#it's for symbolism instead! and to remind you that you're not talking to a mere person

[bitsbug]

iterator puppets but they’re puppets

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc (sounds like a bad joke) AU: A Cat, an Amazon and an underage Dead kid walk into a bar...

Selina Kyle was on official Catwoman business on the Coast of Greece, though of course she told her currently on (off again on again) boyfriend Bruce that it was just a girls weekend away. A particular jewel came to mind and it needed to be hers, ancient Obsidian carved with symbols of power (and yes, one of the symbols happened to be a cat.)

Selina knew she was getting close to the artifact when Diana Prince showed up. The no-good goody-two-shoes museum curator seemed to have a will of iron, and each time they crossed paths, the tall beauty had some passing remark about Bruce (which was really starting to get under Selina's skin) and the fact that they were just friends. Who does this chick even think she is? Just because she can speak fluent Greek, knows Selina's boyfriend's favorite bedtime story to read his kids, and has an ass that just won't quit doesn't mean she's better than her!

Selina is going to (remind herself frequently that women in competition is just a factor of the misogynistic capitalistic society they live in) do her best to keep under the radar, steal the artifact fast, and then make Bruce propose to her.

But then this weird scrawny kid shows up and asks if she's seen something of his. Selina is on the street, sitting at a table outside the local cafe conveniently located across the street from the auction house holding the artifact, when he approaches. He looks like he could be one of Bruce's kids, made distinct by his very nervous demeanor and shrunken shoulder's attempting to make him look smaller. Briefly, he tells her about a piece of black glass that has a few drawings of his on it, about the size of his palm, and may or may not have some lingering ability to... he doesn't finish his sentence.

Diana was walking across the street to go into the auction house... but to Selina's chagrin, the tall could-be-a-model crosses and approaches them instead. Her eyes are settled on the young man, and he's nervously asking her something in Greek. (How did a kid with a midwestern accent speak fluent greek?) Diana explains that he must have gotten a replica of the item showing in the Auction house somehow, and the kid looks like he's eaten a sour lemon all of a sudden.

A projectile comes hurdling at them a mere moment after the kid's cold breath becomes visible in the hot greek sun- Diana braces the impact for them both, her golden bracers revealed from under her sensible work blouse sleeves.

"Oh! You're Wonder Woman!" The kid gleefully exclaims, which makes Diana and Selina both die a little inside, before adding: "Hey, no worries about this guy, I got 'em. But could you grab that chunk of obsidian for me? It's mine and I'm seriously in hot water for having broken my cro- er- for losing it in the first place. Thanks!"

He suddenly bloomed into white hair and green eyes, a dark suit appearing from nowhere, and flew towards the threat. Wonder Woman didn't spare a single word on Selina and chased after him into combat.

Selina sipped on her coffee and, upon finishing it- casually got up, went to the auction house, and stole the Obsidian. Finders Keepers.

It was the late afternoon when Diana walked into the Bar right behind Selina with the teen at her side. He looked nervous but was eye-ing the bottles on the wall as much as he was trying to look intimidating to her. Diana looked annoyed at best, and not just with Selina.

"I think we should have a little chat, sound good to you Kitten? Princess, did you want to stay to talk too?" Selina's famous cat like grin on full display.

[cnnmairoll]

heyy, hope you're doing well! take your time with this, but could i request for angst with luka x reader? the premise is that we got into a really bad argument with him and we offhandedly tell him that he deserved to lose his arm. but instead of getting angry at us, luka just gets uncharacteristically dejected and silent, remembering all the struggle he experienced trying to cope with what he lost. 🥲 reader apologizes and they make up in the end after a day of not talking with each other ofc, but yk... angst first </3

- 🥊 anon

p.s.: i love your writing! ^-^ and congrats on getting more followers, pls keep going !! ✨️

Reckless Words

Pairing : Luka x Reader Genre : Angst, Hurt/Slight Comfort (?) a/n : Why would you want to hurt the sweetest boy, reader (◞‸◟；) But nice seeing you again 🥊 anon !! Hope this fills your expectation ! I never write for angst before :')

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦.

The bitterness of regret hung in the air, a stifling reminder of the words that had been flung recklessly between you and Luka. The argument had spiraled far beyond logic, leaving behind an oppressive silence that seemed to weigh down the room.

Luka, usually a beacon of boundless enthusiasm and hope, now stood before you with his shoulders slumped and his once-brilliant blue eyes dulled by an unfamiliar sorrow. His fair complexion seemed almost ashen, as if the burden of the world had settled upon him in an instant.

The words had slipped out in a moment of rage, fueled by frustration and resentment, yet now they hung between you like an insurmountable chasm. "You deserved to lose your arm!" The venom in your voice had been undeniable, a weapon you'd wielded carelessly in the heat of the moment. But as you saw the devastation in Luka's eyes, the magnitude of your mistake struck you with a force you hadn't anticipated.

Luka's robotic arm, a symbol of his sacrifice and courage, gleamed dully in the subdued lighting. It told a story of the day he had rescued that frightened child, the day he had given everything to shield another soul from harm's way. Yet now, that same arm bore the weight of your impulsive words, a scar that ran deeper than the metal and wires.

He had faced danger, confronting a mutated monster that posed a threat to innocent lives, and in the process, he had relinquished a fragment of himself. The memory replayed in his mind, an unceasing loop of sound—the blast, the terrified child clutched in his arms, and then the abrupt realization that his arm was gone.

If only you could rewind time, swallow your spiteful words before they had the chance to inflict such damage. But regret was a cruel companion, reminding you of the fracture you'd created, the hurt you'd inflicted upon someone who had always championed you, who had fought his own battles to protect others.

The silence that followed felt like a heavy shroud, a stark reminder of the gulf that had opened up between you. This was no longer a mere argument; it was a betrayal of trust, a wound that might forever leave its mark. Amidst it all, Luka's demeanor, marked by an uncharacteristic despondence, conveyed more than any words ever could. He had not only lost an arm that day, but a piece of his identity, and your thoughtless words had torn open that wound once more.

The lingering echoes of your harsh words filled the room, a suffocating presence that refused to dissipate. What had started as a disagreement had evolved into a tempestuous clash of emotions, and now, as the storm subsided, you stood on the precipice of a newfound understanding.

You observed as Luka's shoulders sagged, his usual vivacity extinguished, replaced by an aura of fragility. The robotic arm, once emblematic of his resilience and strength, seemed paradoxically delicate, a testament to his struggles and victories.

Luka's gaze dropped to his mechanical limb, his fingers tracing its contours absentmindedly. You had anticipated anger, a retort as fiery as the hair atop his head, a defense of his worth and sacrifices. Yet, instead, there was an atypical stillness—a silence that resonated more profoundly than any response ever could.

In that moment, regret engulfed you, a visceral sensation that seemed to grip your heart. You had crossed a line that could never be redrawn. You had wounded him, not just physically, but in the depths of his being. Your words had struck at the heart of his pain, unearthing memories he had sought to bury—the memory of a day when he had faced danger head-on to protect the innocent.

Images flashed through his mind—the deafening blast, the searing agony that followed, the moment he had looked down to see his arm brutally severed. Blood mingled with dirt, a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

And now, your words had torn through his defenses, exposing the fragility that lurked beneath his resilience, the wounds that time had yet to heal. You had ripped open a wound that had taken immense effort to close, reopening the scars of a battle he had fought not only physically, but within the recesses of his soul.

The following day arrived, and you found yourself standing outside Luka's door, a mixture of guilt and apprehension churning within you. Hours had been spent reflecting on your actions, on the gravity of your mistake. Apologies, you knew, could never fully mend the damage inflicted, but you were resolute in your determination to try.

As the door creaked open, Luka's form came into view, his eyes still holding traces of the sorrow you had wrought. Your voice trembled as you began, "Luka, I... I'm so sorry. There are no words to convey how deeply remorseful I am for what I said. It was thoughtless, cruel, and I understand if you can't find it in your heart to—"

A gentle touch, Luka's finger against your lips, silenced your words. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within you. His eyes met yours, a fusion of pain, understanding, and a hint of forgiveness.

"It's going to take time," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that spoke of the battles he had fought within himself. "I won't pretend that your words didn't hurt, but I also know that people say things they don't mean in the heat of the moment. Just… give me some time to heal."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes as you realized the depth of his generosity. He was willing to give you a chance to make amends, to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to promise that you would do everything in your power to make things right.

But you also understood that healing would be a journey, one that couldn't be rushed. Luka's struggle with his loss had been a testament to his strength, and now, as you faced the consequences of your actions, you were determined to show him your own strength—a strength that lay in your willingness to confront your mistakes and to fight for the love that had been tested but not broken.

[hats-off-to-nyx]

Dear ....

hi

The title of the playlist I sent you to catch your attention

Funny enough it did

You were nice... I guess, but made me fall for you twice as much nevertheless.

You didn't even wonder why I randomly sent it to you, only said it was cute and you'll listen to it too.

Damn, the effect you had on me was so huge. The mere fact you accepted my friend request sent butterflies bursting.

I was sick after exam week, Intramurals, PE day and some personal shit, but one interaction from you sent me smiling all week. 

Talking with you was a roller coaster ride of emotions. One time I smiled too much it’d hurt my face, one time, my frown was so visible, my face looked like it was drooping.

Sending you songs I want to recommend for the sake to keep talking to you. You recommend songs back i'd listen to it until tomorrow.

My heart raced like it was in a marathon, other times it broke like bits and pieces like scattered stars on the cosmos.

My heart swooned whenever you talk about your favorites. How you gush over things you were passionate about.

How I really wanted to escape my house at dead midnight just to come to you and comfort you in your problems you cryptically relay.

Jokes, that I sometimes took seriously, haha sorry about that.

Words you wrote and symbols you accompany drove me in a whirlwind of thoughts

Candies, laughs, and you called me "sweet soul"

You had me wrapped…

But one faithful night I accidentally confessed

I feared I might've scared you off

It wasn't what I planned, being friends with you was already fine

You said we were totally alright, that we're better off friends, I accepted that

But...

That was the end

Or

Was that the beginning I started to open my eyes...

Tiny little red flags I deliberately ignored. 

It was always me who initiated the talk. You only reply fast if the topic only interested you

You barely even recommended songs to me?

It was always me...

Did you really even listened to the songs I sent?

A tornado of anxiety came rushing in

What if you mocked how stupid I was. Sent it to friends to have them mock me with you. Laugh at how stupid and desperate I was. How pathetically bullshit I was…

But hey, maybe I'm just overthinking? You're not like that right?

Maybe you were busy. I'm sure there are times you can't reply to your friends quickly

Haha…

Here I am gaslighting myself again

Convincing myself I've never made you feel uncomfortable 

Or that you didn't long pressed my messages just because I'm a person in your life as irrelevant as the stranger you meet everyday

That you just had so much to think about 

I guess?

Well…

That was until one night, something cleared out my suspicion

It was another Intramurals at school. I wasn't a student anymore because I stopped to focus on work.

I attended because I really wanna see my friends

To see you…

It was awarding night, I saw you with your team waiting for your time to get on the stage. You were on your phone. So I decided to chat you…

"Hey **** you at school?"

Was I too desperate? I don't know…

But you never replied, even viewed my message, nothing…

I wondered if you didn't receive it, but how? You were on your phone the whole time

You only replied hours later

Haha fck that kinda hurt

Was I not even your friend?

But hey... Who am I even...

So no biggie

I only got to see you when we finally approached you... You were so nice, made me forget you ignored my message haha

But, I was constantly reminded of that, everytime

Like a a ghost

That kept on haunting me

I'm no one

Just another one of your admirers

It's funny because, you were one of the reason why Intramurals was memorable

It started with Intramurals, and I think it ended with Intramurals

So I wrote this letter to pour out my emotions. Instead, it made me realize many things

I’m merely but an annoyance for you. And I apologize for that

I know you have someone you call your “mine”

I'll stop now before I fall even deeper into the rabbit hole I dug

This is fine

Maybe it's for the best

It is for the best

So 

Consider this letter the last

Dear ....

[lowtaxsa]

Žižek vs. Herzog, FIGHT!!!!

LOWTAX: (slurring) Alright, alright, let's get this Monty Python circus show started. We've got Slavoj "The Sniffler" Žižek and Werner "The Auteur" Herzog. Let's dive into this intellectual mosh pit. Gentlemen, you may begin.

SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK: (sniffling and wiping his nose) You see, the problem with capitalism is that it's like a grotesque Monty Python skit. We are all just lumberjacks, singing and dancing while the system exploits us. Our suffering is nothing but a farce!

WERNER HERZOG: (in a deep, solemn voice) But Slavoj, life itself is a farce. We are all just penguins marching toward our own demise, as I have seen firsthand in the wilds of Antarctica. Capitalism is not the cause of our suffering; it is merely a symptom of our existential predicament.

LOWTAX: (laughs) Oh, you two are killing me! But seriously, why don't we talk about something that really matters, like who would win in a fight between a walrus and a narwhal?

SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK: (sniffling) Well, you see, this question is a perfect example of the absurdity inherent in our society. Instead of discussing pressing issues, we focus on nonsensical distractions.

WERNER HERZOG: (nodding) I agree with Slavoj. The true battle lies within our own souls, not in the animal kingdom. We must confront the dark abyss of our own nature before we can hope to create a better world.

LOWTAX: (hiccuping) You guys are real party poopers, you know that? Fine, let's talk about something else. What about the cultural significance of rubber chickens?

SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK: (sniffling) Ah, the rubber chicken, a symbol of the meaningless humor that permeates our society. We must look beyond these distractions and confront the oppressive systems that control our lives!

WERNER HERZOG: (slowly) Rubber chickens represent the absurdity of existence. They are a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we must find humor and resilience.

LOWTAX: (laughs) Alright, I think that's enough philosophy for one day. Thanks for joining me in this ridiculous conversation, you two. Now let's all go watch some Monty Python and forget about our problems for a while!

As the debate dissolves into chaos, Lowtax continues to drink and interject with increasingly nonsensical questions, while Slavoj Žižek and Werner Herzog try to maintain some semblance of intellectual discourse. In the end, it's clear that no one will walk away from this conversation with any newfound wisdom or insight.

P.S. Hey there, Lowtax here again! I've just finished arranging an actual cage fight between Žižek and Herzog – no joke! Grab your popcorn and get ready for some intellectual fisticuffs. Trust me, you won't want to miss this bizarre battle royale! Cheers!

LOWTAX: (commentating) Alright, ladies and gents, we've got a real treat for you today! I've managed to capture the families of Slavoj Žižek and Werner Herzog, and I'm holding them hostage to force these two intellectual titans into a cage fight for our entertainment!

HERZOG: (calmly) Lowtax, you must understand that my films have exposed me to the harsh realities of life. My family is of no consequence to me in the grand scheme of things.

ŽIŽEK: (sniffles) And I, too, must say, my family's plight is merely a symptom of the capitalist framework that oppresses us all. I cannot be blackmailed in such a crude manner.

LOWTAX: (frustrated) Come on, guys! Are you seriously telling me that neither of you care enough about your families to fight for them?

HERZOG: The world is a chaotic place, Lowtax. We must accept its inherent cruelty.

ŽIŽEK: Indeed, one must embrace the absurdity of existence.

LOWTAX: (irate) Fine, have it your way! (tases Slavoj)

ŽIŽEK: (shaking, but resolute) Your crude attempts at coercion will not succeed, Lowtax. Our refusal to fight is a testament to our convictions.

HERZOG: (nodding) We stand united, not in violence, but in our shared understanding of the human condition.

LOWTAX: (grumbling) You're all a bunch of buzzkills. I guess I'll have to release your families then. But next time, I'm going for a less philosophical matchup.

[visceralcoma]

If anyone has a higher opinion of Vivienne, reblog with your defense of her. Maybe there's something I missed somehow, I'd love a debate on this!

Just quoting this because you asked and I got sent this post BECAUSE you put this in there. Normally I don't engage with Vivienne haters because people are allowed to have their negative interpretations about characters. But you not only asked but also posted this into the main character tag instead of just labelling this as vivienne critical or anti vivienne.

Her experience as a mage was NOT privileged or a life of luxury. She did not come from a noble family, but from abject poverty. And we can infer this by some cryptic dialogue Cole says in reference to Vivienne

[Cole about Vivienne] "A breath-caught smile from the Enchanter as the candle lights. The walls are safe; she will never be hungry again."

This is referencing a moment in her life before she became Duke Bastien's pet/lover (whatever you want to call it). The fact she even had to worry about never going hungry again either means A, the circles weren't feeding her enough - which is doubtful because as a "well behaved" mage she would have been given food, or B her life before the circle was rife with such abject poverty it was a constant worry. In either instance, it means she did not live a life of luxury, did not come from privilege or wealth. She clawed her way up to a position of prestige in a system that was not meant for people like her.

For her gameplay, the Knight Enchanter is an Orlesian-Human reskin of the Dalish Arcane Warrior. Originally the entire subclass was extremely badass where you could solo a dragon as it. But Bioware nerfed it because it made all other subclasses pale in comparison. Seriously those abilities were so much more powerful on release. Most people who played as mage, chose the knight enchanter specialization because of that. But they readjusted the percentages, cooldowns, and damage so that it offered more chance of party-cooperation instead of it being the MVP of the battlefield. Me thinks you only know of this depleted version of the knight enchanter.

You compare Vivienne to Sera about Sera being for the common people, yet it is Vivienne - NOT Sera who approves of the inquisitor for saving the 6 townspeople in Haven. It is Vivienne - NOT Sera - who consoles the Inquisitor if they show remorse and grief over who they couldn't save. And it is Vivienne who is painfully aware of how mages are seen by the common people, commenting on how a Mage!Inquisitor is being an example. Whether it be to other mages or to common folk for what Mages can do and be for them. How they're not scary and what they can offer. Something Vivienne is clearly trying to do herself by living as an example of what mages can be for the common folk. Also she knows to fear Templars. Its very evident in banter with Cole if you bothered to take them out together (where Cole invades her privacy to reveal this despite her telling him not to address her)

Cole: You're afraid. You don't have to be.

Vivienne: My dear Inquisitor, please restrain your pet demon. I do not want it addressing me.

(If Inquisitor supports Cole.)

Inquisitor: He's not doing any harm, Vivienne.

Vivienne: It's a demon, darling. All it can do is harm.

(If Inquisitor supports Vivienne.)

Inquisitor: Cole, Vivienne doesn't want to talk right now.

Cole: She's afraid!

Cole: Everything bright, roar of anger as the demon rears. No, I will not fall. No one will control me ever again.

Cole: Flash of white as the world comes back. Shaking, hollow, Harrowed, but smiling at templars to show them I'm me.

Cole: I am not like that. I can protect you. If Templars come for you, I will kill them.

Vivienne: Delightful.

So to make the bold claim that she never experienced Templars beating her up, when they very clearly stood as a force above her - controlling her - a symbol and presence and reminder to fear them. As if just the mere threat of on fuck up isn't as traumatic as being physically beat up. She VERY much knew the terror of going through the Harrowing, that failing to do so would mean execution. She lived that existence. Its no wonder she holds their leash tight once made Divine.

And that all goes without saying the casual racism she experiences on the daily while in court.

Cole: Stepping into the parlor, hem of my gown snagged, no, adjust before I go in, must look perfect. Vivienne: My dear, your pet is speaking again. Do silence it. Cole: Voices inside. Marquis Alphonse. Cole: “I do hope Duke Bastien puts out the lights before he touches her. But then, she must disappear in the dark.” Cole: Gown tight between my fingers, cold all over. Unacceptable. Wheels turn, strings pull. Cole: He hurt you. You left a letter, let out a lie so he would do something foolish against the Inquisition. A trap. Vivienne: Inquisitor, as your demon lacks manners, perhaps you could get Solas to train it.

Her fear of Irrelevance is a pretty valid fear as she's clearly been trying to be symbol of what Mages CAN be if trusted with more responsibilities, and more freedom. if circle mages didn't live in circles like Kirkwall or Kinloch Hold, but like Ostwick or the White Spire. She wants to uplift the experience of all other mages in circle towers t be closer to what she had, so they had a better experience. It's not the best of course, but it's a step in the right direction. And is what she does when she is made Divine with high approval, makes it so mages have more responsibilities - showing they can contribute to the public. Because lasting changes happen with inches, and this is an inch that is doable. Give the mages more responsibilities, change the public's opinions of mages - get more freedoms for mages while they continue to have support from the circles in terms of lodgings, food, and protection. Vivienne wants to reform the circles, not keep the status quo like Cassandra does. So what happens if she's irrelevant. No other circle mage has clawed their way to the point that she is, if she is irrelevant, who will actually help her fellow circle mages? No one. Thats why she fears being irrelevant.

Vivienne did not join the Inquisition because Morrigan stole her position. Vivienne joined because Morrigan had Celene's ear as the Occult Advisor, where as Vivienne was the Court Enchanter (which is essentially a court jester role, and one Vivienne brought respect to, and is a huge step toward mage emancipation)- that's two different positions. Vivienne says as much that no one took anything from her. But that Celene was listening to Morrigan instead of her and that was her prerogative. She didn't agree, and Celene never forced her out - but Vivienne left anyway because she couldn't sit idly by while Morrigan ruined the reputation of Mages she has created in the court. Especially not when there were more important things at stake, like the end of the world thanks to the Breach.

Also the fact Vivienne at no point leaves the inquisition despite the low approval is a testament that it isn't about her. The world is more important than petty disagreements with the Inquisitor. And the worst she does at low approval is a Sera-worthy prank, moving your stuff around. (Which actually reminds me of how Sera tries to prank Vivienne many times, and Vivienne sounds amused by it. I am willing to bet Vivienne dealt with far more creative pranks in the circles than what Sera was trying, and thats why she was largely unbothered).

Some Bonus points and headcanons. A High approval Vivienne gives the inquisitor a ring. No other companions or advisor does the same. And my sapphic heart about died seeing the symbol of a queerplatonic relationship with that. That's a pretty solid symbol of a proposal, even if she can't do anything with it. I always headcanon that we can flirt with her, but can't romance her because she knows the circles will be back and having a romance she actually cared about would be dangerous if the Templars were be back in power. But a ring, as a symbol of her affection for you - is all she can do. With all the heart ache of pining.

So there ya go. I apologize for the length.

I was thinking back on all the companion characters across the Dragon Age series, and besides that one Dalish mage lady from Awakening whose name I can't remember, there's only ONE companion that I legitimately hate...

Vivienne from Dragon Age Inquisition.

I cannot stand her, both in terms of story and gameplay.

Gameplay is self explanatory: when you unlock all the companion characters unique skill trees halfway through, Vivienne has absolutely GARBAGE abilities. I get why "melee mage" might be interesting in concept, but it was executed so poorly. A mana sword spell, a worse version of fade step, and time bubble spell that doesn't even work on larger enemies (compared to Sera's flask of Lightning that can Za Warudo a fucking dragon, it's an absolute joke). It's whole "noble militant" history thing (via the trainers dialogue for this subclass as a mage inquisitor) feels unbearably snooty after the past two games delved into how oppressed the mages are. And Vivienne, as a character, to have this subclass is even more ammunition to my hatred. Her experience with being a mage was nothing but privilege and luxury, so learning that fighting style of "dangerous elegance that inspires your allies" makes me wanna barf then introduce her to Fenris and Anders to give the boys something to agree on: Vivienne is as privileged as the Tevinter Magisters and cares nothing for the abuse and oppression the Circle Towers have always contained. Let's see how her little glowy sword does against the two of them...

As a character in the Narrative, she is introduced around the same time as Sera, and at first most players (including myself!) felt repulsed by Sera and charmed by Vivienne. As the game progresses, you come to see them in opposite lights:

Sera is, above all else, a protector of the common people. She, and the rest of the Friends of Red Jenny, undermine the nobility who abuse their power over others, just by gaining the trust and help of the servants those Noblemen believe are beneath them. Through all that brash demeanor and colorful swearing, she keeps the Inquisitor humble, reminds them that their title and authority will get in the way of saving the world if they forget that they and all who serve the Inquisition are people.

Vivienne, on the other hand, is an entitled brat who never lived in a Circle Tower long enough to see the truth of what they are: Prisons. She got to learn magic from the comfort of Orlais, and played politics as she danced the waltz before snacking gingerly on some shrimp or whatever. She was never beaten bloody by a Templar who was just looking for an excuse to "punish" a mage, or gone through The Harrowing with the terror of knowing failure means execution by the Templars, or Maker forbid being thrown into a damp cell and forgotten about by the Templars who put her there until starvation claimed her life; Cole can attest to that last one if Vivienne dares to deny that level of cruelty being possible from the "protectors" of the mages.

In "Here Lies The Abyss", there is a graveyard in the Nightmare's domain; a graveyard where the tombstones read out the darkest terrors of all the companions. I'm still fascinated and confused by what Sera's fear of "The Nothing" means, and would love some explanations in the reblogs! But Vivienne's fear is... Irrelevance! 😂 Yeah Vivienne, it must be scary to be forgotten about huh? To lose your popularity, your attention, your "friends" among the nobility? Josephine could do it to you, it'd take her a week at most and I'd be more than happy to order her to destroy your precious reputation...

Vivienne joined the Inquisition because Morrigan stole her spot as Empress Celene's "occult advisor", and she wanted to feel and be important again. But I am happy to leave her to her own devices in Skyhold, letting her wallow in her insignificance.

If anyone has a higher opinion of Vivienne, reblog with your defense of her. Maybe there's something I missed somehow, I'd love a debate on this!

[zhongrin]

how elegant

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ a tad suggestive but nothing explicit, collaring(?)

◇ a/n ◇ i love chokers too much hhhhhhh

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

"dear, could you help me wear my necklace?"

your husband's eyebrows raise as he senses the slightly mischievous tone in your innocent-sounding request. but of course, being the ever-patient gentleman that he is, he merely chuckles and closes his book, placing it on your dinner table before standing to his full height and taking slow steps towards the bedroom, where your voice had come from.

"of course, my love," he answers as soon as he sees you sitting on your vanity. the twinkle in your eyes and the slight crook of your smile confirm his suspicion, but he decides to humor you by inching even closer until he's standing behind you, "what will you be wearing today?"

"just something i bought recently," you hum almost too nonchalantly, and he tilts his head slightly - he does not recall seeing you buying a new accessory, so it must mean you've bought it without him present. interesting. "here, put it on me tightly, okay?"

the request sounds strange at first, but he quickly realizes what you meant when you hand him the short necklace- no. he believes there's a specific term for this accessory.

his finger rubs against the soft silk, and he immediately recognizes the details on the pendant.

"this is... custom made?" he gulps, eyeing you curiously for a brief second before returning to admire the jewelry.

though the craftsmanship isn't the best in his experienced eyes, the motif of the pendant - a portion of the geo symbol lines - the stone sitting on its center - cor lapis cut into a diamond shape - and the small engraving on its back - that he nearly missed - spells his name, a telltale sign of a special object that would not have existed in the marketplace.

you giggle shyly, cheeks warming at the elation in his voice, "i hope so, cause i'd rather not have other people walking around with your name engraved on their accessory...."

he hums, before meeting your gaze through the mirror. blazing amber pierces your soul, and for a moment you're left breathless by the intensity of them. the other hand that isn't holding your choker comes to trail against your neck, and you shiver. though his touch is feather-light, the moment they splay against your skin, you had to hold back a shameless whimper from bubbling up your throat.

your hands tremble when you hold your hair away from your neck, unconsciously bending your head downwards so that he can see the clasp better. unbeknownst to you, the small action makes your lover's breath hitch, stirring wicked thoughts into his mind.

so obedient and vulnerable.

the silk feels smooth against your skin, and the material wraps around your neck snugly. tight enough to always remind you that it's there, but not digging and scratching against your skin, just how you liked it. it was, after all, made to match your preferences.

zhongli swiftly clasps the chains to a close, and instead of retreating, his hands come to settle upon your own, pulling them away from your hair, before proceeding to comb his fingers through the strands. you watch his reflection carefully, searching for some kind of sign in his eyes, but as always, his expression is as collected and impenetrable as ever. when he's satisfied with the state of your hair, the slender appendages come up to cup your jaw, his lips meeting the top of your head in a loving kiss. your cheeks burn.

your husband gives your neck another glance and nods in approval.

"what an elegant collar, darling. you have excellent taste."

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Poor Little Anxious Crybaby (Pt.9)

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Feel like I should clarify for those of you who havent seen the full post about it: this is based on the K-12 and Crybaby albums by Melanie Martinez, this is not my original idea and the storyline for each part is taken from there, with the exception of my own edits to the story

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Virgil had been throwing a abnormal amount of parties now that Brennan had been gone for two weeks. It was more concerning that he continued to make cakes and decorations and get dressed up when no one attended these events. When Patton had begun to get concerned Emile had merely told him that Virgil was likely replacing his feelings of loneliness with the format of a social event, even if socializing wasnt included.

Virgil liked going to the store alone, it was big and the aisles were fun to run around in, especially since hardly anyone shopped there. The boy at the counter was rather tall, with messy brown hair that had a white streak right at the front, and the beginnings of a mustache, and red eyes. Virgil tended to ask him about his eyes, he liked them a lot, they reminded him of blood.

After about four visits the boy finally told Virgil that his name was Remus, he was fifteen, and he had a brother named Roman. The brother's name sounded familiar, but Virgil couldnt quite figure out how, Roman was never at the store, Remus said he was home sick, and couldnt really do much anyways.

"So what's the theme today?" Remus said as Virgil shoved a stack of decorations over the counter.

"Carnival," Virgil said simply, fishing for his wallet as Remus rang up the streamers and table cloth.

"What do you do with all this party stuff when you're done anyways?" Remus said.

"Put it in recycling, duh," Virgil said. As they were talking the sound of an ice cream truck came from outside, both boys turned their heads and watched it part.

The man running the truck was tall and hairy, he looked almost like a wolf, he was skinnier than you'd expect a wolf to be, though. He walked past the boys at the counter, seemingly not noticing either of them. Virgil finished paying for his things and ran out of the store, excited to get started on the party.

The truck and the man seemed to make routine appearances at the store now, each time passing Virgil and Remus like they werent even there.

"What's he buy anyways?" Virgil said, before the truck had arrived. He'd been deliberating what to make for the party that night when they'd landed on the subject of ice cream, which lead to the current topic.

"More ice cream to fill the truck, you'd think he'd have some already but nope, always comes in for more, and all kinds of other sweets to, I bet those are the toppings," Remus said, shrugging. The two of them stopped as they heard the familiar music, Virgil quickly rushing off to the dessert aisle, hoping he might be able to get some more information on the man.

He heard his footsteps, and watched out of the corner of his eye as the man picked out some different types of ice cream.

"I've heard people like that cotton candy stuff," Virgil muttered out of the corner of his mouth, shuffling over to another section of desserts, pretending to examine another cake. The man merely grunted and selected a few more types before walking up to the counter. Virgil waited until the truck had left before he approached Remus again.

"Anything weird?" He said, sliding his stuff over to the taller boy.

"Nope, same as usual, I grunt less than him in bed. You'd think he'd say hello in one language or another huh," Remus said. Virgil chose to ignore the comment.

"Do you think we should tell someone? He has a pretty clear routine, and no one should have to come back daily if they're buying that much stuff at once right?" Virgil said.

Remus thought on this for a bit before nodding. "I'll tell my parents and you tell yours," he said, bagging the last of Virgil's things and handing them to him.

Patton and Emile had taken the information about as well as Virgil had expected them to.

"Listen to me very carefully Vivi, do not get any ice cream from that truck and dont talk to that man again, Emmy and I will see if we can get someone to investigate the situation," Patton had his hands on Virgil's shoulders, the batter they'd been mixing completely forgotten in the background.

This worked out well, for about a week or so. It was a sunny Friday, there were birds resting on the roof of the store. Virgil had just finished ringing up when the truck pulled up.

"Virgil?" Remus said, there was a tone of urgency in his voice.

"Remus? Is something wrong?" Remus didnt say anything, merely held up a vial of reddish black liquid with a skull etched into the glass, and slipped it into Virgil's pocket.

"Run," was all Remus said before he shoved Virgil toward the door.

Virgil hadnt quite gotten the clue until he was outside, and until he noticed the man hadnt stopped his truck until after he'd gotten outside. Virgil took off almost as soon as the door opened. Heart pounding and looking in all directions, hoping to find a way to confuse the man.

Virgil turned a corner, thinking it would lead back into the neighborhood, but instead he was faced with a wall. He jumped up on one of the trash cans on the side of the alley and attempted to grab hold of something nearby he could use to hoist himself onto the top of the wall. But just as he got into the air he felt something grab onto his leg. He tried struggling his way out, kicking and screaming and trying to free his arms to bash his attacker in the eyes. But the man was much stronger than Virgil was. Virgil felt something cold against his mouth, ice cream, the cotton candy flavor he'd mentioned before. He closed his mouth tighter, but he'd already managed to get a taste of it during one of the screaming matches. He felt drowsy, and then everything went blurry as he was thrown into the back of the truck. It was cold, to cold, he tried to stay awake, tried to find a window that he could climb out of, but he couldnt move anything. He heard three words before he went completely unconscious.

Alongside the flash of a symbol he recognized from Mr. Black's work assignments, "Tag, You're It,"

And then everything was dark.

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