#i've been thinking a lot about how those two might play with formality within their language(s)

[magistralucis]

Home sweet home [Trazyn/Orikan snippet]

(Working on a full version of this necrontyr Trazyn/Orikan request from @beril66 from some weeks ago. This is a snippet near the very beginning of the fic. Trazyn accepts Orikan's invitation to visit his private sanctum, under the condition he refrain from touching things without permission; given that they're flirting shamelessly before they've had the chance to sit down, you can see where this will end. 😂

Fic will be NSFW but this snippet isn't. Just two wise men having a wander.)

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"By the gods." Trazyn exclaimed in a whisper as they stepped past the door. "What is that?"

So Sannet had kept his secret, after all. Orikan was pleased. "It is the void, my lord."

"Over Mandragora?"

Orikan nodded. Trazyn had little choice but to accept it for the time being, but through the initial minutes of their entry he kept glancing up in disbelief. After all, despite the cryptek's claims, this void contained absolutely nothing of the Mandragoran skyscape.

The sanctum was about the size of a banquet-hall. Shelves and desks partitioned out each section, and the boundaries of the room's ceiling melted permanently outwards to a night sky swirling with stars. Since Trazyn had seen the tower building was domed, sealed over in other words, this was unusual; what was more, the skies over Mandragora were hazy at this time of year, whereas the sanctum's void was as clear as nowhere on the planet was. The works of sandstorms, towering industrial complexes, and falling stars did not exist in this place. Frozen in time, the mastery of chronomancers.

"Please come in. There's so much more to see."

Trazyn's cane clicked softly on the ground. Orikan lit a gauss-lamp and slipped his hand into the lord's. Save for starlight that was the only sort of illumination in the sanctum, glowing from standing braziers and orbucula studded along the walls, tinting everything viridian.

Laid out on a platform were several pieces of sempiternal weave, given to me by the Ogdobekh to examine, lord archivist. Lining the shelves were the tomes Orikan had collected over a lifetime of learning, including the ones recently gifted to him by Trazyn, copied in the archivist's own exquisite hand. Small elaborate glassworks dotted one cabinet, each refracting trapped light into infinite pools, hints of his interest in plasmancy. Trazyn rather thought they resembled Orikan's eyes. "Green they are, as green as spring, yet simmering with the void's furnace. They seem to me the way you gazed when we were met for the first time."

"Really?"

Orikan looked askance at him, somewhere between startled and smiling. It was not generally accurate to claim the Diviner saw anybody, for his eyes held the emptiness of oracles, forever unfocused and unbound to present realities. Most necrontyr lords felt this to be unbearably insolent (one of the many reasons why chronomancers went veiled) so for an overlord to remark on it fondly was a change. "I confess I'm skeptical they seemed like anything, since I was under my veil at the time."

"Now the master doth protest too much," Trazyn sighed in mock-aggravation, much to the Diviner's delight. "I still saw you, Orikan, we were many days at Gheden together. Do you not recall the tea-breaks, those long recesses, the banquets we the Nihilakh threw in honour of our guests? You had to lift the cloth sometime."

Orikan stifled a laugh. In those days he'd been an untiled cryptek, and Trazyn a young brash lord of Gheden, and they had probably spent more time being scolded by their respective dynasties than talking to one another. Still, they'd made an impression. "But then it isn't right to say it was the first time, would it?"

They moved further into the sanctum. Homelike objects began to appear, tea-things and cushions and robes hanging against the wall, and Trazyn surveyed each aspect with a different kind of fascination than before. "Whether it was or wasn't, it was enough times to promote your starlit eyes to truth. You look at me perfectly well nowadays, I've years of empirical evidence to prove it." He glanced back, fondly exasperated. "For the love of the solar gods, Orikan, would you rather I said they were dull?"

In other words: it's a compliment, dear one, learn to take it. The astromancer thought that was fair. "I suppose not, my lord."

"Trazyn." The archivist turned fully to face him, their hands still joined in the middle. Already his flesh burned with want. "You know you may call me Trazyn, like before. I'd rather gotten used to it."

Orikan smiled playfully. "Lord."

At that the archivist broke his word and drew the cryptek into an embrace, kissing him fiercely at once. Orikan allowed it, for as far as silencing methods went, he enjoyed this one greatly. With that they established that the rules were malleable that night, and that with a little patience and creativity, something wonderful might come of it.

[vyl3tpwny]

I've been wanting to learn how to play piano but I have absolutely no idea where to start. Do you have any tips for this?

i never had lessons and have no idea how to actually play piano properly no matter how good it MIGHT seem i am at it. i just play by ear so i dont rlly know whats happening LOL.

best advice i can give is learn how to play fifth chords. pick any note on a keyboard and then whatever note is 7 semitones (keys, including the black ones) up from it, add that. play both notes at the same time and that's a fifth chord. then experiment with adding a note in the middle of those two notes. play around and see how each combination feels. once you've gotten that down, move the notes up and down octaves. say you have a fifth minor chord, ADD the lowest note of that (root note) and move it to the lower octave (12 semitones down). that adds a lot of extra fullness to it because you're enforcing the chord with a bass note essentially.

once you have a good idea on how to play chords using this method, you can start to experiment with putting chords together in sequence, i.e; a progression. there really aren't any rules for any of this, but there are lots of progressions and chord pairings that obviously work for different contexts. just play around by choosing one chord and then finding a chord that should come next. play them in sequence and see how it makes you feel. then choose another one to add on. and so forth.

once you have some experience making progressions, you can start to get more noodly and fiddly with your progressions. that chord you're playing, instead of playing it as one sustained thing, dance your fingers around and see about making those chords move around within their legal notes. add that to whenever you play out a progression.

this is pretty much how i learned how to play piano i taught myself by ear and have no formal training and i dont even know that much traditional 'music theory' aside from some otherwise necessary terminology. i even decided to just pretend i knew how to play jazz piano at one point by playing big complex chords even if they sounded wrong or dissonant. eventually, i developed a muscle memory for things that sounded good and can somehow play some reasonable jazz piano now i guess. trial and error, fake it till you make it really.

heres a video i put up on twitter a few days ago of my own piano playing. again, no formal training, entirely self taught. my advice is probably super ill informed and a very incorrect method to learning piano but it worked for me i think. even if it isn't everything you personally need to learn, maybe it's a cool jumping off point idk. thanks for asking!

[heretherebedork]

On control through power versus control through manipulation through the means of food and the main and minor families

So, this started because I've been writing a lot about how Vegas and Pete's entire relationship can truly be summed up by how they share food, what they're doing at the moment and how abuse can shape a person's view and handling of food.

And then I start thinking about how those relationships with food are shaped and formed within the show and, more importantly, how they shape our understanding of the characters and their relationships and their jobs as well.

The biggest point here is that both the main and minor families exhibit control over their bodyguards and lovers through the use of food but also in how they exert that control and it's a diametric opposite of each other.

When we're first introduced to the bodyguards of the main family and food, the food is treated as fuel and nothing more. It is formulated for heath and sustenance, not for taste or enjoyment. This is not a time for bonding, this is not a perk of a their job, it's a requirement of their job to eat. In fact, the first way Pete bonds with Porsche is over the idea of the food his grandmother sends him that he enjoys rather than the food he eats.

And when he first meet the minor family bodyguards and food, it's sharing at a large table of food that is designed to appeal to them. Food here is a perk, food brings them together, food provides them with a link both to each other and to the leaders of the minor family who eat with them. The bonding there is the offer of food, their own food, not outside food.

Here is the crux of the different of how they control their men... the main family controls by having power over them and the minor family controls through emotional and manipulative means to gain the same results and you see this in how the two groups work, interact and also fall in love.

The main family bodyguards are distinctly uncomfortable eating around the members of the main family (or the minor family, for that matter) because they are taught the work and food are separate. You do not eat or drink when you are working and so you do not eat or drink at the same table as the main family because their control lies in the power over the bodyguards rather than a bond with them. This is why Porsche makes such a huge mistake accepting that water at the event. That is not how the main family works and thus he must be punished for his transgression to re-exert that specific form of control.

(This also plays into how every time we see Kinn and Porsche eating together, it's outside of the work and outside of anything involving the mafia and is, basically, a different show.)

But the minor family? They eat together. They're working in the bar eating. Gun eats with them, Macau eats with them, Vegas eats with them. They sit together, intermixed. The control that the minor family exerts is in building a rapport with their guards, creating a feeling that they are part of a bigger whole, that they care about them. It's entirely about the emotional manipulation and the idea of being a family extending to the guards as well and bringing a very different kind of loyalty and a very different kind of person.

(This, obviously, plays into the way Vegas treats food and treats Pete with food, especially the first few times they meet when he sits down to eat with them, gives Pete the snack and even throws slop in front of him. Vegas is very used to food as a manipulation tool.)

The core of this is the idea of how they've each achieved power but also what they value in who works for them and what they want from them.

The main family wants bodyguards who are proper in formal environments and have a certain air to them, a certain knowledge, and a certain separation from the main family. They don't actually care about loyalty (they might pay it lipservice but that's truly all it is, just the idea) and it's why guards are cast aside without a second thought and why they so rarely seem to care. Because bodyguards, just like food, are just tools in their lives.

The minor family wants bodyguards and bouncers who can do dirty work, who will carry out jobs on their own, who are much more like loyal independent contractors at times because they need to function in a different capacity than the main family. And the best way to do that? Provide not just what they need but what they want. That's how you earn their loyalty. But they're also lying to their faces the same way the main family. The loyalty they want and need is bought with food and false family and faked camaraderie. But they do want and need loyalty.

Power Through Control versus Power Through Manipulation.

[bluedudewithatude]

bluedudewithatude - Ten Years Later. [ooc]

Boy. Time sure flies, huh?

Yep. That's the very first post on this blog, exactly ten years ago.

Wow.

If you would have told me when I made this blog that I'd be posting on it ten years later, I wouldn't have believed you. But. Here we are. On a blog I made on a whim, celebrating how it's now ten years old. Just... wow.

... Okay. I'll come clean. Maybe I don't have the right to make this post with how I've been absent in the last few years, but Sonic Generations is why I made this blog, and the timestamp there says this blog is ten years old, so. I'm counting it.

Besides. I wanted to come on here, and... update you all. Talk to you. Let you know how I'm doing, and let you know something important.

... It's about time BlueDude came to an official end.

I know, I know. Why not just leave the blog in silence? Why not just... let it stay inactive? Why make this post at all, if all I'm doing is saying goodbye? Well, that's the thing. This blog means enough to me to give it an end.

This blog's seen a lot in my life. I've moved a lot, made lifelong friends, parted ways with friends I've thought I'd have in my life forever, gotten engaged to the love of my life, realized who I am (Trans rights!) and achieved my biggest dream as a Sonic fan and went to the Sonic 25th Anniversary Party. It's even helped me reconnect with some old family, believe it or not! And all of you were here for that.

That's why.

This blog was just a hobby, something I started on a whim, but it became not just a part of my life, but part of me. Running this blog meant so much to me. I had fun with it, but it also became an obligation. Even as I've not been around these last few years, every so often I'd think "I haven't been on BlueDude. I should hop on, make a post, reply to some asks and dust it off," but never gotten around to it due to other obligations. I also know thinking that as often, and frequently, as I have, isn't healthy. What is healthy, though, is moving on, as hard as it is to do.

Leaving BlueDude quietly wouldn't feel right, after everything the blog's been through. What's happened with it and what it's meant to me and all of you. I've kept this a secret for a long time, but BlueDude reached over 1,000 followers like... within the first two years. Which is... amazing! Incredibly impressive! And now it's... sitting at 4,000+? Like. Wow. So, how many of you are bots?

When I made this blog back when I was 17, I was scared that I'd never play Sonic as well as he deserved. Sonic was, and still is, my hero. I didn't think I could play him well at the time, nor did I ever think that I would... apparently do it so well, that all of you welcomed him and treated him like the real deal. I've always been honored, flattered, and humbled by it. I hope the advice Sonic's given you all these years has helped you and made you smile when you needed it.

I went from being unsure I could write my favorite blue hedgehog to enter Sonic fandom spaces and RP spaces to say "I run BlueDudeWithATude" to be recognized, and that... honestly just. Wow. I would have never expected that.

To all of you who have stuck by me despite my inactivity, and other things, thank you so much.

Now... I say this is the end, but it's not entirely. I'm not vanishing off of the internet or anything. In fact, I've got great news to share! Yours truly now works as a gaming journalist! I honestly can't believe I get to say that! I won't say what site I work for -- not really in the mood to doxx myself today, thank you -- but I might share it with those I trust privately. Either way, BlueDude might go without posts, but someday you might read an article about the latest Sonic game, see the name "Zack" attached, and smile fondly remembering me and what I've written on here. That would make me very happy. <3

And, truthfully, this is just a more formal goodbye in case I leave this blog to be silent again. I really wanted to give BlueDude a proper send-off, proper credits roll and results screen, so I had to reset passwords and get into some old emails just to make this post. So I may stick around to answer a few lingering asks and try and make some kind of dent in his ask box after it's piled up for years. We'll see.

Either way, I wanted to let you know what's happening, what I'm doing, and where I'm going next. Even if this blog doesn't get posts anymore, it'll still be part of my life, and I hope you'll remember my blog fondly.

I never expected this when I made this blog without any planning, and while thinking I'd never do Sonic justice. Just the fact that I could make fellow Sonic fans smile, laugh, and help them out in only the ways Sonic could, makes me feel very fulfilled.

From one Sonic fan to another, and from the Sonic you all welcomed and loved of the last ten years...

Thank you. Thank you so much for absolutely everything. <3

Catch ya later!

- Zackari, AKA, BlueDudeWithATude

[archived-kin]

some ramblings about luke as a playable genshin character

thanks to this anon right here i couldn’t stop thinking about this so HERE, take obey me luke as genshin barbara's brother 

(i’m not formatting this like a formal writing post but it is a bit lengthy so i've put it under the cut)

luke would probably be a deacon in the favonius church just like his sister

i see them as twins so they’d probably be the most sympathetic to the traveller’s situation - they can’t imagine how it would feel if they’d lost each other like that

now at least someone other than amber is actually trying to help you find your lost sibling lmao

anyway! luke could definitely work as another hydro user, but personally i think it’d be brilliant to have him be a cryo catalyst user with a defence-oriented moveset

(this also has the added bonus of finally giving us a male catalyst user)

like!!! his elemental skill would create a cryo shield around him that applies the cryo effect to any enemies that get within a certain distance and causes ongoing cryo damage the longer they stay close (it wouldn’t be a lot of damage since i don’t want to make him too op - maybe it’d do 10% of his attack in terms of damage at intervals of one second). the shield would last for about fifteen seconds, during which you can switch to barbara and freeze all the enemies around you as well!!

in homage to his original identity as an angel in obey me, i’d like to think his elemental burst would be growing a pair of cryo wings from his back that flap at intervals of 1.5 seconds for six seconds, applying the cryo effect and dealing a relatively large amount of damage to enemies with each flap. the wings would increase movement speed while in effect as well!!

partially because i see him as a five star with this moveset and partially to match with his sister, luke would definitely get an animation for his elemental burst. imagine how pretty it would look!!

if luke got a banner, barbara would definitely also be on it, along with maybe razor and bennett?

genshin doesn’t really have this function but imagine that putting two characters with a close relationship on the same team gives you bonus effects -  luke and barbara on the same team would definitely give you buffs!! for example:

both of their attack and elemental mastery automatically goes up by 10% if you put them on the same team

if barbara’s hp is below 50%, luke’s defence immediately goes up (the strength of his shield would be dependent on his defence stat), and his crit rate also increases

and if luke’s hp is below 50%, barbara’s healing effectiveness and crit rate immediately increase as well

if one of the siblings ‘falls’, as the game puts it, the surviving sibling’s attack and crit rate immediately goes up

man i really be out here creating whole game mechanics out of thin air haha

barbara and luke’s story quest would be a joint one!! since luke’s a five star (and it involves two characters), it would be one of those story quests that you need to obtain through keys

it would start out with you going to the fountain in mondstadt and speaking to the locals, who are talking about how weird it is that barbara and luke keep going around practically interrogating people when they usually tend to keep to themselves in the cathedral (apart from barbara’s performances, of course, which luke always attends in full support)

then you need to go around and ask a couple of the locals which way they went, after which you’ll meet barbara outside angel’s share talking to diluc 

it turns out that the page twins have been going around mondstadt as often as they can to look for leads on your lost sibling, as well as asking diluc for help looking for intel and putting up missing posters in further areas of the region 

so sweet ;.;

barbara then realises that she promised luke that they’d do some baking this morning and rushes off. once she’s out of earshot, diluc suggests that you should do something nice for the twins as a thank you for your help. 

depending on which dialogue option you choose, diluc will either unsubtly pressure you into doing it anyway (if you refuse) or offer a helpful suggestion as to what to do (if you agree). either way, you’ll end up needing to go to find barbara and luke in mondstadt somewhere.

you’ll find them just outside the city gates, and talking to them (as the quest tells you to) reveals that the siblings have run out of apples for the apple pie they want to make

paimon suggests that they just buy some, but because (for some reason) no one in mondstadt sells apples, they need to go out to pick them

on your way there, however, you encounter a group of hilichurls bullying a poor hunter from springvale, watched by a calculating abyss mage that immediately turns and flees when it sees you and the page twins watching it

your next task in the quest would be to defeat the hilichurls, after which you, barbara, and luke speak to the hunter who was being attacked. he explains that he walked in on the abyss mage explaining something to the hilichurls, and that he thinks it might be planning something.

your next task is to use elemental sight to track down the abyss mage, and the next bit that plays out is pretty much like all of the domain finales for story quests

this domain is where you get to trial barbara and luke together! there are a bunch of puzzles that require hydro and cryo elemental pillars to be activated, and the abyss mage you fight right at the end is a pyro one, so you get to experience their moveset and how well they work together to the fullest!

once the abyss mage is down, there’s one last part to the quest: picking apples, taking them back to mondstadt, baking an apple pie with the siblings, and then going around and helping them offer a piece to the locals of the city. the story quest ends with diluc treating all three of you to a hot meal at good hunter!

the rewards you receive at the end of the story quest would include a recipe from each sibling as well! the recipe barbara gives you would be a spicy meat and vegetable dish of some kind that regenerates hp, while the recipe luke gives you would be a sweet pastry that increases defence and shield strength. 

(cooking these two recipes with the respective characters that give you them may give you a special dish!)

it’d be a pretty light story quest compared to some of the other five star’s story quests (like venti’s, which made me cry more than i’d like to admit), but luke wouldn’t be a particularly tragic character, so i think it makes sense for it to be like this

annnd that’s all i’ve got for now! i’m aware that i’m writing for a very small group of people right now and that not many will see this but honestly this was more for myself than anyone else, haha

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (N.H.) A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love.

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

twenty-eight

As the elevator ticked past each floor of the Capitol Records building, Niall began to wonder if this would be the last time he would ever step foot in this or any place related to music.

He still remembered the first time he stepped foot in the iconic building- fresh off the One Direction hiatus and unsure what he would be as an artist. His dreams for his solo career just within reach. He was a different person back then. A person that was willing to do whatever it took to make it in the music world and to make a name for himself. A person who believed that Capitol Records was the key to paving a career that fit his dreams perfectly. A person who still believed that the music industry wasn't all bad.

But today was the end of that. He would no longer give up his own relationships, hopes and dreams just because of an image that his label wanted him to portray. He would no longer be letting someone else dictate his life; what he sang, what he wore, who he loved. No today, for perhaps the first time in his career, Niall was going to take charge of his own destiny.

A part of Niall was still scared that something could go wrong. He'd asked Kelsey ten times last night whether she was sure she wanted to go through with this, knowing what might happen if their plan didn't quite go off without a hitch.

Each time he'd asked her, she'd nodded and smiled and told him there's nothing she'd ever been more sure about. Niall knew saying those words was hard for her. He also knew that the smile on her face was constructed with just as much fear as Niall had right now.  But he couldn't be happier to finally be at the place where he and Kelsey could have the life together he'd always dreamed of. Free of contracts and fake girlfriends and manipulation.

Niall didn't wait for Alan Michaels's secretary to greet him when he stepped off the elevator, or for her to notify Mr. Michaels that he had a visitor. Instead he headed full speed towards the double-glass doors of the Capitol executive's office and pushed them open, saying in his strongest, gutsiest voice "We need to talk."

Alan Michaels turned from his computer, snapping his head around to look at Niall with surprise. "Mr. Horan did we have a meeting today?"

"We do now." Niall said forcefully, taking a seat in the chair in front of the desk. He tried to ignore the light shake of his hands as he folded them in his lap, instead taking delight in the fact that Alan Michaels had no idea what was coming for him.

"And what can I do for you today Mr. Horan?" Mr. Michaels asked in a long drawn-out voice, shuffling a stack of papers around on his desktop.  

"Whatever you did to make Kelsey Benton break up with me- I want it nullified," Niall doesn't flinch as he says the words, staring straight into Mr. Michaels dark brown eyes as if they aren't the most intimidating pair he's ever seen.

Niall swears it takes five minutes before words leave Mr. Michaels mouth again, his heartbeat rapid in his ear.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Michaels said his face astonished. "I'm sorry Mr. Horan, I have no idea what you are talking about. Have you been in contact with Miss Benton?"

"Not at all." Niall said, his lips staying in a straight line. "And I've begun to realize that perhaps there is a reason why." Niall wondered if this small fib would be enough to convince Alan Michaels that Kelsey hadn't breeched the conditions of her contract, but even if Michaels suspected he did, there was no proof.

"I can assure you Mr. Horan, what Miss Benton chooses to do in her relationship is entirely under her control. Perhaps she simply decided you weren't the one for her," the lies slipped out of Mr. Michaels mouth with ease, and Niall can see why he has this job. He's good at it. The lying, the manipulating, the convincing. Niall wondered how many other artists have sat in this very spot and been convinced that the label was doing everything in their best interest. How many hearts had been broken, families changed, careers altered all under the power of Alan Michaels and his smug smile. That wouldn't be the case today.

Niall had not expected this to be a simple meeting. He knew Alan Michaels wouldn't admit to meddling in his relationship willingly, so Niall had come prepared with his own pretty little piece of blackmail.

"Let me make myself clear- ALAN," Niall's voice was strong. "I happen to know several journalists who are just a phone call away from releasing an interview with me about my fake relationship with Krystal. I'm sure it would be the talk of LA in a matter of minutes."

Niall watched as Mr. Michaels throat bobbed in a firm swallow, he had his attention now.

"You are under a contract Mr. Horan. These promotional tactics are not to be disclosed to the public."

"And if I chose to tell my fans the truth? That you've hired someone to be my girlfriend over the past year. That the dates, the music video, the "love" was entirely something of your own creation in order to help increase your record sales. That I was forced into this against my will? What would you do then?"

"Well we would have to terminate your contract with Capitol Records. You would no longer be one of our recording artists." The look on Alan Michaels face told Niall that he thought he had given the ultimate threat, but little did Alan Michaels know, that threat was exactly what Niall wanted him to say.

"I bet you'd hate to see that happen wouldn't you? I mean a number one album in 42 countries, a sold-out world tour, some of the most dedicated fans in the universe. There's a lot more where that came from," Niall was taunting him now, and the more Mr. Michaels smug grin transformed into a frown, the more fun Niall was having. He was getting to Alan Michaels, he could tell.

"We would hate to see one of Capitol's best artists leave the label, that's for certain," Mr. Michaels said, his voice now laced with nervousness instead of intimidation.

"So you see the dilemma here? Looks like you are going to have to choose between terminating whatever kind of threat you made with Miss Benton to ensure she didn't ruin your promotional plans or terminating your relationship with one of your most successful artists. I mean if it was me, Alan, I don't think I'd think twice about it. What's the girl to you?" Niall crossed his legs in the chair, staring Mr. Michaels with a soft grin on his face.

Mr. Michaels kept his hand folded. He didn't say anything, Niall thought he was considering it. He didn't even think he'd get this far. He assumed that Alan Michaels would be invincible to manipulation. But today was proof that if you play the right cards, the right threat can convince anyone to change their stance.

Alan Michaels took a deep breath. "Kelsey Benton's contract will be nullified."

"Now," Niall added firmly. He couldn't risk this not going through. Not with what he was about to do next. "You'll let her know now."

Mr. Michaels nodded, picking up his phone. "Samantha, can you get Kelsey Benton on the line for me please?" He hung up, looking Niall in the eyes. The two stare at each other, neither speaking. Until the phone rings again. Niall can only assume its Kelsey on the other line.

"Is this Miss Benton?" Mr. Michaels asked. Niall can't hear Kelsey on the other line, but he pictures her sitting on Niall's couch, still in her pajamas, smiling at the sound of Alan Michaels voice. The thought made a small smile break through Niall's otherwise serious expression.

"This is Alan Michaels with Capitol Records. We've decided to terminate the contract we've signed with you. All I need is your official signature and it's gone forever."

Mr. Michaels hung up the phone, turning to look at Niall expectantly, as if to say 'Happy now'.

"So that's official?" Niall asked, cautious to make any more moves before the pieces were set in place.

"Official as of my signature right now. Miss Benton's signature is mainly a formality. It's as if our agreement never existed."

"Good." Niall nodded, inhaling deeply before saying his next words. "Well now that that's taken care of. I'd like to notify you that I'm officially terminating my contract with Capitol Records."

"But..." Mr. Michaels protested.

"My lawyers have assured me that there is nothing in our current agreement limiting me from telling anyone about what went on here once our contract has been terminated. I'd get your PR team ready, Alan. My fans don't take too lightly to people messing with my life." He stood up, pulling down his charcoal suit jacket and reaching out a hand to shake. "Best of luck with everything."

"But Mr. Horan..." Mr. Michaels seemed to be at a loss for words. "We can work something out, we can come up with a new agreement. I promise you we will not hire anyone for your PR again..." Alan Michaels was stumbling through his words now, but Niall just smiled and made his way towards the office doors.

He walked past Mr. Michaels secretary, who has now stood up, looking towards the office and the still rambling Alan Michaels standing in his office doorway.

"You're going to regret this Mr. Horan!" Mr. Michaels yelled at him as Niall called the elevator.

As the elevator doors dinged open, Niall turned around, facing Alan Michaels one more time. "No Alan, I don't think I will." And with that he stepped inside the elevator, letting the doors close, literally and figuratively, on his time as a Capitol Records recording artist.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou​ , @niall-is-my-dream ,​  @stylishmuser​​​ , @thicksniall

[thereluctantinquisitor]

Hey Reluctant you remember that tragic fic you wrote about Dorian leaving Varlen bc he refused to stay behind while Dorian went to Tevinter? since I've been thinking about it again and it's re-broken my heart, could you pretty please maybe do a short sequel where Varlen follows Dorian to Tevinter anyway and keeps him safe from the shadows, something with a happy ending? Bc I'm dying still thinking about my boys sad and lonely even if the fic isnt technically canon its still breaking my heart ;~;

PHEW. Sorry about this taking SO LONG to actually get to, but it ended up much longer than I anticipated. Because of that, I have uploaded it to AO3 in chapters for ease of reading (LINK HERE), but will also put it here for people who don’t mind… y’know… a lot of scrolling >.>

Also HERE is the break-up fic in question, in case people are interested

Things Thought Lost (Pavellan, Post-Trespasser)

Varlen Lavellan x Dorian Pavus, approx 8500 words. CW: violence, attempted assassination.

“Magister Pavus?”

Dorian groaned softly, the fingers of hisleft hand rubbing a tired circle against his temple. “Yes, yes. What is it?”

The scribe entered; a mouse of a thing calledAdiran. New to the household, he bobbed his head deferentially, and with theMaker as his witness, Dorian swore the young man’s knees were trembling.“T-There has been a change of venue for your meeting with Magister Tellene.Instead of the upper chambers, she has requested you meet her at the,u-um…“ He paused, glancing hurriedly at his board, which quivered andjumped in the air. “The Gilder.”

One dark brow arched high on Dorian’sforehead. “Harbour-side? An interesting choice for a lady with such a notabledislike of salt air.” The young man opened his mouth as if to beg apology, butDorian quickly waved a hand. “No matter, no matter. Thank you, Adiran. Informher that I will be present at the agreed upon time.” Typically, Dorian wouldmake a show of rescheduling entirely, as was common practice within theImperium when one wanted to assert one’s status over another. Or be a little petty. However,if he was to ever bring forth discussion of the treatment of slaves in themagisterium, he needed Tellene on side. She was old blood – something that carriedgreat weight in a nation stained red. Her support would be invaluable. Despitehis better judgement, he had little choice but to attend whatever she deignedto organise. If he did not establish an alliance now, someone else wouldinevitably beat him to it. It was not something he could afford.

Sighing softly, he pushed himself to hisfeet, chair sliding out behind him along the soft carpet. Moving to thefloor-length mirror, Dorian took a moment to adjust his attire, tugging hisrobe slightly, reasserting the perfectly effortless flow required of his cloak.He would not be wearing his insignia of office this time. Not if he was toventure so far from the heart of the Magisterium. It would be interesting, hesupposed. He had yet to visit the harbour since his magnificent return toTevinter. It held a rather significant number of fond memories.

All he hoped was that the meeting would gosmoothly, and those memories would not be replaced by something comparablydark.

The Gilder was decidedly… unremarkable. Nice,mind you, but most things in that part of the city could at the very least bedescribed as nice. Dorian exited his carriage with a nod to his driver, Valus, who wouldwait for however long the meeting took. Adiran hurried out behind him, carryinga stack of papers and ink to transcribe should the casual conversation take amore formal turn. It might not be needed, but Dorian always found it better tobe prepared, and the young man seemed as though he would benefit from theexcursion.

“Try to calm down,” he said to Adiran as they approached the establishment. “I brought you here as a member of myhousehold staff. Do try to look the part, yes?”

“Y-Yes, Magister Pavus.” Adiran swallowedtightly, sweat beading on his brow. “I’ll… I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

Dorian’s expression softened slightly as theyascended the steps to the entrance. “There. That’s the spirit. Just stay withme and look interested in what’s happening.” He paused as Adiran hurriedforward to get the door, then as he passed, he fixed the scribe with a sidelongglance. “But not too interested.”

The young man paled again. It was a bit cruelto tease him, but Dorian couldn’t help himself. It was the sort of thing thatwould have earned a soft snort of amusement from his companions back inFerelden. A touch of the arm. A bright smile. Silver hair swept over oneshoulder, blue eyes gleaming with barely contained laughter…

Dorian caught himself mid-thought, startledthat his mind had wandered so far from its course. No. Now is not the time for such…distraction. He needed tobe focused. This meeting could make or break half a year’s worth of work. Ifhis thoughts were elsewhere, it could lead to disaster. He had to deny them, nomatter how desperately they wished to elope.

“The meeting is upstairs, Magister Pavus.”Adiran, who had been swift to hurry over to a richly attired man with a ledger,returned just as quickly, his brown hair tousled, green eyes bright withnervous energy. “Shall I lead the way and ah… introduce you? Is that, um… howthis goes?”

“Yes. If you please.” Dorian’s response wasclipped, his mind still distant as he followed the young man. Why think ofVarlen? Why now? Was it because there was so much at stake? Was it because he wasfeeling so very out of his depth?

Or was it because, if he were to be perfectlyhonest, he would give anything in the world for Varlen to be the one currently standing by hisside.

You are the one who set thatship to sail, you know, Dorianchided himself silently as he followed Adiran up two flights of carpeted stairsto the room. Thenyou launched a fireball and burned it to ash for good measure. You have no one toblame but yourself. He is not coming back.

It was a bitter thing, to consider how muchhe had already been forced to give up to become Magister Pavus. Maker’s breath,he had yet to decide if it had even been worth it. Perhaps, if he could doenough good here, he might be able to make it safe. Yes… yes, if he could dothat, Varlen might just…

Dorian’s thought was cut short as Adiranknocked meekly on the door of one of the rooms. Good grief, even his knock wasmouse-like. Dorian would have to work on that with him; give the young man abit more presence. It would do him no good to come across as so fragile. People arewant to take advantage of such individuals, particularly in the Imperium.

There was a soft affirmation from beyond thedoor, and Adiran took a steadying breath, steeling himself. He glanced back atDorian, who gave him an encouraging nod despite feeling almost sick with nerveshimself. But to offer support was only fair; Dorian had been the one to insiston Adiran’s involvement, after all. It was the least he could do. To Dorian’ssurprise, the young man actually mustered a flicker of a smile, standing alittle taller before turning the gold-coated handle and pushing open the door.It swung on perfectly oiled hinges, revealing the lamp-lit room beyond. Chin raised,knees still shaking slightly, Adiran stepped in ahead of Dorian, as wasprotocol. When he spoke, his voice rang out with unexpected clarity.

“Magister Tellene and valued associates, itis my honour to present the esteemed Magister Pavus, son of the late HalwardPavus, member o—”

It had been difficult for Dorian to keep aproud smile off his face at Adiran’s confident tone, but he had managed upuntil the young man suddenly cut off, his introduction coming to a jarring haltmidway through. Dorian frowned, brow creasing in mingled disappointment andconcern as he stepped forward to usher Adiran aside, assuming the scribe’snerves had simply overcome him. No matter. There would be other opportunitiesfor him to practice. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder comfortingly butfirmly. “That is enough with the formalities for n…” Dorian halted the momenthe stepped up to Adiran’s side. He caught the young man’s expression. Adiran’sgreen eyes, once bright with nerves, were blown wide, staring down in shock.His head was barely tilted, frozen in place, colour draining fast from histanned skin. Bitter dread clawed up the back of Dorian’s throat, and almostreluctantly, he let his own gaze descend.

A hilt, adorned with delicate gold weave,jutted from the centre of Adiran’s stomach.

“Fasta-vass!” Doriansprang into action, his time spent fighting with the Inquisition far fromforgotten. Magic leaped to his fingertips in less than a frantic heartbeat, butfor once the destructive fire of his youth was not the first thing to rise tothe occasion. Instead, a barrier rippled around Dorian and the young man,wrapping them in a familiar hum of energy, and it was just in time as anotherdagger streaked towards them only to be turned aside by the magical shield. Ahigh, panicked whine crawled up the back of Adiran’s throat as blood began toseep around his fingers, wrapped almost protectively around the hilt of theblade. Dorian drew the young man close, hooking him around the waist to keephim on his feet. “Stay with me.” He clenched his teeth as he fought to maintaintheir defences as another projectile – one far less mundane – was repelled. “Do not pullthat out, do you understand? Stay with me.”

There were four figures in the room and nosign whatsoever of Magister Tellene, save the fact that she was likely behindthe foul play. Just four assassins against one mage and a young man whose skinhad already drained of colour as he entered the first stages of shock. This wasbeyond bad. In fact, as Dorian attempted to back towards the door, eyesflicking between his assailants, he could think of few more potentially deadlysituations in which to find himself. Foolish. He shouldhave been more careful. Should not have rushed in so eagerly. His instincts hadwarned him, and he had ignored every last one of them.

Dorian’s father once said that a man’s worthcould be measured by his ambition. Dorian himself always fancied ambition to beworth remarkably little if, in its realisation, one fell to the folly of haste.

Just this once, he wished he had taken hisown damn advice.

Sweat beading on his brow, running down histemples, Dorian backed all the way to the door only to find it had somehow beenclosed behind him, the act going unnoticed in his rush to protect his scribe.He snarled; a surprisingly vicious sound; as an assassin started forward,intending to rush the barrier. Dorian snapped his hand to the side, three boltsof fire shooting from his palm to catch the cowled man mid-flight. The assassincried out, staggering, throwing his arms up to guard his face, but his clothingremained uncharred by the flames. In fact, the fire seemed to sweep pastharmlessly, repelled like water from oiled canvas. Of course.Yes, he should have guessed they would be ready for combat with a mage of hisparticular specialty. These were no mere hired blades, after all.

“Kaffas,” Doriangrowled, face set in a snarl as he chose lightning, charging a bolt in his palmand sending it lancing forward. It hit one assassin, then leaped to a second,but again the effect seemed almost laughable. They slowed under the assault,only human and unnerved by the display, but did not stop. For all his power,Dorian was little more than an inconvenience to them.By his side, Adiran’s breathing had started to come in short, panicked gasps;too little to fill the boy’s lungs. They didn’t have much time. He didn’thave much time. Turning, Dorian threw a hand towards the door, summoning magicto his palm and sending it scorching outwards in a bright, loud blast. If hecould get them out and summon the city guards, then perhaps—

The sound of shattering glass ripped Dorian’sattention back to the room even as the door buckled and blasted outwards. Theassassins standing by the window cried out in surprise, stepping away hastilyas a figure swung into the room. A blur of black and brown, the person hit theground, rolled, and was on their feet in less time than it took to bat an eye,twin blades flashing in their hands. For a moment, Dorian thought this might beanother assailant, come to ensure the job was done thoroughly. But before thatthought even reached completion, the stranger whirled on the assassins,slashing fast, feinting and dodging and weaving, harrying and harassing them inclose quarters. It seemed the stranger’s arrival was as much as surprise tothem as it had been to Dorian, and they scrambled to defend themselves,momentarily distracted from their quarry.

In the confusion, Dorian did the only thinghe could. Grunting, he hauled Adiran up and made for the door, almost trippingover the debris, staggering out into the hallway. The boy’s blood ran freelydown his front, now, staining the carpet red as they stumbled and wovechaotically. After a few hindered steps, Dorian opted to simply sweep the boyinto his arms, ignoring the shriek of pain Adiran let out at the movement. Thesound stole the breath from Dorian’s chest in the worst possible way and hegritted his teeth, trying not to give in to the rising panic. The guilt. Adiranshook in his arms, tense with pain, eyes glassy and wide as he stared down athis wound.

He’s just a boy. I shouldn’thave brought him. I shouldn’t have—

Dorian reached the stairs just as a form camehurtling out of the room’s shattered doorway, skidding into the hall, a horrorof black fabric and deadly blade. Assassin. Cursing,Dorian threw up another barrier, but before he could attempt to flee the mancrashed into him, sending both Dorian and Adiran to the ground. They hit hard,and Dorian rolled on instinct just as the assassin’s wicked blade slammed intothe ground where his neck had been. Whatever it was made of, it sliced straightthrough the floorboards as though they were paper. With little left to hisdisposal, Dorian kicked out, catching the assassin in the side, knocking himtowards the stairs. Unfortunately, the cloaked man managed to catch himself onthe first step, avoiding the damaging fall that might have followed, andimmediately launched himself back towards Dorian, who had barely had time tostagger to his feet.

Whether through skill or sheer luck, Dorianmanaged to catch the assassin’s wrists, that deadly blade stopping mere inchesfrom his chest. Both men grunted, snarling, one’s face hidden by a mask, the other’sexposed and desperate. Despairing. Livid. Adiran layin a crumpled heap, curled in on himself as if to guard the blade sheathed inhis stomach. He’sjust a boy. Dorian cried out, heavingback against the assassin, forcing the man back a half-step from the suddenforce of it. Justa boy. His grip tightened on theassassin’s wrists, clamping down hard, the fitted fabric of the man’s sleeveslipping down as they struggled for dominance. I should not have brought him. 

For a split second, Dorian felt warmth against his palms –skin – and quite literally seized the opportunity with both hands. Ignoring thethreat of that deadly blade, Dorian focused his magic, dropping his barrier anddrawing its power into his attack, feeling the energy coil and writhe inside him. Then,just when he could contain it no longer, he released it in a rush, theelectricity discharging with a muted crack directly into the assassin’s exposedskin. The man screamed, arching, grip tightening on his blade, neck snappingback, body shaking. Dorian refused to let go, his eyes on the assassin, hisheart on Adiran, his mind chanting a desperate mantra for it to all be over.The smell of something cooking, and then burning, rose thick in the air, untilthe assassin finally collapsed in a smoking heap on the floor. Without eventhinking, Dorian snatched the man’s blade and slipped it into his belt, themimmediately staggered over the corpse and towards the crumpled form of hisscribe.

“Adiran,” he rasped, exhausted, shaking as heturned the boy, rolling him onto his back. Dorian was greeted by the faintestof moans, but it set his exhausted heart racing again, newfound energy risingto flood his veins. “Come – that’s it. We’re fine. You will be fine.” Hegrunted, heaving the boy up again. Adiran did not cry out this time. In fact,he seemed barely aware of who Dorian was or what was happening, head lolling,eyes unfocused and half shut. Bitterly, Dorian could only think that was alllikely for the best.

Dorian did not exit via the front of theestablishment. The back door was closer, and his chariot was waiting down theside of the building. As soon as Dorian stumbled into sight, Valus,leaped to his feet, eyes blown wide with shock. “Get the door open,” Dorianordered as he ran towards it. “Now! Take us to Maevaris.” She had a spirithealer on staff – one who might be able to help. That was the boy’s onlychance, Dorian feared, and even then it was slim. As he and Valus heaved theyoung man into the carriage, Dorian eyed the wound and felt a sick sensationchurn in his stomach. Itwas bad. Any seasoned fighter wouldsay the same. A slow, painful way to go.

Once inside the wagon, Valus immediately setthe horses off at a canter, moving recklessly through the streets, hollering tomove people out of the carriage’s way. Inside, Dorian cradled Adiran’s head inhis lap, smoothing the boy’s hair, unable to find the words he deserved in sucha moment. His hand worked what little magic he had left, trying to numb thearea – ease the pain. Whatcould one truly say? 

“M… Magis…ter…” Adiran’s voice was barelyabove a whisper, and Dorian started, almost missing it for all Valus’ shoutingand rein-cracking.

“Shh, hush now,” Dorian murmured almostreflexively, reaching to wrap a hand comfortingly around the young man’s wrist.Holding him. What else could he do? “Save your breath. We are almost at thehealer.”

Adiran swallowed, flinched, then gasped atthe contraction, his hands twitching painfully around the embedded blade.“A-Are y… s-safe?”

The expression on Dorian’s face would havebeen comical had it not been lined so heavily by grief. “Foolish boy,” hechoked, shaking his head, fingers still combing soothingly through his tousledbrown hair that seemed immune to any form of taming. Sucking in a shakingbreath, Dorian pressed on, “I am fine, Adiran. Unharmed. You did well. You… didvery well.”

Had the young man been more present, he mighthave disputed that claim, given the circumstances. But instead his feverishgaze seemed to brighten ever so slightly as it drifted upwards, focusing on thejolting roof of the carriage. Their green was dimmer than before; wilting fastlike cut grass. All Dorian could do was helplessly beg the carriage to gofaster.

Maevaris, as always,moved with the efficiency of a woman whose world always ran on perfectschedule. The moment Dorian’s carriage pulled up, she appeared as thoughsummoned, whether warned by her own guards or Valus’ booming voice, Doriancould not say. Either way, it did not matter; the moment she saw Adiran shelaunched into action, sending a servant to fetch the healer before slidingbeneath Adiran’s other arm herself and helping Dorian carry the boy along.“Maker’s breath, what happened to him?” she demanded as they ran into themanor, a cot already being wheeled down the hallway from one of the nearbyrooms. “And if you are going to stop by unannounced, flowers never go astray.”

“Not now,” Dorian begged, andMaevaris seemed more than happy to oblige him in this instance. While boththeir instincts in the gravest moments were to make light, this time… this timeDorian just couldn’t bear it. What happened next was something of a blur, andthe next thing Dorian knew, the boy had been whisked away by not just onehealer, but a group, all speaking in fast, serious tones. The only thing thatstopped Dorian from following them instinctively was Maevaris’ steadying handon his shoulder. He turned to her, aggrieved, but she just shook her head, gazesympathetic but firm.

“Let them work, Dorian. There isnothing either of us can do for him now.” Her pale gaze drifted to where theyhad disappeared down the corridor, voices fading in the distance. “I do notknow who that boy was, but he is in good hands. The best, if Jahvri’srecommendations are to be believed.”

“One can only hope. Maker’sbreath…” Dorian sagged, andMaevaris quickly guided him over to a chair, steadying him by the arms as hecollapsed into it. “How?” he continued, shaking his head, curving forward andburying his face in his hands. “How did I let this happen?”

“Hush.” She pulled him in close,letting Dorian’s head rest against her stomach, holding him without a care forthe blood, both fresh and dried, that coated the front of his robe. “You will tell me what happened, Dorian… but not now. Youare safe here. That is what matters. Stay as long as you feel you must.”

“You are too good to me.”

“I am. But Maker knows you woulddo the same.”

To his credit, Dorian managed afaint smile at that. It was true, after all. But it wavered and fell all tooquickly. Maevaris, perceptive as ever, gave the excuse of fetching tea for themto drink. As if she did not have staff for such an endeavour. But regardless,she made herself scarce, offering Dorian a moment’s reprieve, and he wasgrateful for the solitude. Suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion,Dorian raised his hands to rub at his eyes, then jolted as thesight of his own bloodstained palms sent a spike of panic through him. Yes. Yes,of course. As if reading hismind, a servant appeared with a warm, damp cloth, offering it to him for thetime being and informing him a bath was being drawn and would be ready shortly.Maevaris was nothing if not a gracious host.

Sitting there, Dorian’s mindwandered back to that room at The Gilder. To the figure who had leapt in; asaviour of dark leather and flashing steel. Whoever that person had been,Dorian wagered he owed them his life. Perhaps even Adiran’s, if…

Dorian blanched and leanedforward heavily, resting his forearms on his knees, uncaring of how he mightlook to the guards flooding out to take up extra watch duties in the wake ofhis dramatic arrival. What he had done; attending that meeting; had been amistake he could not afford to make. Not now. Certainly not again. A singleerror of judgement could mean the end of everything. Of himself. Of others. He was more than just a lone agent – a pariah actingout against an established ideal. Finally, he was in a position where his voicecould be heard above the powerful ruling minority. If he allowed himself to besilenced through his own recklessness…

There was a sound from outside;men and woman shouting what sounded like a warning. Dorian launched to hisfeet, exhausted but rekindled by the thought that the assassins had givenchase. The idea that he might have brought danger to Maevaris’ house left himsick and hollow inside, but as he attempted to rush out a pair of guardsmenstepped in front of the door, blocking his path. “Apologies, Magister Pavus,”one said, “but we are under strict orders.”

Of course they were. Dorian’slips curled disdainfully, but quickly his rational side caught up, windingtight around his anger and stemming its flow. He was drained. Exhausted andbroken in too many ways. If he rushed out there, he would only be a liability.

A horn sounded – a few staccatobursts – and Dorian’s gaze flicked between the guards with an appropriate levelof indignation for his station. “At least tell me what is happening,” he said,seeking compromise. “I trust you can do that much, yes?”

After sharing a nervous glance,the other guard spoke, her voice ringing within her helm. “An attempted breachof the estate’s wall, Magister Pavus. That last call was to say whoever madethe attempt has been apprehended. They—”

Suddenly, the door behind theguards was thrown open, sending the pair staggering to the side and Dorianjumping back a step. Another group of Maevaris’ soldiers stormed in, a figuredragged between them, gripped tightly by the upper arms, surrounded by thethreat of blades. Dorian’s heart raced, but it seemed their captive was notputting up much of a fight; an occasional grunt and jerk of resistance when aguard got a little too rough or a blade slipped a little too close, but nothingmore. It was… well, rather strange. The group started moving past Dorian, their captive twisting,brown and black leather stained by blood…

… that was when Dorian recognisedwho it was.

“Wait! Stop!” Starting forward,Dorian placed himself between the guards and the hallway, cutting them off. Thegroup immediately halted. They might be under Maevaris’ employ, but they werenot so bold as to trample a Magister. Breathing harder than he had any need tobe, Dorian held out a hand. It was trembling. “Wait. I know that armour. Thisperson saved my life.”

There was a hush of uneasytension that filled the room. “Apologies, Magister, but we are under strictorders—” one of the guards began, but then the captive spoke over the top ofhim.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was deep.Earnest. Achingly familiar. Somethingtightened in Dorian’s chest, his eyes widening at the sound. No. Itcouldn’t be. “Itried to keep them all in the room, but one slipped past, and I’m…” The figureshivered and hung his head, still cowled and masked. Only his eyes werevisible, and Dorian caught a glimpse of them for the briefest moment. A bright,brilliant blue. “You got away.” The man continued weakly, almost to himself.Almost relieved. “Fora second I thought…”

“Release him,” Dorian breathed,stepping forward. But the guards did not comply, and his angerrose swiftly from the centre of his chest. “Did you not hear me? I said—”

“It is all right.” Maevaris’voice rang clear and crisp through the room. She had entered with a servantbearing a tray of tea, and while she seemed wary, her ability to read Dorianlike an open book spurred her to act. She met Dorian’s grateful gaze and noddedto the guards. “Let him go.”

Immediately, the guards releasedthe cowled man, who grunted and rubbed his arms where he had been held. Then,slowly, he straightened, his gaze rising to meet Dorian’s. They held eachother’s stares for a time, neither entirely sure of what to say. What to do. Dorian’s mind was little more than a whitewash ofemotion, fuzzy and uncertain, relieved and terrified all at once.

What was he doing here? How did he…?

“If you’re going to shout at me,can we at least do it without an audience?” Varlen’s voice was the same asDorian remembered, but somehow different as well. Harder. Colder.

“I’m not…” Dorian trailed off,then licked his lips, glancing about the room full of armed men and women.“Maevaris, if you please… I would have a moment with this man. Alone.” Underher intense stare, Dorian gave her a pointed nod. “All is quite well. You havemy word. Is there somewhere we might speak? Preferably a room without yourdutiful guards present.”

“Dorian,” Maevaris said warningly, but at the look on hisface she just sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead with her fingertips.“Very well. Fine. This way.” She spared a glance for the newcomer. Or perhapsa glare wouldbe more fitting. “Attempt anything at all and I will have you skinned and wear you like acoat. Understood?”

Dorian imagined Varlen would havepaled beneath that mask, but his voice remained surprisingly resolute as hegave a small bow of his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yes ma’am. Ittook all Dorian had to suppress a cringe as Maevaris arched a brow at theimpropriety of it all. But he supposed, if nothing else, it was strangelycomforting to know that some things had not changed.

When the door closed behind them,the first thing Dorian did close the space between himself and the cowledfigure. His hands reached out, thumbs brushing along the sides of Varlen’s coveredface, both pleased and surprised to find his former lover did not jerk awayfrom his touch.

So, Dorian removed the mask.

The elven man’s features wereprecisely how he remembered, although he supposed he shouldn’t really besurprised. It had only been just over a year, after all, since they had gonetheir separate ways for good. Discarding the mask, Dorian’s hands returned asthough drawn by a mysterious force, ghosting along the sides of Varlen’s face, wantingso badly to feel the warmth of his skin, but uncertain of whether such intimatecontact would be welcome. Instead, he allowed himself a moment of indulgence,drinking in the sight that stood before him. Those bright blue eyes, that palevallaslin. Cheekbones that gave such pleasing shape to his face; lines Dorian hadonce loved to absently trace. They were more pronounced now, he realisedvaguely. Varlen had gotten thinner. Then again, Dorian figured they both hadneglected themselves in more ways than one. Nothing could drain a person quitelike constant, unwavering stress.

In Dorian’s distraction, it wasVarlen who was the first to speak. “Dorian… were you hurt?”

That question. Why did everyone always ask that first?Pain flickered behind Dorian’s eyes and he lowered his hands, stepping away,the image of Adiran shivering in his arms suddenly too vivid. Too overwhelming.“I am well, Varlen.” He paused, collected himself, then added. “And you? Icannot imagine your entry through the second-storey window was a comfortableexperience.”

A faint smirk flickered acrossVarlen’s lips and he shrugged, although a little stiffly. “It’s not so bad. Ifyou do it right.” With a sigh, he reached up, tugging down his hood, hairspilling from its confine to tumble down past his shoulders. Dorian’s eyeswidened at the sight. Still long, yes, but he wore it shorter than before. Thedemands of practicality. But more than anything, it was predominantly black.Dorian was stunned into silence for a good while, slowly taking in changes hethought he would never see. Varlen lovedhis hair, proud to wear the same silver as his mother and sister. Now, only afew inches of it had grown, catching the wavering lamplight, no doubt awaitingthe dyeing process. What followed the unveiling was an uneasy silence; one thatseemed better suited to a funeral procession than an untimely reunion of formerlovers. Then again, perhaps it was a perfect silence. After all, Dorian had noidea how to fill it.

Uncertainly, Varlen rose to theoccasion, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Dorian… I know this isn’twhat you wante—”

“No.” Dorian, it seemed, hadfound his voice. Funny, how easy it was to make the throw once the first stonehad been cast. Varlen blinked, uncertain of what to make of single word, butDorian just shook his head gently. “Varlen, if it is apology you areattempting, I would much rather you refrain.” He paused, a familiar discomfort gnawingat his stomach, but forced himself to continue. “I know that we left each otheron rather unfortunate terms. To putit mildly, of course. But if it is quite the same to you, I would rather notdwell on that particular conversation.” Themistakes that I made. “The… things that were said.”

Varlen licked his lips, and therewas an air of uncertainty to the movement. For a time, Dorian feared he haddone precisely the wrong thing; that their parting words might have beensomething Varlen needed to address and he had just crushed that need underheel. But then the elven man released a long-held breath, some of the tensionleaving his shoulders as he did so, and glanced up to meet Dorian’s gaze. “Yeah.All right, sure.” A faint smile quirked up the corner of his lips. “So… I takeit you’re not going to lecture me, then?”

“Come now, let’s not be entirely unreasonable.”

Varlen laughed, and Dorian foundhimself succumbing to the desire as well. It was a giddy feeling, especiallyconsidering what had just transpired, but a part of him simply couldn’t helpit. His scribe was barely clinging to life, he had nearly been assassinated,and now his former lover stood before him swathed in black like a murderer fromsome cautionary tale. But he was smiling. Laughing.

These were strange times indeed.

They quieted after a moment,returning to a kind of still contemplation of one another, eyes locked.Focused. Neither seemed willing to break the connection. “I… had considered anumber of outcomes. For my meeting with Magister Tellene, that is.” Dorian’sconfession was soft, and he shook his head, still not quite believing what washappening. “But this… well, this one hadcertainly failed to cross my mind.”

“I know.” Varlen was the first tobreak the stillness, looking away and moving over towards the window. He peekedthrough the curtains, squinting against the late-afternoon sun. What he waslooking for, Dorian could not say. “I got most of them,” he eventuallyexplained after glancing over his shoulder and catching Dorian’s perplexedexpression. “But one of the assassins slipped past. I tried to chase him down,but the others cut me off and…” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, eyesflicking back out to the front of Maevaris’ estate. There was shame in theexpression. Whatever Varlen had intended, it clearly had not gone according toplan. Loose ends were always complicated, after all.

“I believe I ran into thatfellow, yes,” Dorian said. Varlen turned sharply at that, eyes widening inalarm, and Dorian quickly gave a placating wave of his hand. “Now, now, not tofret. He was… dealt with.”

“But the clothing they had on was—”

“You will find little in thisworld that is entirely mage-proof,Varlen.”

“Right. Yeah. Good point.” Varlencleared his throat, nodding and letting the curtain fall back into place as he steppedaway. He wiped his hands on his pants anxiously, and Dorian couldn’t help butfeel a pang of guilt. After all, he knew why Varlen might be in such a state.But before Dorian could find the correct words, Varlen turned to face him,expression tense. “Well, are you going to ask me or not?”

“Ask you…?”

“Why I’m here, Dorian.”

“Ah.” Dorian sighed, moving overto a sturdy mahogany table – a wood favoured by Maevaris and half themagisterium - and leaning against its edge. “Very well, then. Why are you here,Varlen?”

The elven man had seeminglyexpected an argument. He paused, mouth half open, and then closed it with aclick of his teeth. He was clearly on edge; Dorian could read that much, atleast. But despite it, Varlen pushed himself to speak. “I… heard rumours.”

Now it was Dorian’s turn tofrown. “You will have to be a tad more specific, Varlen. A great many rumours havecircled me of late.” He made a grand gesture at his bloodied robes. “Somewhat partof the office, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, well… part of the job ornot, I didn’t like what I heard.” He was pacing now, that familiar restlessenergy demanding some kind of outlet. Dorian said nothing, simply lettingVarlen sort through his thoughts. “I’d begged Leliana to keep an ear to theground for me, and she…” He swallowed; shook his head. “People want you dead, Dorian. More than most Magisters.Which I guess is something of anachievement, but not exactly what I‘d been hoping to hear.”

“And that surprised you?”

“… No.” Varlen sighed, raking hisfingers through his hair. Silver fading to black. “Just… do you know what it’slike? To be so far away and hear reports like that? Over and over again? Firstit’s unnamed mercenaries. Then trained assassins. Then suddenly any wealthy altus who can afford morethan a single attempt on your life. Then the threats started coming from yourfellow magisters. Dorian…” Varlenshook his head, although he was unable to look over and meet Dorian’s gaze andhis voice dropped to barely a whisper. “What was I supposed to do? Wait until Igot the news that y… that you’d been…?”

The unfinished question was metwith silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Dorian knew what he should say. You were supposed to stay away. It is notsafe here for you. That was, after all, the bitter note on which they hadended their relationship. Dorian had thought cutting ties was the only way tokeep his amatus out of danger. But they were no longer a couple – there was nolonger that sense of obligation – and Varlen had still come to him.

“I don’t know, Varlen.” It wasthe most honest answer Dorian had given anyone since returning to the Imperium,and it seemed Varlen sensed that by the way his gaze finally flicked over and stayedfocused on him. “Things here… they have been difficult. On that matter, I willnot lie. What I am attempting here was always going to breed some measure of hostility.” Slowly, painfully, he offered a weak smile. “If it is anyconsolation at all… this is the closest anyone has ever come to completingthe deed. Your timing remains remarkable as eve—”

To Dorian’s surprise, Varlen snorted. He seemed utterly amused, andDorian stopped mid-sentence, uncertain what to make of the outburst. Anapologetic look washed over Varlen’s face and he cleared his throatuncomfortably. “Sorry. It’s just… this wasn’t the closest. Not really.”

Dorian felt his face go slack. “Itwasn’t?”

Varlen shook his head. “Therewere a few times. At night, mostly. At your estate. Some were ready withpoisons, waiting for you to head to your rooms for the evening. They planned toslip it into the water pitcher on your bedside table. Once was…” He paused, asif uncertain if he should continue, but after an encouraging nod from Dorian,he did. “It was your old scribe, Dorian. She was to deliver you a message, butthe parchment was soaked through with something.She wore gloves so she wouldn’t touch it, but knew you wouldn’t have any onafter dinner.”

My scribe. For thebriefest moment, Dorian’s mind flickered to Adiran, but he quickly shooed theimage away. No, not him. The one the boy had replaced. “I thought she had simply fled my employ, the same as some of the others,” he murmured.Feeling strangely unsteady, he reached out, groping behind him, dragging one ofthe chairs out from beneath the table and sitting down. “Corellia. She hadserved my family for years. It was a shock, mind you, but I imagined many of myfather’s old staff were less than pleased by my replacing him.” Then, Dorianlooked up, grey eyes finding Varlen and fixing on the man. “So she… did you…?”

“I had to.” His voice was barelyabove a whisper, and Varlen closed his eyes, turning away. “She wanted to killyou, Dorian. What choice did I have?”

Dorian’s heart felt like stone,heavy and coarse. “Was she the only one? Among my household.”

“No.”

“And did you…?”

“Yes. I did.” Varlen let out ashivering breath, but opened his eyes again. Just a touch. But he did not lookat Dorian, and there was something defeated in the expression on his face. WhenVarlen worked up the will to speak again, his voice was hoarse, thick with a hurt that could not bedescribed. To hear it tore Dorian apart.

“I’m sorry, Dorian. For all ofit. I know you cared about them, but I couldn’t just let them go.” Hisvoice had risen as he spoke, edging into something panicked and desperate.“M-Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. Come here. Interfered. I just…” His voice cracked,and something inside Dorian cracked with it as Varlen turned away sharply,almost desperate to look away. “I didn’t think it would be so…”

“Varlen… come now, none of that.”Dorian rose quickly, ignoring the lurch of unsteadiness that accompanied themovement, and crossed the room in a few long strides. He reached out, takingVarlen by the shoulders, finally seeing the pain the man had been sodesperately trying to hide. Perhaps the mask had allowed him to pretend, for atime. Perhaps it had let him pretend it was someone else holding the blade and taking the lives. Now,that dark cloth lay abandoned on the floor, a black stain on Maevaris’ plush carpet.Dorian wanted nothing more than to burn it to ash. “Varlen… look at me.Please?” Slowly, the elven man’s gaze drifted up, glassy but stubborn, refusing to give in to the threat of likely much-needed tears. Dorian smiledfaintly and brushed a strand of hair from Varlen’s face. “I owe you my life, itseems. Many times over. What you have done… it is a debt I can only ever hopeto repay.”

Varlen just nodded, but the movementwas stiff. With a pang, Dorian realised that was not what he should have said.Wincing internally, the mage forged onward. He had to find what Varlen needed tohear. “What you have endured… I can only imagine how difficult it must havebeen. Tell me; were you alone?”

“Leliana,” Varlen murmured, eyeson Dorian’s chest rather than his face. “She would send information. Leads. Ijust followed them. Got in the way as often as I could.” He paused, and thenadded even more softly, “Some were… harder than others. There aren’t manyplaces for someone like me to go here, when things go wrong.” He snorted dryly. “You were right about that much, at least.” There was abitterness to that last remark that stung like a slap.

“Oh Varlen…” Unable to helphimself, Dorian just pulled the elven man into an embrace, holding him tight.At first, Varlen remained rigid, the way one might when dragged into anunexpected hug by an acquaintance. Polite endurance, nothing more. But then,after a few tense beats, he relaxed. Leaned into the embrace, wrapping his ownarms around Dorian and pulling him close, burying his head in the crook of hisneck. For a moment, everything almost felt like before. Dorian closed his eyes.Breathed in the familiar scent of his amatus. Maker’s breath…

Dorian had no idea how badly hehad missed this. How badly he had missed him.

“I have made so many mistakes,”Dorian murmured, shaking his head slightly, arms refusing to let go of Varlen.“More than I have any right to. But… how we left things…”

He felt Varlen shift against him,but he made no attempt to extract himself from the embrace, settling to mumbleagainst Dorian’s shoulder. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” Dorian just nodded, andVarlen continued. “I won’t lie. A part of me wanted to wash my hands of you. Itseemed… for the best, in a way. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but youwere right. Coming to Tevinter and standing at your side… it would have been too dangerous. There is just noway we could… be us here.”

A thought suddenly occurred toDorian that saw cold flood his skin. “Varlen, I need to make something clearthat I may have neglected. It is true, we can never be what we were inFerelden here, but it is not because I do not want it.” He tightened his grip instinctively. “Maker’s breath, even back then, against my better judgement, Iwanted it more than anything. But… the thought that you would come here becauseof me, and place yourself at risk…” Dorian felt his throat constrict but attemptedto talk through it. “If somethinghappened to you…”

“Stop. Dorian...” Varlen’s words were firm, but his touch remained gentle. Hepulled back, taking Dorian in, and it was only the expression of concernthat flashed across his face that made Dorian aware of the fact that he was,indeed, crying. Perhaps it was his exhaustion or his worry for Adiran, or hisdiscovery of Varlen struggling in the heart of the one place he had tried tospare him from. Perhaps it was a culmination of all the day’s miserable, bloodyevents. But regardless of the reason, silent tears had crept past Dorian’scareful guard, and he regretted them immediately. Ashamed of himself, Dorianmade to wipe them away in a harsh motion, but Varlen beat him to it. And hishands were gentle. His gloves soft. Without dismissal, he brushed away the first sign that,finally, Dorian had reached a limit he was not prepared to handle.

At least, not alone.  

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dorianbreathed, his voice only shaking ever so slightly. It was the most composedanyone could be while crying their eyes out, he liked to imagine. It helpedlessen the sting a touch. “Amatus, this is too dangerous. I won’t beresponsible for dragging you into it. I can’t.”

“Well that’s fine. Because youaren’t.” The words were so simple, and Varlen spoke them with such convictionthat it actually gave Dorian pause. A faint smile managed to find its way toVarlen’s lips and he held Dorian’s face in his hands, keeping their gazeslocked. “We broke up, Dorian. There was, as you said, no obligation for me tocome here.”

“You came anyway,” Dorianmurmured. Varlen nodded.

“I came anyway.”

“After everything I said to you.Everything I…”

“Yeah, well…” Varlen gave a faintshrug. It was meant to appear dismissive, but deep down, Dorian could onlyimagine how many months it must have taken for him to perfect it. “Turns out itwas going to take more than a bad fight to keep me away. Whether we’re togetheror not, Dorian, I care about you.You’re my friend as much as you were… more than that.” He swallowed, taking asecond to collect himself. “The fact of the matter is, I believe in what you’retrying to do. Fenedhis, I want you to succeed. I know I can’t helpout in the open, so I figured I would do it my way, and it was actuallyworking.”

“Until today.”

“Until today,” Varlen agreedquietly. He let go of Dorian, the tears having ceased as they spoke, and took asingle step back. Not too far, but far enough. “I… messed up, today. I was tooslow. I didn’t pay enough attention to the obvious threat, and it…” Varlen bithis lip, glancing towards the door. “Creators… he’s so young, Dorian. Just a kid.”

“I know.” Dorian’s voice washusky, and there was no helping it. He could still see Adiran’s shocked expression;that vacant stare at the roof of the carriage; and it pained him in a way thathe simply could not describe. “But it was not your fault, Varlen. Do not blameyourself. What you have been doing… it is already more than I deserve.”

“No, it isn’t.” Varlen steppedforward again, resting one hand on Dorian’s shoulder, squeezing intently.“Dorian, this would be a lot easier for both of us if you would just let mehelp you. It’s hard enough hiding from the rest of Tevinter without having to dodge you too.”

To Dorian’s surprise, a dry laughmanaged to escape him. “You say it as though you will continue regardless of myanswer.”

“Funny. That’s probably because Iwill.”

“You remain stubborn as ever.”

“Did you expect that to change?”

Varlen smiled, and Dorian evenmanaged a weak one back, not sure what precisely was happening between thembut grateful for it nonetheless. But something remained unspoken;something Dorian could not simply ignore. “Varlen… if you are to remain…”

“It’s like you said,” Varlensaid, cutting him off quickly. “We can’t be what we were in Ferelden. I get that. If we’reseen publicly together… well, let’s just say it wouldn’t help you start thismovement of yours.”

“Not when the people I amattempting to move possess moreprejudice than sense,” Dorian agreed reluctantly. “No, of course. You areright. We couldn’t.”

There was a pause. A long one. “Imean… did you actually…?” The words left Varlen so awkwardly that it remindedDorian of when they had first met. A pocket of warmth filled his chest as theelven man continued hurriedly. “I mean, yeah. No way. It couldn’t work…. right?”

“No. Not at all.”

The pause returned. Then Varlensaid something that caught Dorian completely off-guard.

“You called me amatus.”

Dorian blinked. “What? When?”

“Before. When you were… y’know…” He gestured to his face. “Crying.”

“Well now that’s hardly fair, tojudge a man when he is so clearly outof—”

—“Did you mean it?”

Dorian stopped. His mouth hungslightly open, as though in the process of giving voice to defensive words, butno sound passed his lips. Had he meantit? Thinking back, he did not even recall it, but he had no reasonwhatsoever to believe Varlen was lying. In the end, that meant only one thing.

“Yes.”

He had said that word; a word thatcarried so much weight. A word he had not been able to utter since they parted.A word he had dreaded and sampled and discarded more times than he could count.If he had truly said it, after all this time, and without even realising… then yes.He meant it more than anything.

His response seemed to stirsomething in Varlen because he sniffed suddenly, blue eyes flicking away asthough the far wall suddenly offered something incredibly interesting. “I…” Helet out a watery laugh. “I really fucking missed that, you know? The way you’d say it.”

Dorian didn’t bother holding backthis time. He just reached out, turned Varlen towards him, and kissed him. Theirlips pressed together, warm and soft and everything he remembered; Maker,everything he had wanted for so long.There was no stiffening of surprise from Varlen. Not even a hitching of breathas Dorian’s tongue swiped along the inner curve of his lips, tentativelyseeking more. If anything, he had been more ready for the moment than Dorianhimself, who had initiated it. Varlen opened his mouth, inviting Dorian in, onehand threading through his hair, the other sliding past up his armand coming to rest on his shoulder, holding him in place. Holding him close. Dorian turned them both, moving afew mindless steps until Varlen was against the table, their lips still locked,hands roaming one another as though feeling their shapes for the first time.And in a way, there was a newness of it. The newness of a fire rekindled.

Dorian broke the kiss for amoment, rasping a breath, neither drawing away not pushing for more. “Amatus…” he breathed, shaking his head,not quite believing what was happening. Not quite believing how badly he hadneeded it, all this time. A low chuckled curled from Varlen’s chest, meetingthe fond curve of his lips.

“There it is…” Varlen’s eyes wereclosed, almost peaceful, his head cocked slightly to the side as thoughlistening to beautiful music somewhere in the distance. Then, slowly, his eyesfluttered open to catch Dorian’s. Dorian’s expression was, understandably, confused, but Varlen justsmiled, his thumb brushing along the curve of Dorian’s cheek.

“How you said it. That was it.”Understanding flickered in Dorian’s eyes and Varlen leaned in, stealing aquick, chaste kiss, smiling against his lips. “It was just like that.” 

[secondsofhappiness]

Curios anon on cheating. I've seen you write that cheating is unacceptable in any form, but I've also seen you reblog Vadam content. The 2015 Vadam story is very similar to this current Robron story. Adam is also a serial cheater as well who has cheated on every partner he's had, Scarlet with Mia, Mia with Mia's mum, Vic with Vanessa. Can you explain why this is so different?

Ok, this is my final discussion post on this.

I’m happy to talk anything but if you want to know my feelings currently (and I can’t see them changing soon) on this situation then this is it. Feel free to chat about all other things as I adore talking to you all. Most of it is under a cut as many don’t want to read this stuff.

As I’ve said before, cheating is a really difficult one for me and if you’ve read my posts, you can understand why. I don’t understand the desires for that stuff at all and I can’t empathise on a human level with those feelings so I don’t think I can really ever understand cheating. I try to relate it to issues like trust and respect and view a relationship in those practical ways because I will never have the impulse to cheat, not because I’m perfect or a saint but because I don’t have any interest or natural wish for anything sex related with another person. So yeah, I approach this stuff from a really different view point.

Cheating, as I understand, can be something that people do because they can’t help it, they are self destructing, they are needy and emotional… this is what I’ve seen on TV and movies and I have to just accept that’s a thing. I’ve never had any experience of ever feeling in any way interested in being with someone that I like romantically in that way and so I can’t confirm why people cheat or if that is something that’s understandable. To me, it isn’t understandable.

So I hope you can see why I struggle with it. I know it sounds weird and a lot of people might not be able to understand but that’s the best way I can describe it. I may sound broken or whatever but it’s just the way I am so I have a different perspective.

So I try to view cheating objectively as best as I can. I actually wasn’t watching ED at the time that Adam cheated on Vic. This was for personal reasons because of Laurel’s alcoholism storyline. So I haven’t actually ever seen those scenes. I understand they were broken up following Vic freaking out about a proposal.

But I view each relationship on its merits and as I’ve said before, I approach it all from gut feelings. Adam has cheated before. He’s a serial cheat. So is Rob. Adam did most of that when he was a daft kid (see 99% of Rob’s escapades). None of that is an excuse but the whole Mia and her mum nightmare was tacky as all hell and I hated it at the time mainly because I really wasn’t a fan of the that family - Declan aside.

Many characters on ED cheat and have cheated. So many of them I adore. I adored them before and will adore them still. Take Chas. Chas is a problematic fave. She has cheated before. I still adore her. That’s because many of the stories she was in, the writing supported the situation. See Cameron. That was DRAMATIC AS ALL HELL but it actually made sense in a twisted way. Back then, Chas was a mess and Debbie was tied up with a dying child. It felt dark and difficult but at neither point was either relationship played out to be wonderful or framed as Aaron and Rob’s has. Rob is (I want to say was but I am holding back till I see what the show is doing) a problematic fave. He has cheated on numerous occasions - every single relationship.

With Chas, it’s not a specific character trait. She has made poor decisions (mainly fuelled by Carl King!) With Rob it is. He is a serial cheater. It’s what he has used for power / purpose for most of his life. He has made stupid decisions like this for years. This is nothing new.

The reason I have an issue now is because of the framing of the storyline. Adam and Chas and Laurel etc have all cheated and they were all WRONG in doing that. Rob is entirely wrong in cheating now and it is cheating, to me, regardless of alcohol and according to him he did it on purpose out of spite.

His storyline has been couched in “change”, his quest to be a better person and NOBODY expected him to be perfect. I was reasonably ok with November, he has messed up in plenty of ways through the period of change and that was all reasonably logical for me. I don’t like perfect characters.

Cheating is NOT out of character for him. It is in character for 2015 Rob but the following are the reasons that THIS instance is very different for me:

- He has kissed Rebecca a total of three times now. All of them intentionally. And used words on two occasions that specifically relate to lingering feelings and a reminiscence about their time together. That’s a pattern of behaviour. There’s a reason for that.

- Aaron expressed, on multiple occasions, that he was uncomfortable with Rebecca and I didn’t feel Rob was acting wrongly assisting her with work but he was entirely aware of Aaron’s feelings on the matter so much so he took off his ring and they had a blazing row… that argument and many problems prior were because of Rebecca.

- Rob has promised specifically on more than one occasion that he will be faithful and not just throwaway lines. Frequent and pointed references to fidelity and how Aaron is “different” for him. He’s it.

- Aaron’s jealousy re: Rebecca and torment due to his mental health and Rob’s actions was the trigger for his situation with Kasim

- The scene in the prison did in no way indicate that their relationship was over. They have had horrific arguments and this was absolutely one of the tamest. And I still don’t understand what Rob meant on Friday about them being over. I’m not clear on what he thought or if he lied to Rebecca etc

- Rob has specifically said that he did this out of spite to get back at Aaron whilst knowing the significant impact it would have on him

- They are mere weeks beyond a commitment ceremony and I appreciate that both broke vows, those vows were made honestly. So are the show suggesting that this ceremony meant so little that even this show of commitment is not enough? How could any formal wedding be enough? Are they suggesting that the circumstances were too much to cope with and two broken people made enormous mistakes? Well don’t have Robert stating he did it to hurt Aaron and don’t have the scene that is intended to cause the fall out so weak and nonsensical in terms of their entire relationship (aka it was a mere chat to half of the stuff they’ve been through) that it felt like a nothing situation

- I’ve already talked the Bisexuality issue to death but it is important and a very valid issue. Don’t have your character state time and time again that bisexuality will not make him cheat, bisexuality does not mean he’ll act on attraction to another person and then have him state that he loves lots of people before sleeping with someone else. That was utterly cruel and gave an appalling message. He is more than his sexuality and cheating doesn’t have anything to do with his sexuality, yes, but by previously (and on more than once occasion) linking fidelity to bisexuality you have created that link yourself… ?

- This cheating scenario was out of spite but also due to feeling down… ok, Rob is a grown man and a broken one and people aren’t machines… we hurt and we do stupid stuff and yes I don’t understand cheating but Rob drew Rebecca to The Mill, he pressed the issue, he used his words to get her to sleep with him, in the bedroom he intends to share with Aaron in their home. That alone is enough to make me uncomfortable and it’s entirely cruel.

- Alcohol, to me and in my experience, brings out truth.

- Robert comes off much worse here. If the show’s intention was to depict two broken men as destroyed as the other and making poor and misguided decisions then they failed in my opinion because Aaron’s situation is entirely different and he has made poor choices but has no freedom, limited support and has undergone specific and systematic violence so used a crutch. Robert has been a bit stressed, has missed his fiancé, has had a few kid problems and finds Aaron making a mistake and is told to leave… then goes out of his way to hurt Aaron in the worst way imaginable. That’s not the Rob I know. That’s Rob of 2015 and it would have been in character but these circumstances are no where near bad enough for me to logically accept that this would be where Rob would go at this present time.

Aaron is in no way an angel and is 100% in the wrong but the storyline balance is vastly skewed in my opinion. Robert Sugden is not a baby and can cope with stressful situations. He has has Aaron telling him he hates him and still stuck around. Aaron said “do one” and Rob tipped over the edge… why?

There are numerous other reasons. Many cheating storylines on this show are either done in a quick and empty way (Nicola and Dan, Kerry and Ross etc). The build up is neither focused on fidelity or post marriage… it normally comes due to a break down in the relationship etc. It also doesn’t entirely break the relationships around them that have been fostered for years. They are not normally engineered to depict a situation that has been specifically stated as the worst possible for the other spouse - aka this is Aaron’s worst nightmare, the situation he drove himself nuts about for weeks.

So in answer to your question, I view each situation separately and try to judge it objectively. I have not enjoyed or supported many cheating storylines in the past. Some are so pointless and hardly touched upon I forget they ever happened (Moira and Pete) and some are logical and I get it (Laurel and Marlon) because the writing shows how this person may make this decision and although it may be wrong, how their mindset may impact them to make a mistake or act unfaithfully.

Nothing made this, to me, logical or understandable it was framed within an already rushed and uncomfortable storyline for me. The writing has confused me (did Rob lie to R about being over? Did he think they were over? Did I not think it? When did he ever question he didn’t love Aaron that on the morning he realised he loved him again? Does he want to remain friends with Rebecca? WHY? Why does he think it’s acceptable to keep it from Aaron and only agree to admit due to Chas & R’s actions? Why did he not ask Aaron why he was saying those things? He has pushed plenty with Aaron in the past when he’s been self destructing.)

None of it made sense to me and the limited info we have from writers was that, well Rob was having a hard time so he made a mistake. The writing doesn’t tell me that in its entirety. The writers etc also suggest that this was to cause drama and contention in their relationship… was there not already contention? Was Aaron’s drug use not enough? Was Rob’s already present issues with R not enough? Was their previous well written and explored argument not enough? Was November not enough? Was Aaron’s assault not enough?

It was cheap and I don’t understand it and I definitely haven’t considered this storyline or the characters the same since. I can’t be positive about it because I hoped there’d be some logical way to understand these actions and I can’t find one!

The powers that be don’t seem to see that any of this is an issue. They think it’s ok that they have a popular couple and can do what they want with them and it feels as if character driven and logical story telling is devoid here and is replaced with an incentive to use their popularity to create headlines. That’s not something I’m interested in.

It’s terribly sad. I ADORE these characters. I truly truly do. I have grown up with them, loved them, supported them, learned with them, shook my head at them, cheered them on, shouted at my screen at them and enjoyed their growth and humour and pain and happiness.

It’s not an enjoyable thing to not find any joy in that anymore but that’s where I am.

I choose to see how it plays out and maybe my opinion will change but I need to wait to see if they intend to keep the cheap drama surrounding this storyline. I’m not used to ED being like this. If they choose to do it and have R pregnant then I don’t think I can stomach a Sugden/White baby (The Whites are one of the worst families ED has ever had in my personal opinion) and I certainly can’t stomach R as a character because she’s so poorly written and flip floppy I really couldn’t care less anymore! I need characters who make sense not ones who are expected to be adored because they say nice things then act appallingly.

Love is not enough in my opinion. Love comes from action. I have been told I was loved and then treated disgracefully. To say you love someone and yet to treat them without respect, thought or compassion (that includes one catastrophic mistake out of spite) is not love. This is my personal opinion and many will disagree.

So I will see and I expect the show to play this out to flesh out these issues and explain and to satisfactorily develop the characters to address the parts of them that need fixing without using it for cheap drama. I need the show to not change a character’s personality just to climb the peak again because it’s “fun to test relationships”. It is! It’s great fun to watch but only if it makes sense. If it doesn’t then it isn’t enjoyable for me.

That’s the last I’ll say on it. I’ll no doubt post if I change my mind and when the show develops and I see how they’re intending to progress with this storyline but until then I choose Faith Dingle and her ridiculous seances, Bernice and her terrible love advice etc.

I hope this covers everything. Sending love to you all :)

[darapnerd]

G33k HQ Presents: MC Front-A-Lot Interview

Interview Questions From G33K-HQ & Darealwordsound (Wordy): Nerdcore Interview Collaboration Questions

MC Front: Thank you for bearing with me! So sorry to continually drop the ball on this. Here you go.

Wordy: What was your first creative outlet? MC Front: I seem to remember kindergarten involving a lot of drawing. First and second grade had poetry exercises sometimes. But the way we played D&D between 2nd and 6th grades was how my imagination really got fired up. We didn\'t like dice and maps that much. We\'d take turns DMing and just sort of freestyle the stories to each other at recess. Wordy:  What was the first rap album you ever purchased? MC Front: It was also my first CD. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, He\'s the DJ, I\'m the Rapper. Wordy: Who are your biggest music inspirations?

  MC Front: Tom Waits, Public Enemy, Bjork

Wordy: Describe your studio to us.

  MC Front: I have an Ikea desk that\'s been out of print for 10 years so I get fussy when anyone leans on it. Creaky, cheap old thing. It\'s the only one where you can bolt the rotating side shelves at any height. Perfect for the near-field monitors and re-aiming them for any version of the stereo field. I mix there in my bedroom which isn\'t treated, but I\'ve been in there so long that I can work around most of the room effects. I have a coat closet fully treated, very dead and dry, for vocals. I keep some buttons in there to engineer myself, but everything\'s still happening on the studio computer. My pre-amp and mics and monitors are satisfactory. I could use a better ADC/DAC.

  I will record occasional hand percussion, etc, in that closet booth, but very little fits in there. For other acoustic capture, I\'ll rent time at a real studio (any time I\'m tracking my drummers) or I\'ll go field-record strings at someone\'s apartment.

  A solid two thirds of the non-vocal sound on the albums is electronic, and I can get keyboard performances or work on drum machine material in the project studio without worrying about the ambient noises of Brooklyn.

  Wordy: Describe your ideal home studio if money wasn\'t a problem.

  MC Front: A proper treatment of the mixing room would be great. I guess I\'d have twenty of these Avalon pre-amps and a little drum room, as well as a booth big enough for upright bass or cello. There is almost unlimited fanciness available in the hardware market... I guess I\'d have to make a hobby out of shopping. I\'d still use Reaper as my DAW, though -- the least expensive version of that kind of software, and also the best. I could probably spend sixty grand on plugins.

Wordy: What is your creative process for writing and or producing a song?

MC Front: Baddd Spellah, my Canadian beatsmithing partner, has been kind enough to work on grooves with me for the last fifteen years. Usually I will start with something he\'s been kicking around, or he\'ll take a pass at some live drum that I\'ve been chopping up, and we\'ll add keyboard material from Gm7 (Gaby Alter), my longtime music co-writer. When there is a verse-appropriate groove that is in pretty good shape, I\'ll leave it on loop and write. Once in a while, I\'ll write a hook over a groove that feels like a chorus, and start from there. After I\'ve got most of a lyric, I\'ll put down a scratch vocal so that Spellah and I can build a full song arrangement. Then I\'ll record too many takes of the final vocal, and spend too many months dicking around with the comp, the mix, and all the instrumental details. Finally I\'ll listen to it on as many different devices as I can, fine-tune the mix, and stay up for a week and a half making increasingly bad decisions about everything on the album, leading up to the mastering appointment I foolishly committed to several months prior.

  Wordy: What is your happiest On-Stage Moment?

  MC Front: I think a PAX crowd demanded a second encore once. That makes you feel like a superstar.

Wordy: What was your favorite song to write or record?

  MC Front: Maybe Stoop Sale? But that might be because the video came out so well. For the most part, my happiness with the process relies entirely on the result: it makes me happy to listen to a track if I don\'t just hear a barrage of fuckups that it\'s too late to go back and fix. But there aren\'t very many of those. Of all my lyrics, I\'m probably proudest of Two Dreamers from the Question Bedtime album. I feel like I worked out every bit of the story and then obscured it just enough that the listener\'s careful attention is rewarded.

Wordy: What advice do you have for aspiring artists?

  MC Front: Practice a lot, develop your talent. Get the skills you need to properly communicate with whoever your creative partners are. Take the craft seriously but give yourself a break for not having mastered it -- that is a lifelong process with no actual end goal.

Wordy: What project do you feel best describes you as an artist?

  MC Front: The Nerdcore Rising documentary probably says more about me and the band than I\'d ever be able to, and in kinder words. Of my own projects, I like the Zero Day and Solved albums as a window into whatever it is I\'m trying to say about nerdcore.

Wordy: How do you feel about the disconnect between \"Nerdcore\" and \"HipHop\"?

  MC Front: Well, hip-hop is a cultural movement with very specific origins and elements. Rap is a formal music style that emerged from hip-hop. Any \'variation\' or \'new perspective\' that someone brings to rap is fine -- if meaningless. It might matter that you came up with a new thing to say, but the fact that you chose an unusual form for your expression should be the least interesting thing about it. You can write a march for your peace movement, even if marches come from military music, because the march itself is just a formal style of composition. You\'d be smart to note the ironic relationship there, or you\'d be dumb to suggest that there isn\'t one, or that your choice to use a march as an expression of pacifism somehow reaches backward and affects the origin of the form. Anyone who thinks they\'re \'expanding\' or \'liberating\' hip-hop from its roots by rapping about things that haven\'t been rapped about traditionally is probably an idiot. 

  My idea about hip-hop was only to observe that it was cool. Like, it was the coolest thing happening in American culture when I was a kid, and it probably still is. Breakdancers were the coolest kids on the playground. Graffiti kids were the coolest outlaws in fourth grade. And rappers were the coolest possible composers of verse.

  To want to compose and perform verse in that formal style without having any direct connection to hip-hop, and without being cool, is the sort of desire nerd kids might express by themselves, away from arbiters of hipness, and share only with other uncool kids. The idea of nerdcore went no deeper than that, originally. I\'m glad that a lot of other DIY rappers have found that resonant enough to expand upon.

  Wordy: Do you feel more \"Nerdcore\" rappers should know about its roots in \"HipHop\"?

  MC Front: Definitely. I remember trying to write a Villanelle in a college poetry class. First, we had to read and dissect a sheaf of them. The professor was of the opinion that we would all flounder in the assignment, because there had been only a handful of good Villanelles ever written. I\'m sure none of us wrote one of lasting value. The point was to learn how formal composition connects works, and to appreciate the complications. You can always just do it anyway. But knowing where it comes from and how it\'s been attempted before teaches you how to try to do it well. I think anyone who wants to compose lyrics within the rap genre should know all they can about how raps have been composed so far.

  That doesn\'t even begin to address the cultural issue. Some artists misidentify nerdcore as comedy music, and worse yet, think the joke is \"it\'s rap, but white kids are doing it.\" I think that outlook leads to the weakest possible songs, and is generally disrespectful of hip-hop in a way that concerns me and offends anyone who cares about American culture. Of course, not all of the nerdcore rappers are white, but all of the schticky ones are. I wonder if a delve into hip-hop\'s history would cure them of that impulse, or at least afford them the humility to hush it up.

Wordy: Are you involved in any philanthropy in your local communities or abroad?

  MC Front: I try to do something in support of Child\'s Play every year. I\'m going to contribute to the upcoming Worldbuilders album project.

Wordy: Can you freestyle? Meaning rap off the top of the head? If so, can we see you drop a few bars next time live?

  MC Front: I never do this! I think I\'ve conditioned myself into a certain kind of vanity. Almost everything on the albums is rapped in complete sentences, with rhymes that I\'ve never used previously. Freestyling doesn\'t work that way. I\'m too ashamed to let anyone see me freestyling about the frog, on a log, in a bog, who got sog-gy.

Wordy: Do you consider yourself a “GEEK”?

  MC Front: Of course.

Wordy: In your own words, describe what the word “GEEK” means to you?

MC Front: I decided at some point a long time ago that geeks are all direct descendants of the side-show geek, whose job was biting heads off of chickens. They weren\'t special in any way, except that they were willing and able to do that thing, and it was a fairly extreme thing to do. But because nobody else at the carnival was willing to go to that extreme, the geekery came to seem like a highly specialized skill.

  That\'s why you can be a geek about anything. You just need a topic where your knowledge or expertise is so specialized that it seems distastefully extreme to non-geeks. You can geek out about fantasy novels or about robot AIs. But you can also geek out about car engines or cooking. You don\'t have to be a nerd to geek out.

  Nerds are almost always geeks, and their subjects of geekery are often recognizably nerdy. But a nerd is something else, a person who was already too weird or too smart, and felt alienated, and embraced geekery as an alternative to whatever broader pursuits the cool kids enjoyed.

  Wordy: What is your earliest geek memory?

  MC Front: I was a Star Wars geek starting at age three and a half when the first one came out. It was the only thing I wanted to do. I made adults take me to see it 11 times before Empire came out (I kept careful count). I collected the Kenner figures obsessively until they stopped making new ones a year or two after Jedi.

  Wordy: What is your \"Geek\" hobby? Do you collect comic books? Anime? Video games?

  MC Front: I do still love comics, but I own too many. Video games take up less space. I spend more time gaming than I do working on music, occasionally 70 or 80 hours in a week. It\'s as much an emotional self-medication as it is a hobby.

Wordy: Who are your Top 5 emcees dead or alive?

  MC Front: In no order: Busdriver, MF Doom, Del, Q-Tip, Chuck D

Wordy: When is your next show or tour?

  MC Front: When I get the dang old album done! Maybe spring 2017 for tour. PAX South is the soonest lone show.

Wordy: Do you have a new album coming out?

  MC Front: It\'s called INTERNET SUCKS, and it is going to have a heavy \'get off my lawn\' vibe. Everyone will be mad at me, yet secretly agree with every word on the record. Watch for it to take your feeds by storm.

  http://frontalot.com

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