#just so glad to have this fic DONE

[splickedylit]

Can't believe I thought I was almost ready to start posting this GamKar winter soldier pastiche like two years ago on halloween it's grown by several hundred pages and 100,000+ words since then. Current count is 325 pages, 167,000 words, 15 chapters. fukkin UNIT of a fic

EDIT for my own personal satisfaction:

10/25: 167,000

10/29: 174,700

10/31: 180,460

11/7: 185,775

11/18: 189,500

[onefey]

howdy! today is the two year anniversary of my au! to celebrate, here's various Stuff and Things, plus a design for the phantom cutlass :)

[that-was-anticlimactic]

see a world so beautiful and strange (spinning off somewhere)

“Why? Why are you suppressing?”

“Because I can't tic,” Alya whispered, fingernails digging into the skin on her arm. “I know Tourette’s isn’t exactly uncommon, but it’s part of my identity as Alya Césaire. It can’t be a part of Rena Rouge, too. Someone could figure out who I am and then…”

And then she’d have to give up the coolest thing that’s ever happened to her, give up living her dreams.

[or, alya is suppresses as rena rogue in order to protect her identity, but neither ladybug nor trixx will let her hurt herself like that]

🦊2,345 words | alya-centric, alya & ladybug friendship🦊

happy tourette's awareness month!!!

[zarnzarn]

heart by the fingers final chapter coming out tomorrowwwww

(i was gonna put this in the tags before I added too many- but here's my genuine request to give this fic a chance! lemme convince u ;) hehe)

[lit-in-thy-heart]

been trying out a new writing technique recently and it's called chilling tf out and reminding myself that fic is written for fun.

[zara-renata]

i have thoughts about your most recent fic and tumblr’s comment character limit has brought me to your ask box again 🙈

omgggg it’s so good to know sylus’s POV during that wine night!! and i don’t know why and how, but sylus’s thoughts about mc here, esp how he feels about her selfless tendencies (to her detriment), makes me feel vulnerable and seen. when i read reader-insert fics, i tend to imagine a separate character for mc even though it’s technically supposed to be me in my head. perhaps the character i made up resembles me (but better lmao), but different enough that she’s like an individual on her own. but when i read this fic, it’s like sylus was talking about me, as in the real me, which made me emotional. it could be that the way mc handles herself poorly in here resonates with me due to some irl stuff, but honestly it’s primarily how good you write about a character’s emotions and thoughts. it’s like the words reached across my screen and tugged at my heart. you’re such a great writer when it comes to expressing a character’s innermost thoughts. it’s like i’ve been placed inside a character’s mind to bare witness their raw self.

again, i love how your sylus x mc dynamics, at least for this series, revolve around an mc oblivious to how much sylus cares about her. it seems she doesn’t even believe she’s deserving of such affection, nor is she fitting to be the object of such primal desires. in a way, she’s kind of self-sabotaging in the sense that she thinks she doesn’t deserve kindness, help, and affection. she’s genuinely fine with taking the brunt of the pain and suffering – and not even in the hero, martyr kind of way. it seems it’s how she’s always been, such behavioral tendencies of hers seem to be as normal as the sky is blue, which is sad and concerning because she deserves so much. i’m honestly excited to see sylus try to knock down her hardened walls and have her realize how deserving she is of so many things. i hope she realizes she can relax, rest, take it easy, and feel safe. especially with him.

i actually laughed out loud about how unhinged sylus can be about his sexual desires for her. like the man is blue-balled to heck, but he isn’t the kind to succumb to his base urges. he really respects and loves mc. i think i would even say he reveres her, given the fan theories around their past. it’s like his urges are just something that come with his intense adoration and care for mc, which is so so admirable and attractive.

maybe i’m just a tad sensitive today, but i completely zeroed in on the emotional aspects of this fic – quite a difference as to how i salivated over your previous fic in your ask box LMAO. coincidence is such a funny thing because i feel like i really needed to read this fic today. i feel much better and more ready to face the day. this has been such a good read, and i humbly offer my apologies for yapping at your ask box yet again 🧎‍♀️🫣

First off, you never have to apologize for sending me your thoughts. I'm so happy every time I receive an ask, it's always an unexpected surprise. And your asks are always really thoughtful and fun to read! I wasn't just patronizing you when I said last time that it was really fun to receive such a spicy ask about the NSFW aspects of Sylus's character and dynamic with mc in these stories. A huge part of his appeal is his physicality and how he shows his affection through actions. Hot, hot, actions.

To be honest, this message from you is really reassuring, because I've noticed that a lot of the fanfic that gets a lot of traction in (any) fandom is of the NSFW variety (which, duh, I totally understand and appreciate and consume happily), and I worry that because I'm not currently focusing purely on that aspect of Sylus that people will be less interested in reading what I'm sharing, especially the installments that are so mc POV heavy. So to hear that you also like being in this mc's head, and can relate to this mc, that how I have Sylus respond to this mc's issues and hangups and trauma brings you comfort, is amazing for me as a wannabe writer. Although I also want to give you a hug (with your consent of course) if you can really relate to this mc because no one should ever have to feel what you so accurately point out about what this mc feels: that whatever pain you're experiencing is normal, and expected, and you can hardly imagine that someone would be so dedicated to helping relieve it for and with you. Because everyone deserves to feel cherished and demand more than the bare minimum from the world and the people in their life. I'm hoping that I can keep writing this story as an exploration of Sylus teaching mc that, and that you continue to derive comfort from it. Because in the end, fanfic can serve many purposes. And just like it can be a vehicle for exploring incredibly dark and disturbing and cathartic themes using our favorite characters, I think it can also be the ultimate comfort food, and sometimes you should just be able to feel fucking good reading it. I'm so happy to hear that this part did that for you. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts.

[nina-ya]

having two jobs sometimes makes me forget to take care of myself and I think its nice that I have writing and friends on here to turn to when things get particularly stressful

[tethered-heartstrings]

after my first fic and almost a year of writer's block, i didn't think i would write anything else and that i'd only have the one fic, but since i started writing/posting again almost a year ago, i've written 11 fics totaling 120k which is wild to me

[volivolition]

has anyone considered the fact that im the most tired boy in the world.

[vanmarkus]

Fuck It Friday ☔️

I was tagged by the lovely @daffi-990 thank you✨

Okay, so I hit a little bit a of a snag with the mudslide fic because I keep adding stuff to the second half of the story, but I haven't actually outlined them yet, so my notes are a bit of a mess right now. However I finally finished the most difficult part of the whole fic and also passed 31k, so I thought I give you some more of Eddie's POV, now with a side of Bosko hehe

This bit is not actually, but chronologically comes after this snippet

(Also did I accidentally make faith the main motif of this fic? Who's to say... but yes, I absolutely did.)

“So you're really not gonna tell me what's going on with you and Buckley?” Bosko sidled up to him, pulling an exasperated grunt out of Eddie. “There's nothing going on.” He hissed as quietly as he could while still staying menacing enough to get her to drop it. It didn't work. “Sure,” Bosko snorted, “that's why you were all huddling and cuddling before coming to the tent.” “It's not– It's not like that.” Eddie closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation, let alone having it with Lena Bosko of all people. “Buck is just… I don't know, he says he's got a bad feeling.” “Hah, ‘cause that's new.” “That's what I told him!” Eddie spread his arms before sagging his shoulders again. “But I don't think it was working. I've got no idea what's gotten into him…” “Who knows, he seemed pretty spooked. Maybe he just wanted you to comfort him.” She shrugged as they reached the truck assigned to their team. “Buckley looks like the typa’ guy who’d be into the whole passionate hugging before heading off to battle and shit.” “Funny.” Eddie levelled her with a dry look as he climbed into the rig. “And this is not a battle.” “No? ‘Cause it kinda looks like we have a hell of a fight ahead of us.” Bosko’s voice was serious now as her eyes scouted over the section of the road where they were headed. “Yeah.” Eddie sighed in agreement as he followed her gaze. He hated to admit it, but Buck’s sense of doom might've been contagious.

💛 some no pressure tags: @forthewolves @eddiediaztho @jesuisici33 @callaplums @ladydorian05 @disasterbuckdiaz

[wooahaes]

Hiii!! I just wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling? Are you doing ok? I hope you are taking care of yourself and able to enjoy the holiday as much as you can. Thinking of you ❤️

hii lovely

life has kinda quieted down some? which is good and things are going okay when im not frustrated with the rest of my family (feels like im the only one whos rly... being a caretaker at all...) but im just kinda taking it one day at a time rn

ty for checking in <3 i hope u get to spend the holiday happily as well <3

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan makes a request of Josephine.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,093. Rating: all audiences, except for a few swears.)

Chapter 11: Rumour Mill

Wooing the Commander, actually, was the second most difficult task in all of Thedas.

The first, it seemed, was getting up before the other Ladies.

Trevelyan did not even wait for her ladies’ maids to arrive that morning—though she didn’t particularly feel like seeing the little rats, anyway. She was up and ready and out of the door before her continued existence could even occur to them.

Two quick glances down the hall assured her that the other Ladies were not yet awake, lurking in some corner to pounce on her with conversation. Though she liked them well enough, Trevelyan needed privacy for her purpose.

Rising with the sun had been the only way she could think to guarantee it. As she descended into the main hall, the evidence of this hour was laid before her. Guards changed over, night shift to day. Serving staff scurried about, preparing for the new morning. The air was filled with the subdued bustle of a castle blinking open its bleary eyes.

Trevelyan hurried through, to Lady Montilyet’s parlour. This was why she’d required such prematurity. Had she left it any later, there wouldn’t be a moment alone—the parlour would be filled with the scent of tea and the silly gossip of those sweet Ladies.

But she needed that moment alone. A moment alone with Lady Montilyet herself.

“Is she awake?” Trevelyan asked of the guard by the door. They nodded, she knocked.

“Come in!” called Montilyet.

Trevelyan entered, to find the Ambassador already at her desk, sifting through a stack of papers intimidating in height.

And yet, she bore no sign of weariness—no hint of a late night or an early morning. Her hair was perfectly in place, her clothing crisp and carefully contoured. Lady Montilyet fluttered bright, and somewhat surprised, eyes at Trevelyan.

“Your Ladyship!” she said, standing. “I had not expected to see you so early. Dagna must be working you hard!”

Trevelyan laughed—shakily—and made her way further into the room. “No, no, that’s not why I’m here.” She fumbled with her fingers for a moment, then added: “I wished to speak to you.”

With a wave of her hand, Lady Montilyet invited Trevelyan to take a seat (which was done with utmost unease and discomfort), and then took one herself. “What is it you require, your Ladyship?”

“Well, um, I was wondering if I could perhaps see the Commander again.”

Lady Montilyet stared at her. Trevelyan had thought she might.

After all, there had been plenty of time to theorise upon what Montilyet’s reaction would be whilst waiting for sunrise—though only after Trevelyan had finished her ample rumination regarding whether or not she ought to even acquiesce to her parents’ wishes, and participate in the contest once more.

Her mind had rocked back and forth on the subject for some hours. Really, what could they do to her here? she had argued to herself.

It’s not here that matters, she’d answered, it’s back home.

She at least had to put on effort. Make it seem like she was trying, really, to get the Commander’s attention. So long as her ladies’ maids saw her try, her parents would know she had, and their hunger for her suffering would be sated.

“I thought you had ‘very little interest’ in the Commander?” Lady Montilyet murmured.

Trevelyan suspected she might point out that little tidbit. “Yes, but... I thought I might try again.”

Montilyet placed her elbows onto the desk, and clasped her hands. “May I ask why?”

“Well, the other Ladies have been rather complimentary about him,” Trevelyan lied, “and he seemed pleasant when we spoke the day before last.”

“You spoke the day before last?”

There was a genuineness to this question that Lady Montilyet’s others had lacked. As if she was… surprised? Had the Commander not told her?

“Yes,” Trevelyan admitted. “He didn’t mention?”

“He said that he had seen you, but not that you had spoken. I assumed it had been from afar.”

Oh. “He visited the Undercroft—to ask some things about our research.”

This appeared to satisfy Lady Montilyet’s curiosity well enough. “Ah,” she said, “that is to be expected, given the Arcanist’s domain.”

Trevelyan made a noise of agreement, and smiled to conceal the thoughts swirling in her mind. She had expected the Commander would simply tell Montilyet the contents of their conversation—that she was, indeed, one of the missing Ostwick delegation. But if he hadn’t even mentioned that they spoke?

“Did he… not say anything of our encounter at all?” she asked. It was a dangerous question, but she would not settle until sheknew.

Montilyet’s eyebrow cocked. “Should he have? Did something occur?”

“No, no!” Trevelyan hurried to say. “I simply… find it curious that he has not said a word.”

Lady Montilyet’s expression did not change. “Very well.”

And it appeared that was all the answer Trevelyan would get. Though, from the plainest interpretation of it, she surmised that the Commander had obeyed her wishes entirely. She had told him not to speak of it, and speak of it he had not.

That, or Lady Montilyet had a face of stone—and that was a strong possibility. The woman reminded Trevelyan of the best Wicked Grace players Ostwick Circle had. Sitting across from them was like trying to read a novel in a language one didn’t know: even if you could manage to translate the words, you’d likely lose the meaning along the way.

“I do wonder,” said Montilyet, “why this conversation between you caused such a change of heart now, Lady Trevelyan, and not the day on which you had it?”

She could almost see Lady Montilyet moving the cards around in her hand.

“I had been contemplating it this last evening.”

Montilyet tipped her head. “I do wonder, perhaps, if all this had anything to do with the letter you received yesterday?”

Cards on the table. A very good hand.

Trevelyan smiled. “A letter?”

Feigning innocence was hardly going to win her this one, but it was the only move she could think to make. The rest of her mind was at work, theorising how Lady Montilyet might have discovered it. It couldn’t have been Lady Samient, surely?

But Montilyet said:

“Oh? Did the runner I sent not deliver yours?”

Fuck.

Not Samient, then. Lady Montilyet had known of the letter’s existence before even Trevelyan had. And if she had seen the envelope, a diplomat such as she would have the ability to identify the seal, and therefore the sender.

Trevelyan relented. “Yes, that letter. I received it.”

“Was it from Bann or Lady Trevelyan?”

Sighing, Trevelyan told her, “The latter.”

Seeing her opponent had folded, Lady Montilyet withdrew her hands from the desk, and relaxed in her chair. “So,” she said, “are you able to discuss its contents?”

“You don’t already know them, your Ladyship?”

Lady Montilyet chuckled. “I know plenty about other people, Lady Trevelyan—but I do not resort to tampering. Usually… it is just observation.”

Definitely not Samient, then. Trevelyan had been rather lucky in her selection of who to trust.

“My mother simply reminded me of my reason for being here, given that I had become… distracted. She wishes me to seize the opportunity provided.” Trevelyan added: “Oh, and she wished me to thank you for your hospitality.”

That last comment skirted by Lady Montilyet’s notice, in the face of something more pressing: “She would like you to resume seeing the Commander?”

“In essence.”

Montilyet frowned. It didn’t look right on such a pretty face. “But do you want to, Lady Trevelyan?”

Maker, no. But Trevelyan shrugged, and said, “It cannot hurt.”

“Lady Trevelyan. I cannot allow you to do something you do not want to do.” She fixed her with a firm stare, but not a cold one. “And more to that—the Commander would not wish you to, either.”

“I am not opposed to it, Lady Montilyet. I would do it.”

“We do not have to. I can write to them and tell them that—”

How to make her understand? “You know, Missy and Cara are such wonderful chaperones,” Trevelyan interrupted, “and they are ever so loyal to the family.”

Montilyet stopped herself. She took a moment, and a slow breath. “I see.”

“So do they.”

Lady Montilyet was a woman capable of talking to anything and anyone—and yet, at this moment, she fell silent. Trevelyan could rightly tell why. A diplomat such as she should hardly wish to be defeated by this conundrum. There had to be something.

But there was nothing. At the very least, Trevelyan smiled to see the effort. She put a hand on the desk to bring Montilyet round, and told her softly, “It’s all right. Truly. I was not lying when I said the Commander had been pleasant, and that I was not opposed. I will see him again. Contentedly.”

It was Montilyet’s turn to relent, though the half-suppressed grimace on her face lingered. “Very well. I am afraid I cannot disturb the Commander’s schedule today, for I had given over your time with him for his work, and he is already to see Lady Samient. But, I may find time for you tomorrow.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

“If you change your mind…”

Trevelyan stood. “I would inform you.”

“Thank you.” Lady Montilyet rose herself. “Very well, then. I will send word once I have a time and place for your next meeting.”

Trevelyan curtsied. “I look forward to hearing of it,” she lied.

At least this time, Lady Montilyet did not call her on it. She gave instead a slim smile, and curtsied back. Grim work done, Trevelyan turned, and left.

***

It was of note that Lady Montilyet’s parlour did not exit out into the Great Hall itself, but a small landing. Either side, a set of stairs—one ascending, to the private quarters of the Inquisition’s finest, and one descending, to the audible hubbub of the kitchens.

Between these two worlds, Trevelyan gave herself a moment. She let Montilyet’s door shut behind her, left the other safely closed—and breathed.

At least Montilyet understood. Though the woman could’ve written the playbook on nobility and its fascination with prosperous, unhappy marriage, it seemed she did not entirely agree with its tenets. She had not denied Trevelyan her reluctance. She had cooperated. That was all Trevelyan required.

Her parents wished her to see the Commander, and she would. Even if she did not honestly try to woo him, she could at least maintain the appearance of effort. And then, when she inevitably failed to secure his proposal, she’d at least have an alibi. It wasn’t her fault if he was uninterested.

The sudden tinkling of a crockery-filled tray served as a warning that a scullion was ascending the stairs, and that Trevelyan’s momentary respite was over. She quickly plastered on an expression of absolute inconsequence, and made her escape into the Great Hall.

She thought of returning to her room, since there would be little to do for an hour or so, but decided against it. This decision was in no way influenced by her lack of desire to see her ladies’ maids, though she did very much consider them conniving shits and would rather have nothing to do with them.

Instead, Trevelyan made her way to the next door along—the garden, which she thought might look quite nice so soon after sunrise.

She wasn’t wrong. The pale, yawning light of the still-climbing sun cast a warm glow, and plants caught in its rays sparkled with the dewdrops that had accumulated in the cold of the night. Trevelyan pulled her jacket a little tighter around herself, and began to wander through.

“Good morning, Lady Trevelyan.”

Maker’s bloody breath. Truly, truly an impossible task, to rise before a single one of the other Ladies. For, if Trevelyan was not mistaken, she had just been greeted by the voice of Baroness Touledy.

She looked to the bench the call had come from, sheltered beneath the garden arcade. Sure enough, sat elegantly upon the stone, one hand resting on a cane that inevitably matched her outfit, was the Baroness.

Trevelyan accepted defeat, and wandered over to her.

“Good morning, your Ladyship,” she said. “You’re awake early.”

The Baroness Touledy smiled. “I never slept.”

Trevelyan ought to have guessed as much; she thought the Baroness’ outfit was quite recently familiar. “Oh?”

“I had plenty to do. I thought I might stop in the garden and see the sunrise before I finally retire.”

Trevelyan smiled and nodded along and privately wondered if the things that the Baroness had to do were anything related to those two mysterious letters that had arrived for her. She’d already assumed that they were the reason they’d barely seen the Baroness at all yesterday—even her appearance at dinner was muted and brief.

“What a lovely way to spend the early hours,” Trevelyan said, instead of all that.

“Yes. Would you be so kind as to help me bring my night to a close?” the Baroness asked, pushing herself to her feet. She grunted with the effort, but stood tall regardless. “Let us walk.”

“Of course.”

Trevelyan fell in step with the Baroness, to trail the path under the arcade. With the castle still waking, its ambience kept at a low hum, the loudest thing around them was the rhythmic tap of Touledy’s cane upon the cobblestone.

“Since you know why I am awake so early,” the Baroness said, “may I ask the same of you?”

There was little point in concealing her purpose. It was done, and like all things, the Ladies would discover it sooner or later. “I went to see Lady Montilyet, to rejoin our contest.”

The Baroness’ eyebrows flew upwards, and she stared at Trevelyan. “I see.”

“I had gotten carried away, and forgot my duty to my parents. I shouldn’t have forgone it in the first place.”

“Oh, worry not, your Ladyship. I certainly would not assume that you chose to participate again of your own accord.”

The lilt of venom in the Baroness’ voice both intrigued and frightened Trevelyan. It was a hint of a side she suspected the Baroness possessed, but not one she was ever willing to see. However, in this case, she likely knew the cause.

“Would the reason perhaps be the same as to why you have not spoken of your meeting with the Commander?” Trevelyan asked.

For it was true, the Baroness had barely talked of it. She had deflected everyone’s (mainly Erridge’s) questions with the same flat ‘fine’ responses Trevelyan herself had relied on. And then she had avoided them all yesterday, to make further inquiry impossible.

“Perhaps,” Touledy replied. “I did not wish to talk much of it in front of Erridge; her Ladyship is quite… invested in the Commander’s goodness. However, I cannot report the same success that Lady Samient had. Indeed, I found him quite… unimpressive.”

At least the feeling between she and the Commander was mutual.

“I am the same,” Trevelyan admitted. “And I have spent the last two days attempting to reach some explanation for how Lady Samient had such a pleasant time.”

“Oh, I can think of one explanation.”

“So can I—but I shouldn’t like to.”

Touledy offered a sympathetic look. “I know Orlesian nobility. Unfortunately. Fabrication is a part of their arsenal.”

And there it was. Touledy believed that Samient had lied too. But now, the question remained: why?

“It’s so contradictory to what else I have seen of her,” Trevelyan mused, attempting to sound as general as possible, to reveal nothing of her moment with Lady Samient over the letters. “She seems perfectly amiable, and rather honest, on all other accounts.”

Baroness Touledy sighed. “I would simply tell you that is the way of the Orlesian court—to appear one way and act another… but I too, am confused. This is not like the Lady Samient I have known.”

Their walk halted, as they found themselves a neat little corner, where no passing maids or patrolling soldiers might hear.

“The Lady Samient I have known,” Baroness Touledy whispered, “is brutally honest. She wields this as a weapon. I do not know why she would blunt her blade now. All I know is this: contradiction is the domain of someone with something to hide.”

Trevelyan found herself quite agreeing. She wondered, perhaps, if Samient’s brief moment of vulnerability revealed something of what she was hiding. Something about mages and Circles, something about freedom?

But Samient was not the only contradiction Trevelyan had encountered. Despite finding her unimpressive, despite struggling to remember her name, despite ignoring her and all the other Ladies—the Commander had been so... gentle, the other day. What was he hiding?

Trevelyan stowed the thought, something to rattle around in the back of her mind later, when she became bored copying out runes. She asked Touledy, “Have you any idea what her Ladyship might be concealing?”

Touledy leant in close. “Have you seen her ears?”

Though, as a general rule, it was not a feature Trevelyan tended to pay much attention to, she could not remember having seen Lady Samient’s ears. In fact, “I think the only time was when she first entered—but her hair covered them almost immediately.”

“Such gossip as I am about to disclose is distasteful, but it may be pertinent,” Touledy told her, wary of her own words. “The late Duchess Samient left home a year before the Lady Samient’s birth. The Duke claimed she had been sent away for her health. But... there are rumours that the Duchess left of her own accord, with one of their servants—and returned only to bear a child.”

Illegitimate and elven; that was what the Baroness implied. In the throngs of Orlesian nobility, it would certainly be something to hide.

But this was Skyhold. And even if it were true, Trevelyan could not see how one led to the other. What good was lying about finding the Commander pleasant, to hide one’s heritage?

“I’m afraid I don’t quite see the pertinence,” Trevelyan admitted.

“I confess, neither do I,” Touledy replied, “but I feel it has something to do with it.”

“Why?”

“Why else would she take such efforts to conceal her ears?”

“Perhaps she knows of the rumours,” Trevelyan suggested, “and enjoys toying with those who engage in them.”

The Baroness laughed. “Yes,” she said, “now that sounds like the Lady Samient I know.”

[prentissluvr]

AUR EM GEEEEE bro i just finished the first draft of my boy only breaks his favorite toys and it definitely needs editing BUT OH MY GODDDDD the angst is angsting. really hard.

[hailsatanacab]

Heyyy just read through CETBWA and loved it all over again! No rush but any word on when there might be a chapter 21? 👀

hey!! thanks, i'm very glad you enjoyed it and continue to enjoy it, that makes me really happy ☺️

chap 21 is happening, just very slowly. i'm trying to focus on getting a fic out for the @/dpxdcbigbang before i get back into cetbwa properly, but i've been dabbling here and there. honestly probably won't happen until september tho lol sorry

[dandelion-wings]

if it has "orders" that vague, would showing obvious enough dismay that Jean doesn't accept his agreement to them be "refusing"? In a situation where he is aware that having those tells caused him to get out of the order

I envision that as part of the ramping-up: the magic, as it grows out of control, starts actively reacting to anything Kaeya does to evade Jean's orders. Enforcing less and less explicit orders over time comes hand-in-hand with shutting down each new way Kaeya finds to work around them.

In fact, the cause-and-effect might even be the other way around! I'm tempted towards the notion that aside from the issue of a Vision's power being way more than the spell needs (and the Pyro-on-Cryo complications), the fact that a Vision responds to the intentions of their bearer is also playing into this. At the time Diluc does this magic he is still reeling from the revelation that Kaeya was deceiving him for all those years, and afraid on some level that he's going to somehow be able to wriggle out of this safeguard by fooling Jean as well. He does not want Kaeya to find any loopholes! And if I go with that, then the spell, turned by the Vision into an active rather than passive restraint, closes said loopholes as soon as Kaeya finds them--each strategy, including that one, has only a limited window before the magic starts triggering on it. And if that's what's happening, then forcing indirect or non-orders is just part of that overgrowth, because 'she didn't make it a direct order' is just another loophole, as far as that nasty mess of Abyssal magic and Vision power and Diluc's mistrust is concerned.

Even if that's not the specific mechanism I go with for why, I do know the magic is shutting down even that kind of passive resistance. The incident that makes Kaeya decide he has to tamper with it involves him being completely unable to give Jean mission-relevant information because it would have changed her strategy and the magic takes that as 'arguing' even though she would want to know. People get hurt because of it (including him)! No one gets killed this time, but... it's worth the risk to him not to put Jean in the position of being unwittingly responsible for someone's death. Because Diluc's coming home someday, and there's "so uh we might have anchored this on you without your knowledge or consent," and then there's "so uh someone died because we anchored this on you without your knowledge or consent," and there's both a moral event horizon here and, on the personal level, only so much forgiveness they can beg.

[68percentinfatuated]

There's something really scary knowing that the fics we love sometimes just disappear. Even if they're literally just silly things they still mean so much and it's so scary.

There's nothing we can do about it but download them and pray that nothing happens to them. And that's scary

There was something absolutely amazing about heatwaves. It like absolutely messed with our little community and really a lot of the communities around us. It was a source of inspiration for other fics, art, etc. But it's gone now.

If we didn't have downloads and reuploads it'd literally just not exist anymore except maybe on tbhyourlame's computer and that's terrifying to think about.

Remember to download your fics everyone, goodluck and goodnight

Ps; I have both heatwaves and (most of) helium if PDFs are needed, I think reuploads are also on Wattpad

Pss; Sorry for all the tags :(