the same words we’ve been hearing for years.

She is so fake. What a bitch. She can’t be that surprised. She always has to play the victim. And isn’t it delicious to wrap it all up with a nod to the straw that arguably broke the camel’s back?

“I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.”

Only, we never could exclude her. Everyone writes about her and talks about her, even when she’s not doing anything but romance her new boyfriend in Rome or frolic with friends at Fourth of July. And so the old Taylor is dead, right? Kim/Calvin/Katy/whoever else buried her, the media reveled at the funeral, and she’s gone.

But the “new” Taylor isn’t about her adopting a grunge look or being more acidic or unforgiving. Rather, it’s a middle finger to the haters — the haters she hasn’t been able to shake in her 10+ years in the industry. And that hate is at its worst sexist, at its best simply unfair.

This double standard is frustrating to a lot of people in the industry, except when it comes to Taylor Swift. After all, pop music is arguably built on feuds and bad blood and romances and dalliances and all the drama. Madonna, Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears, they have all profited on the notoriety of who their songs are about. Kanye and Jay-Z don’t have feuds, they have beef. Nicki Minaj comes at everyone, but that’s just her style. It’s Taylor Swift who is problematic, who somehow doesn’t go about it the “right” way.

That’s the world we live in.

And it’s one where people spend hours and articles sifting through exactly why Taylor Swift doesn’t deserve the success she’s garnered. Because of her wealth, her status, her beauty, her inspirations, her calculations, her pretty friends, her privilege, her lack of a political voice.

It’s not that Taylor Swift can’t be problematic; she is, after all, human. But people put in so much time and effort to trash a woman who’s only job, really, is to write catchy songs about HER feelings about HER life/breakups and now stands up to give HER take.

LWYMMD isn’t about Kim and Kanye twisting her arm into some boohoo, woe is me, you ruined my life pop hit. LWYMMD is about an environment that won’t let Taylor win — even when she wins — for no real tangible reason. Look What You Made Her Do?

She broke records across all platforms — youtube, streaming, radio, sales — and she did it without playing their game. She didn’t have to go on an apology tour; she didn’t have to show up on GMA and explain herself; she didn’t even go to the VMAs and make nice with Katy Perry.

She posted a link to a new sound and watched as the haters and the naysayers all clicked “download.” Three days later, that music video has almost 100 million views. That is power, and that is empowering.

She let us think about the title, she let us listen to the song. She watched us whip ourselves into a tizzy over who it’s about, how it references Kim and Kanye. And then she dropped the music video. That splashy performance piece let us all know that she has been listening, that she has been reading, that she knows exactly what you’re saying from all the vicious exposés to the snake-ridden instagram comments. And you know the best part? She played all of us.

You helped her win everything in an atmosphere where she cannot win anything.

I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s the modus operandi for a victim. That sounds like someone taking over her narrative and playing it her way. And I definitely don’t think that’s some Trump-era frivolity; after all, she’s been playing this way for ten years. What that is is a genius marketing strategy that plays us all for fools. Because she is still coming out on top even when the odds, the fans, the haters are stacked against her.

This is one song off of a new, yet-to-be-heard album, and all it proves right now is that Taylor Swift is here to play. She will be taken seriously, not because of the think pieces and the Buzzfeed articles and the tweets either for or against her reincarnation, but because she is going to win the game and she’s going to do it on her own terms.

I think that is badass. What’s more, I think it’s admirable.

Earlier this year Taylor Swift took on a money-grubby pervert suing her for getting him fired after he grabbed her butt–sorry, her ass–during a meet and greet. She took the stand, cool and collected, and batted back innocuous questions on if she was really a victim, what damage did he really cause, shouldn’t she be more upset? Not even her haters could complain about her testimony which was filled with unapologetic zingers that proved how smart and level-headed she can be.

That’s Taylor Swift. She doesn’t stand for bullying, not of her character or her choices. Sure, she didn’t march, she didn’t say who she voted for, she didn’t tweet about Kesha. Instead, she paid for Kesha’s defense; she donated to women’s shelters and organizations; she quietly funded educational programs and musical scholarships that speak loudly of her priorities and interests. She cares about her community, enriches the lives of her fans, donates to the causes she cares about. She apologized for co-opting the conversation from Nicki Minaj and she said her piece and moved on when she was caught “lying” about the Kimye “Famous”-gate. But, hey, she is not perfect and it is after all her penchant for the dramatics that make for boppy tunes.

So you can hate her music, hate her style, hate her “fake” persona. I think you’re wrong and I definitely think you should find somewhere else to channel all that negative energy, but, sure, go for it. Hate on her lyrics, her character, her sound. You should just know that you’re the joke now.

These ill-conceived articles, these thirsty titles begging for clicks, these half-assed, half-researched take-downs — this maniacal obsession shadowing her every move, analyzing every lyric, cheering every misstep — all of it just means you’re listening. And so she is going to continue to win. She’s going to top charts and break records and she’s going to do it without breaking a sweat, shedding a tear, or getting in front of a camera to apologize for what you think of her. Instead, she is going to get in your head with a chorus you can’t quit even if you want to. Especially if you want to. Because she wants you to know…it’s on you.

That’s what you made her do.

Link: https://lettersfromshelby.wordpress.com/2017/08/31/look-what-you-made-me-do/

[talesfromthefade]

Eloise Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford (Cullen POV) || SFW || 1123 words

“I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of,” Cullen had protested a bit defensively, hands resting on the pommel of his sword where it is sheathed at his side.

Words that came out almost on instinct in defense of his former Order while they had all argued amongst themselves at the War Table over who best to seek out to assist with sealing the Breach haunt him now. He'd not thought, but none of them had missed the way the young Mage across the table visibly stiffened and did her best to appear small in the wake of his words. She doesn't flee the room, but her eyes make it clear it's a near thing. Pieces of a history Leliana and the rest of them haven't yet been able to ask her about and are still putting together begins to become clear. The scars on her face, her skittishness around some of the soldiers, particularly those in heavy armor, and now this. Ostwick. She knows what Templars are capable of too, Cullen had thought, his stomach dropping out from under him.

The Commander shakes his head, attempting to turn his attention from memories back to the reports in front of him with little success. They know the story now. Or most of it, at least, although the young woman herself hasn't spoken of it. The rising tensions despite her Circle's commitment to neutrality boiling over after an impatient apprentice murdered their First Enchanter. The Templars calling for the Rite of Annulment. From there it had been a slaughter- on both sides. The Tower all but destroyed in the conflict. A few of the senior mages of Ostwick could be accounted for in those they recruited from Redcliffe, but not many; not even half of their original numbers. She's said little about her time in the Circle, even before the uprising, but she must have had friends...

Cullen has seen enough, and indeed, has enough scars of his own to recognize the ones that mar the right side of her face come from a sword. Knows too, that perhaps the most formidable ones aren't so easily visible. She may no longer be quite so jumpy or skittish around the Commander as when they first met, but it's clear she's not relaxed, at ease the way she is with Varric or Cole.

Given her history one might have expected her to view the spirit through a similar lens as Vivienne- a demon not to be trusted, but they would be mistaken. Though a powerful Mage, Cassandra informs him in her various incoming reports back to Haven from the Hinderlands some months ago, her strongest skills and focus seem to be largely focused on supportive and defensive spells-wards, barriers, and most especially: healing magic, rather than throwing elemental spells at their enemies. The Ostwick Circle it seems, at least until its own uprising, was a fairly progressive one in that regard. Spirit Healers, his Chantry training had taught him, were among the most powerful of all mages, and the most dangerous- calling not just upon the Fade, but spirits from the other world to assist in their spells. They are to be always carefully watched, and never trusted. Perhaps it is this prior and unique history with spirits that make her so much more amiable to Cole's offer of support, but the two are often to be found in one another's company- or at least, whenever Cole wants and allows himself to be found. And though, he's glad of the fact she seems to be opening up more since she first joined their ranks, this too concerns him. Cole as a spirit of Compassion, if Solas' explanation of him is to be believed, is irresistibly drawn to hurt. Cullen has seen enough of the spirit himself, and the little notes and 'gifts' he leaves him to confirm as much.

Any sentiments on his part, therefore, must naturally be not only ill-advised for his position in the Inquisition in relation to hers and the potential complications it could bring, but wholly unwelcome given her history. And yet, he can't seem to help it. Cullen's eyes had been drawn to her from the start, scars and all, and his admiration and affection have only grown since. He does not fool himself for a moment in thinking that he's made any similarly lasting and positive such impressions on her, however. In fact, it is all rather- well, pitiful, really- how predictable and tragic he's allowed his narrative to become. There's a certain almost sense of dejá vu about the whole thing too that makes him question whether this is some kind of test or punishment of the Maker's design.

Cullen has never cared a fig for nobles, all titles and gold, excess, and never speaking plainly. Leliana and Josephine might excel and delight in playing 'the game', but Cullen finds it all irritating at best, and positively sickening at its worst. Thinking of the other members of House Trevelyan in particular makes his stomach curdle and blood boil. She's not the first possessed of magic to have been turned over to the Templars by her family, he thinks he recalls the young and mouthy mage from the Anderfels that Greigor always complained about forever trying to escape, may have been such a case. Still, he had been in the room when they’d received and the Herald had read the letter from her mother and father. While many of her more distant relatives had to be cautioned against dropping hers or the Inquisition’s name idly, Lord and Lady Trevelyan scarcely acknowledged the young woman they were addressing was their daughter, and Cullen had had to leave to get a grip on his anger and memories of the terrified and hateful man he’d allowed the events of the Circle to make of him for so many- too many- years.

If his son or daughter were to prove to be a mage… He’s well aware of the dangers they would face, that those around them might be in, but as soon as the thought has begun to take shape in his mind, Cullen can’t fathom giving up one of his children to the Circle. Of never seeing or speaking to them again. Never watching them grow, or knowing what they made of themselves. Maker, but how is it possible he’s never truly thought about it that way before? And why should he do so now, except that he once again finds himself laboring under an ill-advised infatuation with a mage. A mage who can’t possibly want anything to do with him, he thinks with a sigh, shaking his head as he begins his trek down the mountain to check on their troops.