#i think battle of the linguist mages (which is not even one of my favorite books but it's just so batshit that i have to respect

[coquelicoq]

[bolts upright in the shower] i need to reorganize my bookshelves

[fadedapparition]

i think there’s plenty of other ways to read it, but based on how i interpret it, the relationship between sten and the warden is my favorite romance in the dragon age trilogy bar none. it is not textually explicit. there are no sten kisses; there is no sten sex (stenx?). but the way these characters grow alongside one another before their inevitable separation is so painfully gorgeous.

and i honestly think it's stronger for the fact that the warden's relationship with sten is dissimilar from the official romances of origins, because the way sten expresses love differs from how non-qunari characters might. it's not as if he doesn't experience it, or that the warden has to teach him what love is or anything silly like that; this isn't the cliched narrative wherein a stoic, foreign-y alien has to be shown human feelings by a character with more western cultural coding. sten already has a sophisticated, if less familiar, conception of love and commitment - it’s just that the major way in which it differs, the lack of any linkage between romantic love and sexual intimacy, is also the only thing that separates a bioware “romance option” from a regular companion. all the other traditional signifiers of romantic love are there. he tells the warden she's smart, competent, and valuable, both in her role as a warden and to him as a person. they share artwork and wax lyrical about turtles. he disobeys his orders for her. he tells her he trusts her with his life. despite any cultural gulf, the linguistic expression of love is the same in common, elvish, and qunlat: he calls her "my heart."

the final conversation the warden has with him is one of the most beautiful and crushing parts of origins to me. in it, he tells her he's leaving by ship for par vollen, and she can promise to meet him at the docks to go with him. both the warden and sten are fully aware that they're lying to one another here. following him to par vollen is impossible: he's expected to report back to his superiors, and especially if the warden is a(n unshackled) mage, the most likely outcome if she goes to par vollen is her immediate capture and execution. when sten eventually does return home, he's subject to re-education, not because he's abandoned the qun but because as strong as his politics and sense of patriotism still are, his feelings for the warden threaten to supersede them. to the qunari state, love for someone who also lives within the auspices of the qun is benign, but love for anyone who exists externally to it poses a political threat - and the warden can't become viddathari to remedy that, even if she wants to.

there is no way for them to abandon their roles, and they cannot abide by them while remaining with one another, but they cling to the fantasy that a life together is possible until the very last moment. sten loves her, so he makes promises he knows he can't fulfill, with the exception of one: that when they find themselves on opposite sides of a battle in an inevitable, cataclysmic global war, he will see her and turn away.

tl;dr sten and the warden have a gorgeous tragic romance and you can not change my mind

[crystalrequiem]

The Voice that Urged Orpheus

[Part 1/6(?)] [TRC] Summary: Kurogane tries to grapple with how attractive Fai is, fails to propose marriage, and is generally a gay disaster. 

Tags: Kuro/Fai, Canon Universe, Post-Canon,

Warnings:  suggestive thoughts (nothing graphic), overly sappy feelings, Kurogane’s unique combination of emotional intelligence and social incapability. [Part 1] - [Part 2]

Hello friends. It’s been a while since I posted Fic here. I will probably try to get this up on AO3 all in one piece? but I’m a creature that craves validation so it’s up here first piecemeal i guess.  As a hint of this thing’s intended trajectory, its joke title is “5 times Kurogane sat consumed with lust for the evening and 1 time he got to do something about it” So-- maybe eventually some citrusy content of whichever flavor... >_>

Tomoyo did this to torment him, he thinks.

Gliding through the room easy as a fish in water, the Mage makes himself at home as the life of the party. However stilted the his usual attempts at Japanese, with Mokona here to translate he runs circles around the courtiers and their linguistic games. He acts every bit the part of the charming prince he should have been in a kinder life—darting from conversation to conversation, quick with an easy smile and a cutting joke, still managing to keep a careful eye on Syaoran.

Watching Fai smile honest and free of the weight of worry still seems to Kurogane like a miracle, but it doesn’t ruin him. On its own, it doesn’t drive him to hide away on the sidelines, hand clenched tight around his artificial wrist as he struggles to keep his own thoughts in check. No. The real torture derives from the indecent spill of Fai’s hair—a delicately ornamented, flowing stream of gold that traces his pale neck down to a blue silk collar worn just a little too loose. It’s the way he moves in that thing—ridiculous sleeves so long they nearly brush the floor, but somehow he hasn’t lost an ounce of grace. It’s—

The sight of Fai in nearly any garment of Nihon would still have struck him—his traitorous, possessive mind all too willing to catch on thoughts of the mage in his clothes and in his land—but Tomoyo had gone to lengths to make it worse. The cut and drape of what she made for Fai would advertise their relationship on its own, but she’d once again seen fit to embroider the black moon at his chest. Standard for any shinobi under her command, but Fai is not, and with Kurogane’s status as it is… It’s safe to assume every single person here knows what kind of item they are. Just thinking about it is enough to drive a man to distraction.

As if on cue, the mage catches his eye across the crowd and grants him a quiet smile. For an instant, he forgets how to breathe. Fai’s stupid grin can send his heart stuttering in his chest on a good day, but looking like that—

Kurogane growls and turns away. He hopes to whatever god still listens that his face doesn’t reflect the sorts of things running through his head. The fingers wrapped around his metal wrist grip tight enough to hurt, if he’d had any nerves.

“Blue really is his color.”

He has long believed that Tomoyo possesses an extra special sense for his embarrassment.

“Did you need something, your highness?” He grits. Her bell-like peals of laughter fill the shadowed alcove at his expense.

“Who can say? Maybe I just wanted to visit with my favorite subject.” He doesn’t bother granting her a response. He’s almost glad for her distraction, however ill-intentioned it may be. At least it gives him a chance to collect himself. “How much longer do you think you can stay this time?”  Kurogane shrugs in answer.

“Same as usual. Just until the Manjuu says we need to move again. Maybe another day or two I’d guess.” He starts to relax, the heat in his veins cooling ever so slowly, until Tomoyo adds with a pout,

“Not enough time for a wedding then.”

“Princess,” he chokes, mortally affronted as she laughs harder. He tries to tune her out, but keeping his cool presents a serious challenge while he can’t help imagining…

He doesn’t know what exact moment he’d decided he needed Fai at his side always. Maybe as early as Yama? Maybe something in him knew even before that. Either way, his vision of the future rings empty without Fai there to meet it with him, whatever form that might take. Co-caretakers for the kids, battle companions, friends or paramours—whatever Fai deigns to give him, he wants. It’s only somehow in all of that… he’s never really thought about something like a wedding. He really could ask, couldn’t he? Would Fai want that?

He tunes back in to reality and finds Tomoyo staring, all quiet acceptance and expectation. She likes to tease, but in this he senses no joke. She means it—wants him to know that she does. The court in Nihon accepts male lovers easily enough, but he has never heard of a marriage between them. She means to offer him that: the possibility of tradition shattered beneath the weight of the imperial throne.

“You are my dearest and oldest friend. When your sojourn ends for good, I will make sure this is a land you want to return to.” Tomoyo flashes a gentle smile, fleeting between the narrow gap of fan and hair. “The court could use some new ways of thinking.” She murmurs as she looks away, back towards the party and the majority of the court. As usual, her political shrewdness surpasses him. He should have realized she had more reason to parade Fai about than to tease her favorite former protector.

“Princess Tomoyo, I—” He doesn’t know how to answer her, but he doesn’t get the chance to try. She only shakes her head and stares past him, her eyes locked to something over his shoulder.

“Fai! How are you finding the party?” She chirrups, holding her fan a little higher to hide her expression, which is far too self-satisfied. Kurogane freezes like a child caught sneaking sweets.

“Perfectly well, thank you, your highness.” With his thoughts running rampant, Fai’s presence burns like a brand in his awareness. He shuts his eyes and tries not to think too hard about the crescent moons embroidered starkly on that damnable outfit, or exactly what he wants them to mean.

Unfortunately Fai doesn’t understand what ails him and mistakes his attempt at control for annoyance. “Alright there, Kuro-Grumpy?” He teases, voice colored by a fleck of genuine concern as he brushes his fingers against the base of Kurogane’s neck. Tomoyo laughs at the way he stiffens. She knows exactly what she’s done and isn’t at all sorry.

“I’m sure he is,” she teases, coquettish as she gathers her train in one hand. “I’d best leave you two be. Doubtless you have much to talk about.”

Doubtless, his thoughts echo, indignant. He marks her for a traitor as she leaves him be with only Fai and his racing mind for company. He tries to use his feelings of annoyance to strip this buzzing hyper-awareness away… to little effect.

“…Kuro?” He lets the silence linger too long, and the mage grows worried. Kurogane huffs and his gaze falls back on Fai at last.

He’s standing far too close, he thinks as his vision floods with the man he loves most. Too close and too beautiful and waiting too long for him to respond. He tries to find an answer to Fai’s concern and forgets how to use words. Struck stupid by the sight of his magician all he can manage is a hoarse,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Fai echoes warily, expression warring between amusement and apprehension. “Is everything okay?”

Kurogane catches Fai’s gaze and the rest of the world seems to fade from view, drowned by perfect blue. Blue now—not the stubborn amber of blood-lust or the jarring blot of onyx in an uncertain world—just blue. Bright and alive and still here with him after everything and damn it… he wants Fai by his side for all the hues that might follow.

“What’s wrong?” the mage grows more anxious with each second of silence and starts to draw his hand away, already turning to try to determine what threat has Kurogane unsettled. This won’t do. He catches the hand before it can retreat and keeps Fai’s attention, even as his feelings dam his throat closed. He closes his eyes and tries to find a way to explain what he wants, but the words just don’t come.

You look nice, is banal and, hey, marry me? Seems like a bad thing to spring on someone unexpected at a party. I love you so much, it hurts, is true, but sounds like an accusation and not one he means to levy. He doesn’t regret any part of this. Not for a single instant.

He takes his usual route and settles for action when words fail him—cradles Fai’s captured hand with his own and presses his lips to the center of Fai’s palm.

He looks the way he does every time Kurogane manages to demonstrate some degree of the depths of his feelings: as though the floor has fallen beneath his feet and he has no ground to stand on.

“Oh,” the mage murmurs, backlit by a low light that bounces subtly off the silk of his clothes and the shining gold of his hair. Kurogane wants little more than to pull him deeper into shadow and kiss him until everything he struggles to say coalesces without words.

He doesn’t look away as he shifts their positions to let Fai’s shaking fingers linger over the shape of his jaw. He keeps his hold on Fai’s wrist gentle—tries to provide an anchor to reality as the blonde’s thoughts race behind his eyes. “…Kuro? I’m not…sure this is the time or place for—whatever this is.”

He’s not wrong, but he also makes no move to pull away. Kurogane sighs and closes his eyes, tries to block out the vision that captivates him even as he leans into Fai’s touch. He can’t do more than that with the party still buzzing, barely concealed behind the thin veneer of privacy the alcove affords. He has to say something. He can’t leave it be—not now with his mind so locked on the idea of forever.

“I—Fai. When all this is over, do you, maybe—”

He almost says it then. He doesn’t’ even know the words on the tip of his tongue—they spill forth organically, easily for once in his life and he’s going to say something, even if he doesn’t quite know what. So of course that’s when the kids find them.

“Aha! Mokona’s super secret technique, Finding Mommy and Daddy!” the blasted bun’s cheery announcement treads roughshod over his every nerve. Probably Fai’s too if he had to guess; the mage jerks back as if he’s been burned, his awful fake smile plastered back into place. “Oh no! Did we interrupt?”

…we…?

Kurogane takes a deep breath and dares to turn around. Sure enough, there stand both Syaoran and Mokona. The Manjuu is perfectly chipper but Syaoran at least has the good grace to look embarrassed.

“S-sorry!” he stutters, face a burning red. “I didn’t know you were—uh…. We’ll just go over here, and—”

Fai comes to their rescue as usual. All too used to acting despite his feelings, he casts off embarrassment like a shroud and bustles forth to reassure the kid.

“Nothing to worry about!” he crows, “We were just about to head back in to the fray.” He glides closer to Syaoran and blocks the lingering electricity in the air with distance. Every motion still so damnably graceful—Kurogane feels further doomed with every breath. He crosses his empty arms and leans into the wall, watching his love retreat.  

“Ask me later?” Fai mouths as he rushes away, the corners of his eyes soft with apology. Kurogane huffs and musters something like a smile to reassure him.

“Sure,” he mouths back, though he still doesn’t really know what he wants to say.

…this is going to be a thing, isn’t it? He can just feel it.