#like meredith isn’t completely innocent

[larrylovesteein]

george o’malley is such a classic nice guy like he’s been secretly in love with meredith for two seasons and never tells her, just expects her to know cus everyone else does, and the whole time he’s being a “good” friend he’s secretly hoping for things to turn romantic. so he’s not being a good friend. then he gets mad at her when she starts crying while they’re having sex. dude! she’s emotionally broken & if you were really her friend you’d understand that! the whole relationship with derek fucked her up! not to mention her relationship with her parents! get over yourself!

[flutteringphalanges]

Reaching for the Stars

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt:  When your infant daughter starts to exhibit signs of inheriting her father’s powers, you and Adam find yourselves in quite a predicament. Not to mention when your brother, Peter, finds himself caught up in it. 

Word Count: 1,509

A/N: So I decided to write another one shot involving the reader and Adam Warlock having a child together. It is the same baby mentioned in my first one shot Aydith. The baby’s name is a combination of Meredith Quill and Ayesha (Adam’s mother). Also I couldn’t decide if the reader is married to Adam or dating, so I just said “partner”. You can decide! I might do another part to this one but I am not sure. I am open to requests! I hope you enjoy!

                                 Reaching for the Stars

“Look, I’m no baby expert, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly normal.”

Your heart was pounding too hard to even glare at your brother for his comment as the two of you stared up at the ceiling. You had only turned your head for a minute. A minute! And now your baby had decided that she no longer liked the ground and instead preferred floating several feet in the air where you couldn’t reach her. Thank god you were at least inside!

“Peter, do something!” You cried out, finally looking over at your brother in desperation. Oh, you felt sick. And faint. Christ, where the hell was Adam?! “Help me get her down!”

“What am I supposed to do?!” He gestured, obviously beginning to panic as well. “I’m not Groot! I can’t just extend my arms and grab her!” Peter exhaled and began to look around. “Maybe there is something we can use in here, like a broom?”

Your jaw dropped. “You want to hit my baby with a broom?!”

Peter threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “How the HELL did you come to that conclusion?! Why in all the universes would you assume I’d want to smack my niece out of the air?!”

“I don’t know?!” And your panicking was slowly growing into hysteria. You were just getting accustomed to parenting and now your perfect baby had decided to show off her celestial talents. Dammit, where was Adam?! “Aydith, it’s okay! Mommy is right here! Don’t move!”

Unlike you and her uncle, the infant seemed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She floated in one place, occasional flipping and offering you a two tooth smile. Her (your eye color) sparkled and she giggled down at the two of you, completely unaware of the terror she was causing you both.

“Y/N?”

Both you and Peter turned to see Adam standing in the doorway. If it hadn’t been for the severity of the situation, the way his expression of confusion switched to one of bewilderment upon seeing his child in the air would’ve been comical. You didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling of relief as you hurried over to his side.

“Our baby is flying!” You pointed as if he couldn’t clearly see the situation before him.

“I didn’t know she could do that.” He replied so innocently. Damn, you loved him so much but sometimes…

“Nor did I!” You sighed deeply, trying to regain some form of composure after losing it with Peter. “But apparently she can and now she is up there and I cannot get her down!”

“Y/N wasn’t open to any of my ideas--” Peter began to argue before you cut him off.

“Because you wanted to knock Aydith out of the air with a broom!” You hissed.

“I was going to try to hook the handle on her overalls and pull her down!” He shot back. “But you didn’t even let me finish my plan!”

You really wanted to point out Peter’s interesting history when it came to planning, but decided against it. Instead, you watched as your daughter peered down at Adam, her chubby, little arms reached out towards him. Effortlessly, your partner rose into the air and gingerly took a hold of her. The moment his feet touched the ground, the wave of relief that hit you almost brought you to your knees.

“Oh, Aydith!” At once, you scooped her from Adam’s embrace and hugged her close. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, okay?!” It was a battle to hold back tears as you held her close.

“So the kid can fly now.” Peter said as he looked at Adam. “And she isn’t even one yet. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you are just as clueless as the rest of us of what else Aydith might be capable of?”

You felt Adam’s hand rest on the small of your back. Even though his eyes weren’t fixed on you, you knew he was trying to offer some comfort. You moved closer, resting your head against him as Aydith fiddled with the collar of your shirt.

“No, I’m sorry.” His eyes met yours, the look on his face hard to read. “Until I learned Y/N was pregnant, I didn’t even think it was possible for us to reproduce.”

Your daughter let out a whine, one that you had come to recognize as her needing a nap. Peter made a goofy face, trying to make her smile. He’d always been so good with her--not that you had ever doubted he wouldn’t be. Aydith looked back at him, one cheek pressed against your chest. She was tired--and if you were quite frank, so were you.

“We need to talk with the others.” Peter stated, looking from you to Adam. “Maybe come up with some sort of game plan to keep Aydith grounded until we fully understand what she is able to do.”

Your eyes flickered down to your daughter who appeared to have finally drifted off. She was so small. So little. How could someone like that do something so extraordinary, yet so terrifying at such a young age? You didn’t fear the possibilities of what she would be like if she had inherited some of her father’s powers. No. No, you worried what would happen if she did. What dangers she would face. That’s what scared you.

  “Okay.” You nodded, shifting her in your arms. You knew the other Guardians would literally drop anything any of them were doing and come to your aid if you asked. That’s what families did after all. There was an old saying you remembered that said it took a village to raise a child--in this case, that village was turning out to be Knowhere. “Let’s do it.”

                                                      XXX

Silence followed you as you and Adam walked to Aydith’s room. Peter was gone and a part of you felt guilty of not apologizing after he left. You made a mental note to do so the next time you saw him. When you reached her crib, you cautiously set her down, doing your best not to wake her. Thankfully you were successful.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” The sound of Adam’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I never even fathomed the idea of Aydith having my abilities. If I had known, or even considered it for that matter…” He shook his head, guilt heavy in his tone as if he blamed himself. “If there hadn’t been a roof…”

The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad. Adam’s powers, his gifts, they were beautiful. You didn’t dare want him to think otherwise. And certainly you didn’t want him to think that he’d cursed your daughter. Reaching out, you take a hold of his hand, interlocking your fingers. Aydith was safe. That was what was important. She was in her crib before the both of you passed out. Completely and utterly lost to the world.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You assured him, reaching up with your other hand to turn his face towards your. “Aydith is a part of you, just as she is me. And I suppose one of those parts of you involves her having some sort of special abilities.” You offered him a small smile. “Even if witnessing my child levitate in the air wasn’t what I had initially ever anticipated her doing.”

Adam squeezed your hand. “No, I cannot say I pictured her doing so either.”

You both watched her quietly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. You were still on edge, though your anxiety had lessened quite a bit since Aydith had been deemed safe. Exhaling, you catch Adam’s gaze in your own.

“We’ve got this.” And you were a little surprised how sure you sounded. “At least, we can’t afford not to be, right? After everything we’ve been through as Guardians, I think we can manage this new milestone…Or whatever you want to call this new development.”  

The corners of Adam’s mouth twitch slightly upwards at your words. “Yes, I agree with you. We haven’t let anything stop us yet.”

He dropped your hand and wound his arm around you to pull you into a kiss. You let your eyes close for a moment, melting in his embrace. It was moments like this that you cherished between the two of you. Especially after Aydith had been born and your intimate times had shifted some depending on her needs. Parenthood had surely become a whirlwind--one that you had welcomed with wide, open arms.

“I love you.” You murmured softly, pulling back just enough so that your eyes met. “Both of you.”

“And I you.” Adam replied, resting his forehead against yours. “In every universe and every dimension.” He turned away for just a second to peer over at your daughter before looking back. “We’ve got this, don���t we?”

This time, the nod you gave him felt much more confident. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We do.”

[troythings]

tbh i actually….agree with this, aside from the whole nazism thing. it’s not new, it’s not as foreign in american society like people think. 2017 wasn’t so unexpected if we look at our own history. but yeah we need more stories where diana is represented in that military, overall human rights setting.

devastation, from eric luke’s run, was effective because she was just that. devastation. her job is to spread discord and violence and she planned on utilizing a group of accelerationist nuclear-armed terrorists to achieve her goal of complete, utter destruction. she was created in the same clay fashion to be the opposite of diana. having an “opposite” of diana be that, that really says something. and before that, luke wrote “the bearing of the soul” as a one-shot of diana attempting to resolve conflict in a war zone. and he wrote it respectfully.

then we had a similar character genocide, the “walking war crime” from gail simone’s run, made a really distinct impression because we had a character that actually embodied everything diana stands against. by nature, diana is against war and the murder of innocent people. but genocide was diana’s corpse from the future embued with the soil of past genocides, and gail simone was actually smart about this. the commentary was “we said ‘never again’ but we’re actually big fucking hypocrites about future genocides because this thing wouldn’t exist without them.” we got diana at her best: someone who fights for peace and a universal common good.

and tbh?? the third volume of wonder woman was actually a nice exploration of the old 1940s, typical american concept without being too heavy handed. thanks tom king. we had the diana prince “affiliated with the government” identity, diana siding with the americans in amazons attack because she knows aggression when she sees it and isn’t loyal to just one group of people, diana “living as an american but having the full stubbornness of the amazon race”..yk, it just felt classic.

also tempted to add the 1st volume of wonder woman odyssey here since it tackled that concept of genocide and war crimes again, especially the banality of it. and it was written by JMS, who had a scumfuck nazi war criminal for a father and again. he knew what he was talking about. meredith finch’s run with the new 52 donna troy was also this, having a moral opposite of diana being “a personification of hatred and fear.”

where it all becomes a sheer fucking mess is when inexperienced or just plain stupid (yes im using the word stupid) try to tackle this theme and im gonna say steve orlando is the prime example here. weird liberal orange man bad dude with selective compassion depending whether or not you support the current good guy party, somehow this mf still gets work.

he reduces genocide and devastation, who have these rich character histories, into average baddies that get pummeled wah wah wah. he attempts to write out a redemption arc for paula von gunther and gives her the typical “baby saved from a burning building” origin when really…i think diana of all people, knowing that she had to kill genocide and devastation in the previous continuity, would recognize that paula here is a lost cause who should’ve been thrown into the fire because one point of nazism is to fuck like rabbits and produce more of themselves. but noooope, he’s like “nah maybe this bitch ass has a point, just gotta look deep into your heart uwu.”

and as if that’s not bad enough hahaha, he decides to drag donna into his fantasy fulfillment in some kind of pseudo operation iraqi freedom/arab spring bullshit, in 2023 with again, “family nazis” in it because that’s apparently the only thing people actually give a shit out and we have to resort to overdone black and white propaganda like this. like alright tough guy, go read up on the boer internments and say something about the china concentration camps if you really give a shit and aren’t just writing some stupid “hahaha nazis” fantasy. which is funny because he’s said nothing about actual human rights abuse and is all like waaaaahh republicans. and worst part tbh, people like this kind of crap.

but yeah TLDR, old concepts with diana are good, handling it like shit is bad.

Wonder Woman is similar where she spent the most of her first comics fighting Nazis and random enemies of the state with onlya few big named "Supervillains", most of which had no powers at all. I think that really is her sweet spot as a character which is dealing with national threats, military, intelligence, and war. It's a shame she lost her Diana Prince Id and that job at the intelligence agency because its literally so important to her character and sets her entire story up like any secret ID would.

This isn't to take away from her crazy villains and all there different areas like occultism, psychology, etc. because she has a whole range of influences that have been wiped away or rarely get brought up but she was so clearly a well defined hero from the beginning with clear influences and themes that go far beyond anything anyone ever brings up about her which is usually just the gender stuff, which is important, but even that is badly represented and misunderstood.

I think the great thing about Wonder Woman though is that although WW2 was really important to the formation of her character, its not necessarily something she needs to have for her to work. There are always international conflicts, issues, military spats, etc. that can inspire her to leave her island and to go into that weird world of her with no issue. The threat of War always exist so the character always has a reason to leave even in times of relative international peace since there is always a problem or something that can be made up.

Comics rarely write on topical modern issues the way they did in the past anyway so there's very little reason to wait until there is another crazy event to find inspiration for her character.

Just reading her comics and looking at her character i think someone that genuinely wants to modernize the character for today could have a ball doing research on all these things Marston wrote and trying to configure them properly in modern day while keeping the character in tact.

Seeing a modern day Priscilla Rich as whatever young New York socialites look like now would be a lot of fun, maybe she's the biggest name in New York and all the other socialites on whatever their scene looks like, maybe reality tv shows, boarding schools, charity events, etc. all talk about her with such amazement coming from a super wealthy family and having her hand in a bit of everything while she is secretly dealing with deep mental issues that are brought on by her jealousy of Diana

Seeing Etta Candy or the Holliday Girls in a modern sorority from a small local elite womens college/university helping out in war efforts.

Dr. Psycho going back to his roots of using hypnotism, ectoplasm, occult practice, and his position as a respected doctor with a crazy past to be a menance to people.

Paula Von Gunther in modern day with the rise of Nazism apparently in the US and how that would look could be a fun story

Doctor Poison being behind a massive outbreak or illness similar to Covid and all the poltics behind that......maybe she needed to find a way to stifle people while she cooks something up worse, start political outbreak, etc.

Like there is so much there and its really fun to think about

[pollylynn]

Title: Exemplar WC: 1100 Episode: Secret Santa (5 x 09)

When she shows up on his doorstep, she’s expecting full-on Richard Castle the Kid, and he does not disappoint. He spends an inordinate amount of time giving her a completely non-euphemistic tour of his train set. Of course she doesn’t know many kids who could also offer an extended digression on the intellectual bankruptcy of the Dickensian Village, given Dickens’ dedication to all things urban, but he definitely does not need the added boost of the cookie sugar rush that’s clearly on its way. 

She’s into it. Now that she’s over herself, she is pretty shamelessly into the way he takes her by the hand and tells her the story of every single ornament and the shy innocence of the kisses he sneaks, even though he’s clearly maneuvering her under the mistletoe at every opportunity. Although the Kate Beckett of four years ago would never have believed it, she finds Richard Castle the Kid utterly charming, and she’s genuinely glad that she didn’t, in the end, cheat herself out of this experience—this opportunity to bask in this unadulterated joy. 

She’s genuinely glad that she didn’t cheat him out of this. He darts from her to Alexis to his mother and back again, unable to settle for long on which of them to annoy, to shower with affection, to embarrass. He does all of these at once to all three of them at once, and she knows how differently things would have played out here if she hadn’t shown up on his doorstep. 

She is, for brief moments here and there, a little resentful about that. She’s surprised when that realization swims up and breaks the surface of her consciousness. She’s dismayed. It seems like proof positive that her mind simply won’t let her have nice things, that it’s determined to hang out with the holiday-hating likes of Esposito and the Grinch, and—heaven forfend—Captain Gates. 

But her instincts are better these days when it comes to knowing herself. They’re not great—hell, they’re probably not even good—but they’re better than they were. So while he’s dancing a remarkably forbearing Alexis around the loft, she lets herself turn the word over in her mind. Resentful. It’s not quite right. What is it that she resents, after all? Her own choice to exchange of a lonely ritual, one that’s rooted in deep sadness, for this—for warmth and light and joy?  

More important, maybe, is the question of who is it that she resents? It’s certainly not Richard Castle the Kid, who is currently march-of-the-wooden-soldier-ing his way to the kitchen for more glögg, the alcohol content of which clearly cannot even begin to subdue him. She breaths a sigh of relief into her own cup as the truth of that washes through her and forces some of the tension from her limbs. In no cell of her body, in no cobwebbed corner of her mind or heart does she resent Richard Castle the Kid. 

She’s not sure what causes the penny to drop. It might be the effort he makes to notch himself down long enough to gather Martha and Alexis to him to apologize, to tell them how grateful he is that the two of them cared enough to keep their tradition, even when he was being rigid and petulant. Or it might be the way he stoically takes the high road and hangs back when Meredith finally calls Alexis, hours later than she’d promised. It might be the way he slows himself down to check on her, to make sure that the Castle family Christmas is not taking too big a toll on her. 

Whether it’s one of these things or all of them together, the penny does drop with such force that it feels like it must have fallen from the top of the Empire State Building. She resents Richard Castle the Grown-Up. She laughs out loud when she realizes it and then has to cope with Richard Castle the Kid trying to shake her down for the joke. But his sugar buzz takes care of that issue in short order. He’s off to harass Alexis again, and she’s left with time and enough glögg to think this thing through. 

Her instincts about herself are better these days. She has, with Burke’s help and work on her own time, come to understand, recognize, and when she’s really lucky, head off at the pass, some of her more self-destructive tendencies. But better, as previously noted, isn’t great. Better, as previously noted, isn’t even good. 

She resents Richard Castle the Grown-Up for asking the hard question—Why not just tell me? She resents him for the simplicity and grace of his response—I didn’t know. He has, in less than ten words, revealed himself to be the man who would never have asked her to give up her tradition, would not have wheedled or cajoled or laid a guilt trip on her until she gave in. Even tonight, if things had played out another way, if she’d kept her watch and he’d kept his tradition, she knows that his joy would certainly have shone a little less brightly, he’d have certainly have played up the drama to let her know that she’d been missed, but he would never have held her choice against her. 

It’s easier for him to say what he wants. That’s true. That’s a matter of character. And it’s equally true that it’s hard for her—it’s hard for her to let herself want anything, and harder still to let that desire be known in a world that feels like it’s been uniformly unkind to her. But she’s safe with him. It’s safe to simply come out and say what she wants, what’s important to her, and tonight she’s in the very strange position of feeling like she’s missed an important memo from Richard Castle the Grown-Up. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He’s been making a show of sneaking up on her as part of his antic display. She spoils his fun by snatching his hand out of the air just as he’s about to tug on a lock of her hair. He plunks himself down, unperturbed,, but his voice is low. He’s checking on her. 

“You,” she says, taking a leap. She hesitates. Her breath feels like champagne bubbles in her chest as she takes another one. She knows she’ll never hear the end of this, but she pulls him close anyway. “I was thinking I want to be you when I grow up.” 

A/N: Richard Castle the Adult—THIS IS PEAK LACK OF MORPHOUSNESS

images via kissthemgoodbye

[mrsgreenworld]

Son Yaz Episode 23

"İmkansız" ("The Impossible") aka It's Worth It

It's strange but after the last episode I've been thinking a lot about Arrow. Sure I'm a big Arrow and Olicity fan. Hell, they're the reason I got a Tumblr account. When the show ended, it was tough. Because it had been a part of my life for several years and it resonated with me deeply and it had given me a sense of community and belonging. So I feared I would never feel it again. But then Sen Çal Kapımı kinda attacked me, pulled me in and it was so great - feeling this passionate about something again. And despite SCK having turned into a mess and huge disappointment, I'll always appreciate those early days and keep them in my heart. After all, it brought me to you @lolo-deli and @djemsostylist. This alone is something I'm very grateful for. But my disappointment with SCK left me wondering yet again: would I ever find something worth watching and shipping and obsessing over? I got my answer when, after having seen all the amazing gifs by @aslibekroglu, I finally gave in and started watching Son Yaz. And it's completely taken over my life ever since. Not in a way SCK had back in the day. By similar to the way I felt when I was watching Arrow. I know it may seem kinda crazy because Son Yaz and Arrow are two completely different shows. Like, two shows cannot be any further apart, almost to the point of polar opposites. But I've realized that, if we look past the genre, language, the storytelling and all other differences, there's something very similar in the heart and core of both these shows. I looked at Akgün in the last episode and holy shit how much he reminded me of Oliver Queen. And I'll gladly explain why. Let's get down to it.

Akgün

So how the hell did I end up comparing Akgün Gökalp Taşkın and Oliver Queen? It's very simple really (at least it is in my mind 🙈😆) and I'm surprised I haven't made this connection before. Because both Akgün and Oliver are essentially the same type of character - a tortured hero, tainted by darkness and burdened with past sins but ultimately a very good person with a pure heart, bright light inside and infinite capacity to love. Both of them don't hesitate to make sacrifices for those they love, they can be borderline suicidal when it comes to protecting their loved ones. Sure Oliver had a mission and wanted to make a difference by helping people and protecting the whole city. Akgün doesn't have these ambitions. But then again Son Yaz isn't a superhero type of show. But if we remove the "super" part and focus on just the men, we'll see that what they both crave is actually very simple - love and family. I also think that Akgün reminds me of Oliver more now because in season 1, despite his difficult childhood and the loss of his mother, there still was some innocence left in him, he wasn't truly touched by the darkness. It changed when he shot his brother and helped Selim beat up to death and then buried a man, possibly still alive. Taking someone's life robs a person of innocence. Same thing happened to Oliver. However, he's way more acquainted with darkness, given how he dropped bodies left and right at the beginning of his vigilante career. It's clear that Akgün and Oliver had very different journeys but it's impossible for me to ignore the core similarities.

Another thing Akgün and Oliver have in common is their desire to not just protect their loved ones from the dangers and evil of this world, but also from themselves, their own darkness. They deem themselves unworthy of the women they love. Akgün even straight out confessed it to Yağmur in the moment of panic. That's the reason he left - he didn't want to taint her with his darkness. But then again, he's never truly left her or given up on her. He's given up on himself. He's doomed himself to loneliness.

I must say that episode 23 in general made me love Akgün even more. We saw not only his devotion and fierce love for Yağmur but his love and loyalty to Soner. Their brotp is one of the best things on this show and I sure hope they won't destroy it.

The Rocket Team (yes, the name is now canon!!!!) reunion gave me all the feels. Seeing these three grown men turn into teary eyed mess just melted my heart.

Throughout the whole episode we saw Akgün trying to be there for everyone. He didn't want to argue with and go against Selim but he also didn't want to betray Soner. The scene where Akgün met with Selim and told him that Soner and Naz had gotten married, made me so proud of him. He was the reasonable one in that moment. That's a first 🙈😆 At the end of the scene Akgün also managed to make me laugh. Really laugh. I didn't think I would be laughing any time soon this season but his wild gestures, his frustration with Selim and his "just listen to me for once" - all of that was funny to watch.

Just like I said, Akgün was supportive and tried being there for everyone, that's why he was immediately on board with the wedding. Soner had to only ask and it's like the three years of not having seen each other were erased in that moment. Akgün didn't try to talk Soner out of it, didn't ask any questions. He did remind Soner of the consequences but it was very cautious, filled with love and concern, without overstepping and disrespecting Soner's choice.

Then there was Yağmur... Akgün and Soner going to search for her and then the moment when Akgün found Yağmur in that storage room - that was for sure the highlight of the episode for me. First we saw Akgün and Soner working together as a well-oiled machine. Perfect partners in crime 😎 And after they split, the moment when Akgün stopped for a second and just smelled Yağmur... Damn. Such a parallel to Yağmur smelling him in episode 22. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, what they've been through, how much they've changed, doesn't matter if there's anger and pain and so much unsaid between them - they still just feel each other. Their connection is there, strong as ever. And Alperen totally knocked it out of the park, showing Akgün's panic and raw fear the moment he found Yağmur. He'd never seen her like that and it shook him to the core. I swear he looked ready to cut his chest open, take out his heart or, I don't know, lungs and give to Yağmur, just to make it stop, just to make her okay again 😭😭😭

When Naz tried to tell Akgün about Yağmur and what she had been through, Akgün didn't want to hear it. Because he couldn't bear it. But in the end he was forced to witness Yağmur's breakdown. The first one of many others to come. And when they come, he won't be able to stay away any longer.

Yağmur

Yağmur's journey this season is all about healing and acceptance. She has to live through those 5 stages of grief. Just like Meredith Grey once said: "There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us. But there are always five". And I already said in my episode 22 review that Yağmur locked herself in denial. Naz in her conversation with Akgün confirmed it. But ever since Akgün showed up in the restaurant, it's like the floodgates of Yağmur's grief have been open. She started spiralling, diving head first into anger. All her anger was directed at Akgün. And even though Yağmur came to visit Akgün in prison to say that she was no longer angry with him, her biting words, the "I don't love you anymore" and the following panick attack - all of that only proves that she's still just as angry with him as she was, simply because she's still very much in love with him.

I think Yağmur's bargaining stage of grief revealed itself with Naz, when Yağmur went to the hotel to bring Naz home. In Yağmur's head there is this idea that she has to protect Naz, she's convinced that she can save her cousin from suffering Canan's fate. But Naz refused to go with Yağmur, therefore making Yağmur feel helpless and maybe even abandoned. Already in this fragile and vulnerable state, Yağmur completely lost it after having heard gunshots. She finally started accepting that something's wrong. And it's so important that, when she finally said the words "I don't recognize myself anymore", Akgün was the one she said those words to. It's like she had been waiting for him all this time. Naz told Akgün that Yağmur needed someone to tell her what had happened to her. Akgün's that someone. Only with Akgün back in her life, Yağmur will finally accept her mother's death and then start moving on.

Selim

I don't have much to say about Selim in episode 23 other than a string of curses 🤬🤬🤬.

I've never loved this character and barely even liked him. Canan made him bearable and with her gone... Well, we've got what we saw in the last episode. I wonder how he was never kicked out of his job. Not only was he completely unhinged but also absolutely stupid and unprofessional during that mission with Sare. Then him forcing Akgün to choose between himself and Soner. And of course him storming into Yağmur and Emel's house, yelling and demanding to see Naz. Mister, it's not your place to demand anything, let alone act all righteous and question Emel as a mother. I swear, I wanted to rip his tongue out 😠😡😤

That's pretty much all I have to say about Selim in the last episode. Well, I've got more to say but I don't see it moving forward without me spitting profanities and turning violent.

A few honourable mentions:

🖤 Naz and her attempt to talk to Akgün about Yağmur.

🖤 Sare was kinda funny and she deserved a cookie for putting up with Selim. Glad they didn't make her stupid and she figured out that she was being followed.

🖤 Cihan trying to help Yağmur with her panick attack was very sweet. It was a nice first meeting. Although him being her secret admirer is kinda creepy and makes zero sense for now. I really hope they're going to show how it all started. Speaking of Cihan. I'm kinda conflicted about him. On the one hand, he's sweet and gentle with Yağmur, pretty hot when he was speaking German but also cunning and cold-blooded when he tipped off the Mertoğlu about Soner's whereabouts. And in episode 24 he's going to team up with Akgün to avenge Soner?🤔 Damn, the guy's making my head spin.

And that's pretty much it. Görüşürüz!

[mirandalinotto]

South Solitary Review

Trigger Warnings: Death, Combat PTSD, Referenced Suicide, Sexual Assault/Dubious Consent, Cheating, Implied Pregnancy Loss/Abortion, Hysterectomy, Blaming the Victim..... yeah. it’s a lot.

here there be spoilers. 

I definitely went into this movie thinking it was a cute little story about a girl, her lamb, and her stern uncle. Boy, was I wrong!

Miranda Otto plays Meredith Appleton, the niece of George (played be her real-life father, Barry Otto). I’m going to use Miranda and Barry’s names instead of their character names, because that’s just easier to understand, I think, but please know I’m talking about the characters they play, not they themselves.

So, Barry and Miranda are sent to the South Solitary island because the Head Lighthouse Keeper committed suicide, and the lighthouse needed a new person in charge. Barry is incredibly strict and often rude, but I suppose that’s understandable, at least when it comes to how he treats his staff, considering the state they find the lighthouse management in.

Miranda’s character seems incredibly precious, shy, demure, and completely unfit for the rough life of living on a craggy rock with only a few other people for company. At the start, there are six other people on the island: the Stanley family, which consists of Henry Stanley (a rogue if there ever was one), Alma, his rough and sharp-tongued wife (played by Essie Davis), and their three children... and then the brooding, PTSD-plagued war-veteran, Jack Fleet.

There are some pretty upsetting subjects discussed in this movie, not the least of which being an extremely blunt conversation between Miranda and Essie Davis, in which Essie Davis’ character presses Miranda for intimate details about why she isn’t married yet, and hasn’t had any kids. 

Miranda reveals that she can’t have children, because an operation went wrong (it’s implied that she had an abortion, based on Essie asking, “you were up the pipe?”), and she was forced to have a hysterectomy as a result. She says the child was conceived with a married man (which I’m extremely confused about, because I thought the man involved would’ve been her so-called fiancé...?) and it’s very odd that they just drop that fact into the story, because it seems extremely out of character for Meredith, as we know her currently... and yet, it becomes a fundamental characterization, as she later goes on to sleep with a married man again, and defends how poorly her uncle treats her by insisting that he was the only one who would take her in after the (implied) abortion. 

Essie Davis is unsympathetic to Miranda’s sad backstory, and never warms up to Miranda’s character... so the opportunity for female friendship was sadly missed in this film. They are pretty much enemies from start to finish.

There’s also a subplot where Miranda tries to get to know the youngest child, Netty, but the girl is very hard to read. You can tell she’s had a rough life, and doesn’t suffer fools. Their “friendship” barely develops before Netty fails to care for Miranda’s sheep, and they have a falling out.

Also, there is an ambiguously rape-y, dubiously consensual scene where Henry attempts to seduce Miranda, and is... apparently successful? I feel very strongly that her multiple polite refusals of his advances ought to have indicated to the man that he should leave her alone. She seems incredibly naïve, innocent, and virginal in this scene (which is odd, considering she’s apparently had an affair with a married man before...?!). He’s pretty open about being attracted to her for a good portion of the scene, so Miranda’s polite rebuffs shouldn’t have been taken as consent---as in, he took the fact that she didn’t throw him out of her cottage at the first warning sign as “leading him on.”

To that point, she literally says, “I’m sorry if I’ve led you on,” and he says she hasn’t, and then like one minute later, when she insists she hadn’t noticed that he was interested in her, he acts surprised and goes: “well now you really are leading me on.”

When it becomes clear he’s about to kiss her, she gets this incredibly frightened look on her face, and says, “oh! there’s the milk boiling!” clearly intending to run away from him and tend to the stove, but he forces her to kiss him... and then the scene cuts to black, leaving me very concerned that he raped her.

We see them alone together two more times, one where he forces another kiss on her in the light house, and then another where it’s just a straight-up sex scene. I hate the angle they took the sex scene from, because it looks like Miranda’s body is in an extremely uncomfortable position as he pounds into her. It definitely doesn’t read as a romantic coupling, that’s for sure. 

I guess we’re meant to believe that she warmed up to him sometime between him forcing himself on her in the kitchen and them having sex in her bed days later...?

(I hate it.)

Anyway, Essie Davis finds out about the affair, and makes the whole family leave the island. This leaves only three people left: Miranda, Barry, and the war-veteran, Jack, who has frequent PTSD episodes and really shouldn’t be a lighthouse keeper at all. 

Also, Barry is PISSED when he finds out about Miranda’s affair, and there’s a lot of slut-shaming and victim-blaming that goes on, right before he just randomly... dies? I definitely didn’t see that coming. So he dies while still extremely disappointed in Miranda, and I just hate that, because her character seems fixated on what others think of her. His displeasure with her in his final hours definitely left a wound in her heart.

Which then leaves Miranda alone on the island with Jack. Miranda’s character isn’t good at being alone. The rest of the movie is honestly just her trying to get Jack to open up to her, but he doesn’t really. They embroider things together, and he teaches her how to be a lighthouse keeper, but they only barely scratch the surface of each other’s pasts. 

And then a ship arrives to take her home....?!! The end?! But not before she insists she ought to stay, which I found incredibly weird. She barely knows this brooding man, and suddenly she can’t live without him? She doesn’t want to leave him alone, despite the living conditions on the island being impossible for her to endure? It’s very strange.

I had high hopes for this movie, and I do think it’s worth watching, if only for Miranda’s beautiful, moving performance.... but I just sort of don’t know what the point or message of this film was supposed to be...? 

Miranda Otto’s character is treated pretty poorly by everyone on the island. There is very little happiness or humor to balance the darkness of the story.  Most of the moments that are meant to be romantic or sexy are dubiously consensual, so I didn’t find those very enjoyable, and the subplot about her lamb going missing (presumed dead) and then her finding it months later just isn’t that entertaining, if I’m being honest?

All in all, I’d give Miranda’s performance a 10/10, but the movie as a whole about a 5/10.

[orionsangel86]

15x04 Episode Review - What a Meta Rollercoaster THAT was!

Jensen Ackles directed this. Let that sink in before you read on. Because this means EVERYTHING.

Davy Perez said on Twitter that he had a lot of help with this episode from Bobo, Dabb, Meredith, Even from Jensen and Rob. Which seems pretty clear from me as I was blown away by what I consider a meta masterpiece.

There is a lot to unpack here so let me just jump straight in with my favourite part:

THE REDEEMED FANGIRL AND THE BRONLY GOD

In an episode directed by Jensen Ackles it both astonishes me and pleases me immensely that the strongest and most interesting plot didn’t involve the brothers. Every single scene with Becky and Chuck was a galaxy brain of meta and my head is still buzzing about it. 

**Meta Essay under the cut**

Becky has changed. She has grown up, has gone to therapy, has channelled previously unhealthy behaviour into a stable and successful Etsy business. She is the model fangirl. No longer the source of this shows mockery. Becky shuddered when remembering what she did to Sam. Showing her regret and guilt over her former actions leading the way for this fanbase to forgive and redeem her. Formerly Becky was portrayed as a mockery of those in the fandom who irritated Kripke, now she has grown beyond that dark and hateful corner, has welcomed Castiel into her home as the character whose form appears most often on her shelves. Clearly Becky is a Cas stan now. I bet she ships Destiel in those domestic AU’s she writes on AO3. Only Cas stans and Destiel shippers proclaim “not enough Cas” when referring to the source material after all.

However even though the positive message of the reformed fangirl from obsessive incest fetishist into healthy Cas fan filled me with joy, it wasn’t my top take away moment from these scenes. The entire message of Chuck and Becky’s conversation makes me want to cry tears of joy. After all, it isn’t often your favourite show includes an avatar of yourself arguing with an avatar for the writers - or at least, the villainous arrogant writer who refuses to acknowledge you. 

Becky likes the character drama. Chuck likes the monsters. Becky doesn’t care for the monsters. Chuck brings up the Leviathan (because of course Chuck would enjoy the season that first tried to “go back to the shows roots” and reduce the format back to just “Sam and Dean alone on the road”). Chuck tells her that fanfiction doesn’t count, but our strong willed fangirl avatar tells him “writings writing!” and damn right you are Becky. It counts.

Then Becky goes and blows my mind by speaking aloud in my favourite show the kind of things that I think and talk about every time this show brings out another generic MOTW episode:

“If I had to give one note, the jeopardy Chuck, its feeling a little thin. No stakes. It’s fun to hear the boys voices but a story is only as good as its villain and these villains are just not feeling very dangerous. Not to mention there’s no classic rock, no one even mentions Cas, the climax is a little stale. The boys tied up again while we get the villains monologue which frankly isn’t one of your best. A hint of originality wouldn’t… hurt.”

(x)

At this point I might as well be on the floor because holy shit Becky is me. When did the writers become so very aware of their fanbase? It’s taken them 15 years, but they are finally here. Chuck is fuming of course. How dare a fangirl criticise his work, so instead of taking her advice on board, he plays up. He gets mean.

Chuck’s perfect SPN ending is tragic and in some weird insanely meta way this feels like a message from the writers telling us that they hear us because Becky once again says what we have ALL been screaming on Twitter about a tragic ending:

“It’s awful. Horrible! It’s hopeless! You can’t do this to the fans! What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam?”

I keep thinking that the SPN writers have made Chuck into a parody of the GoT writers. Chuck is arrogant, egotistical, and completely incapable of taking criticism. He went to Becky hoping she would fluff up his ego, but she shot him down and unfortunately, he destroyed her for it. 

The message here though is one of hope. Everything about Chuck is framed as negative, as villainous - this includes the tragic ending. Therefore if there is one thing I am practically certain of after this episode it’s that the actual finale will subvert Chuck’s vision. We will not be getting a tragic death ending to the show.

The other thing I can’t quite believe that the writers have done here, in an episode directed by Jensen is the shaaaade. I’m honestly feeling a little sorry for the bibro’s right now. Because the writers have been shading them HARD this season. Chuck has proven himself to be one of them. Imagine having the writers see you and the things you like about the show, and make you into the actual villain? I mean... ouch.

Reasons Chuck is a Bibro

He has tunnel vision on Sam and Dean (ignores Castiel completely)

He is all about the MOTW episodes. Doesn’t pay attention to depth of character

He clearly enjoyed season 7 MOTW brother only season

He believes a tragic brother only ending would be loved by the fans

He wants a dark tragic ending

When Becky recommends he write something else, he moans that he only likes Sam and Dean and only wants to write about them.

He is arrogant, egotistical and doesn’t listen to criticism.

(this is technically a crack intermission to an otherwise serious meta post but ADMIT IT there is truth to this crack!)

SAM AND DEAN - CHUCKS PUPPETS?

Whilst Becky faces Chuck and makes all our meta writer hearts pound with excitement, the other main story was a rather generic MOTW episode. But wasn’t that the whole point? What a genius twist on a MOTW this episode was. We all know the formula, so overdone now in the show that it has grown tiresome. Yet to have that tiresome format called out in the very episode that... includes... that...format... well, that’s gotta be one of the most meta things this show has ever done. I’m in awe. 

Sam and Dean investigate the mysterious death of a cheerleader at Beaverdale high school (and even though I don’t watch Riverdale even I can see how this school is a blatant nod to that terrible show #sorrynotsorry). It starts off pretty boring and normal. Sam and Dean do their thing, they wear the suits and pretend to be feds. They suspect Veronica (again Riverdale fans are probably enjoying this) but realise that she can’t be their vamp. The boys seem quite lost as to who is responsible... until Chuck starts writing that is. Then suddenly a random car driving past the crime scene on CCTV is enough for them to enter someones house with a machete. It’s a sloppy MOTW storyline, but this seems intentional IMO. From the moment Sam and Dean are back in their lumberjack chic and storming the family home to accuse the father of being the vamp, something feels off - or it did to me anyway. 

In fact, as this was all playing out right at the moment that Becky critiqued Chuck’s writing, it felt as if she was critiquing the very MOTW hunt that we were watching, at least from that point onwards. 

Suddenly we are back in Chuck’s world and he’s made it dark and tragic. 

The son in this nuclear family is Jack. unwillingly monstrous, innocent and guilty at the same time. The father, so desperate and self sacrificial for his child - heartbreakingly Castiel:

“You don’t have children do you, because if you did you would know that to see your child in pain, rips your heart out, and you’d know that you’d do anything. You’d die for them.”

The mother, wide eyed, armed and dangerous - Clearly Dean:

“Or kill for them.”

The son plays his part perfectly. Chuck be proud:

“I killed someone that I loved” 

“I’m a monster” 

Compare this to Jack in 14x20 saying to Dean as he stares down the barrel of the gun “You were right. I am the monster.”

But we as the audience know that this situation is wrong. There is no real monster here other than Chuck. The boy is a victim just as Jack was. The parents forced into desperate circumstances out of love. They may be the stereotypical white middle class American family made of privilege and self obsession, but what they do is still purely out of love. It is a situation they are forced into by Chuck, just as he forced the TFW family into the same situation at the end of last season, and we are made to look on in horror as what happened in the season 14 finale happens again, and yet Sam and Dean barely blink or question their actions. This is the strangest part of all. 

Sam’s reaction is interesting, because he knows this is wrong. He knows they shouldn’t be killing this kid. He can see the mirror, the repeated story here. He can TELL that something isn’t right... but he doesn’t speak up, doesn’t protest, doesn’t stop it. 

Dean doesn’t question a damn thing. He plays his part perfectly. It’s haunting. Chuck almost had his clutches in Dean before, but this time his hold is tight. 

Look at how this was framed and tell me this whole thing isn’t Chuck’s doing?

In both scenes Sam looks on in horror knowing that it isn’t right. But this time no one protests, and Chuck get’s his horrific ending.

Chuck banishes Becky and her family, and arrogantly proclaims that he “can do anything, I’m a writer” and the next scene cuts to Sam and Dean in the car ready for the classic Bro Melodrama moment as to be expected of all standard MOTW, but this time, it feels like they are reading from a script - at least at first:

Dean: “Well that was an interesting one.”

Sam: “Yeah. What Henry did. We’d have done the same thing. For Jack, if we’d had the chance.”

Dean: “Yeah. Yeah we would. Look man I get it. I get it we have lost way way too much. And its hard enough to feel like just cashing up. I felt like that. After Chuck back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back, you did. You saying that what we do still matters.

That’s why I wanted to drag us out here, to work the case, to save lives. Ya know. Because it is, it’s a crap job. We do the ugly thing so people can live happy.”

Sam: “Lucky them.”

Dean: “Yeah lucky them.”

Sam: “But it doesn’t change a thing. Ya know you still do the job. We don’t do it for us. We do it for Jack, for mom, for Rowena. We owe it to everyone whose ever given a damn about us to keep putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what.

Hey man like you said, now that Chucks gone. We’re finally on our own. We are finally free to… move on. Ya know.”

Sam: “Yeah I dunno I dunno if I can move on. I can’t forget any of them. I still think about Jessica. I can’t just let that go.”

Dean: “No man that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Sam: “I know I know I’m sorry I know. What I’m saying is that I don’t feel free. What we’ve done, what we’ve lost, right now that is what I’m feeling and sometimes its, its like I can’t even breath. Maybe tomorrow, maybe ill feel better in the morning.”

Dean: “And what if you don’t?”

Sam: “I dunno.”

First of all, would they REALLY have done the same thing for Jack? Kidnapped and bled an innocent girl to feed him? Because I don’t think they would have. Then Dean goes into a monologue that we have heard over and over again and it feels like he is reading from a script. It’s like going through the motions. We are back in Chuck’s worlds. There is no freedom here. Even the lack of Cas mention which we can argue is because Dean is burying those feelings and in denial, even so it feels jarring in the episode where the lack of Cas mention was already called out directly by Becky, so it only further adds to how disjointed this whole scene is. Like this scene is pure wank fodder for Bibro Chuck. Quite frankly, it is. But this time it feels like the writers are aware of this and are doing it purposely to MAKE it feel off.

The one time the script seems to trip is when Dean mentions moving on - triggering Cas’s words from last week, which he struggles with, and then Sam protests and actually opens up to how he is really feeling. The brother’s are back in Chuck’s maze, and this time it seems like he has made it impossible to deviate from the path - but I do wonder if Sam is going to be harder to control because of the connection...

The final shot of the episode only seems to further confirm that the Winchesters are once again being manipulated by Chuck. They are his puppets again, and this time it may even be worse:

There is a huge sense of foreboding with this final shot. The shaking funko pops seemingly in fear of what Chuck plans to do. The two feathers behind them indicating their missing guardian angel (as Chuck continues to neglect Cas’s role in classic Bronly form) the tree indicating a garden? Heaven? and the grey paper with the Winchester tattoo potentially the gravestone that Chuck visualised? 

Whatever Chuck has planned, it appears to have played out in some form in this episode. Whilst I don’t think that the boys have been completely robbed of their free will, it is safe to say that they are back to playing by Chuck’s script, but this time with the confidence of men who think they are free. 

CASTIEL AS THE CATALYST FOR FREE WILL

For years now, I have been one of those annoying people irritating Cas fans by being irrationally happy when Cas isn’t in key episodes because I can see him so clearly in the negative space that his absence basically forms its own overshadowing presence instead. 

When I have rambled on about negative space in the past, it is almost always connected to MOTW episodes following some big DeanCas drama, and on the surface level, people have moaned about how the Cas mention wasn’t enough, or Dean hasn’t acknowledged him or something like that.

Well, this episode is no exception. But this episode IS different in that this episode textually calls out the lack of Cas blatantly within it’s script. Which is just some next level self awareness from this show that I am amazed by.

The entire first three episodes of this season spiralled around this DeanCas tension and drama which us Destiel shipping meta writers could barely believe we were watching since it is practically unheard of for this show to set its emotional A plot around Dean and Cas rather than Sam and Dean. But that is what Dabb has done. When that tension came to its climax in 15x03′s final scene, it was well speculated that 15x04 would understate the DeanCas break up due to the episodes being filmed out of order and therefore Jensen not knowing exactly the impact of the break up when he filmed his scenes for this episode. 

Well, we were certainly right that it was understated, with Dean basically burying his feelings in denial and work and food and drink. Until Chuck started writing and therefore took control back of the script, Dean was eating or drinking in practically every single scene. As he is well known for using food and alcohol has coping mechanisms when spiralling into a dark mindset. Other than these key clues, Dean doesn’t mention Cas once. So we can speculate that he hasn’t told Sam what happened, and probably made up some excuse about Cas leaving so that Sam wasn’t concerned. Though no doubt we will find out the extent of what Sam knows fairly soon.

On a surface level, DeanCas shippers and Cas fans have a right to be somewhat upset by this lack of acknowledgement of Cas, even though it is perfectly in character for Dean to bury his feelings in denial and distractions. But beneath the surface this meta masterpiece of an episode was so full to bursting with Cas it left me very happy. Lets go through the key Cas positive areas:

1. The AU world vision of Sam’s that opens the episode is dark and depressing and indicates a world in which Sam's demon blood obsession got the better of him, which was a season 4 story arc (which we all remember as Cas’s introductory season), and yet Benny appears as Dean’s right hand man, a season 8 story arc founded in Purgatory (which we all relate heavily to Cas). Castiel is mysteriously absent from this vision though, even though the two key story lines here in the OG world heavily revolved around Cas. The question has to be asked, in fact the entire vision demands we ask it, just as Becky points out later: Where is Cas? This AU world is sure to appear later in the show, and I have a feeling Castiel’s absence will be explained.

2. Becky’s house - The crew clearly had a lot of fun filling this set with fan made merchandise (and what a wonderful way to reward your fanbase by including their creations in the show itself?). As a Cas girl my eagle eyes were mainly looking for any Cas merch and I was not disappointed. In fact there wasn’t a single scene in Becky’s house where a Cas figure of some kind wasn’t in frame. Whether that was Jensen’s decision or not, it makes me very happy. I talk here about the specific arrangement of Cas merch paired up with Dean merch which blatantly proves Becky is a Destiel shipper). In fact, Cas looms in the background in every scene until Cas sits down at the end to write his tragic ending when the camera pans to the Winchester funko pops bobbing like puppets. Cas is jarringly absent from that scene which only further indicates that he has been overlooked and is therefore still free of Chuck’s manipulations.

3. “No one even mentions Cas” - Obviously this was the line that pulls everything else together. For this to be said in an episode in which the very complaint actually occurs is a whole other level of self awareness and by including it the writer is of course reminding the audience to question this very thing. Like with the first scene, like with every moment that Sam and Dean are on screen together stubbornly not mentioning Cas or the extremely dramatic emotional break up scene at the end of the last episode, this line links everything together and forces the audience to keep Cas at the forefront of their mind.

4. The Bro Melodrama scene - As I mentioned above, this whole scene feels like the brothers are reading from a script and going through the motions but particularly Dean, whose stubborn refusal to mention Cas when he says “ We do it for Jack, for mom, for Rowena. We owe it to everyone whose ever given a damn about us to keep putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what.” it feels so intentional that they have left him out here. Thanks to that one line from Becky, the lack of Cas mention is impossible to ignore. He is so present in the negative space that its like a brick to the face. There is no way that there isn’t an agenda here regarding Castiel.

5. Castiel as the self sacrificing father - The second most glaringly obvious mirror in the episode after the son that mirrors Jack, the father of the vampire boy was far too ready to be killed by the Winchesters if it meant saving his sons life. Neither Sam nor Dean ever willingly offered themselves up for Jack, but we as the audience know all too well that Cas did in one of the most heartbreakingly emotional moments of Season 14. In an episode where the Winchesters stubbornly refuse to mention Cas (though Dean’s drinking on the job and overeager consumption of meaty food are a good indicator of his repressed feelings), Cas forces his presence on them anyway. It is a clear indicator of how close and important Cas is to the story that it is impossible for the boys to ever really forget about him, and I suspect that this will start to eat at Dean very soon.

6. Chuck overlooks the most powerful player - What ties in everything I have mentioned above already about Cas in the negative space, is Chuck. Because the whole point of this episode is that whilst he argues with Becky - the avatar for an inclusive healthy fandom that clearly adores Castiel and surrounds themselves in his image - we are left watching a stale and relatively boring MOTW episode where the Winchesters really do act like nothing more than shallow two dimensional bronly versions of themselves - because that’s what Chuck forces them to be. Chuck, who sits down and types with his Sam and Dean puppets metaphorically shaking with fear as they are condemned to live under his pen once again. It isn’t an accident that in a house surrounded with Cas merch no matter where you look, the one time his image isn’t in frame is that all important last shot - an indication that whilst Sam and Dean may now be under Chuck’s control, Castiel is not. Therefore Castiel’s importance in freeing the boys from Chuck’s villainous tragic ending becomes elevated. This episode symbolically makes Castiel the catalyst for true free will - after all, Castiel himself finally took control of his life and his mental health last week when he chose to walk away. In an episode where his presence in the negative space couldn’t be more obvious - he is the metaphorical elephant in the room - I can’t help but wonder just what role he has to play in Chuck’s vision, because right now it seems Chuck has simply forgot about him. A terribly foolish thing to do given everything Castiel has proven to be capable of.

OVERALL

As a quick summary, I’ll say I loved this episode and everything about it. Even the puppet bronly Winchesters because they were so clearly framed as being wrong. It’s such a hopeful episode, that indicates a hopeful non tragic inclusive TFW ending at least. Chuck is the villain and he will be beaten in the end. Dean and Cas will reunite and it will be the kind of scene that will rip all our hearts out in its emotional investment. Jensen Ackles directed an episode that threw major shade at the Bronly fandom corners, that celebrated TFW inclusivity through the reformed healthy successful fangirl Becky. That villainised the dark tragic brother only ending. This was a thoroughly validating and satisfying episode for me as a meta writer to watch. It has elevated my hope for the rest of the season, and following the incredibly emotional Destiel break up scene that held the focus of the last episode, I can’t stop myself from feeling joy just knowing that right now, everything that I watch this show for, all the things I adore about it, are the same things the writers of this show enjoy and are making the focal points for the series.

This isn’t a show for people that only care about seasons 1-3. This isn’t a show for people who hate Cas. This isn’t a show for people who fetishise the dark, depressing tragic game of thrones style brother ending. This is a show for people like me. Who actually enjoy it and celebrate it and can’t wait to see what happens next.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Private Chat Log - Oct 23

After Katsu approached Alastor to attempt to make a deal, Alastor immediately ran off to tell Alastor—who’d only just recently been temporarily bound by Katsu’s mother. And this Alastor doesn’t trust Katsu’s sudden offer at all.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 You'll never guess whose son just came to me, asking to make a very peculiar deal!

radio-daemon Oh?? Is this a game to be played because my chin is resting delicately in my palms!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Just a warm-up round, so do forgive me for giving away that the answer is your friend Meredith Crowley.

🎶 Now here's the real question: why in the world would her son suddenly want to bargain with me?

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 His offer: one of his soul fragments that's been trained to do magic tricks. His request: that I do something to improve Hell, provided that I explain the bargain and my own proposed action to either Vaggie or Charlie and receive their approval. It's an absurd bargain—particularly considering that he has no dog in the fight! He stands to gain nothing! He has no material reason to make the bargain!

🎶 Which leads me to suspect he somehow stands to gain from the act of making the bargain itself! But what do you think, me?

radio-daemon Hmm hmm hmm.. 🎙

radio-daemon To offer a fragment of a soul is it not his own, to improve an afterlife that he won't see and has no ties to him whatsoever seems suspicious and enticing! Nothing to gain and nothing to lose, nothing that happens affects him in the slightest. 🎙

You get to determine what "improving Hell" means in this context? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Mostly but not entirely! It has to meet one or the other lady's approval, with their knowledge of the bargain behind it. Of course, even if he has no ulterior motive, that alone makes the bargain worthless! Neither one of them would agree to the sale of even a partial soul unless the gain far outstrips their own guilt at approving the trafficking of a fragment of a human—which means the only deal they'd approve is a bad one for me! No thank you!

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 I have no interest in taking the bargain—the mere effort it would take to find something one of them would approve of is far more of a chore than a partial soul is worth, never mind whatever task I'd have to do after that! No, my interest in this bargain is not in taking it, but in figuring out why it was proposed at all.

radio-daemon And the righteous nativity of making Hell a better place strikes a bone in me with glee I had long forgotten possible. 🎙

A noble ideal misplaced and if I were a betting dæmon, I'd be led to believe young Katsu here thinks Alastor a fool that just salivates at the idea of a bargain like we're unable to resist ourselves. 🎙

The fragment of a soul is worth a fragment of a deal. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Too true! I'd plant a tree for a fragment of a soul, and I'd outsource the labor at that.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 But is it mere idealism—coming from the son of the one who just recently tried to bind you? The fact that he has fragments of souls to offer means he has a means to break fragments off of souls. Is the bargain, perhaps, an innocent-looking ruse to get an alternate of his mother's foe close enough for him to work his magic on?

radio-daemon And to offer a piece of a soul to take a venturing jaunt into making Hell a better place somehow seems quite the counterintuitive measure! Particularly insulting in the gall that it offers but pleasantly curious in the game that it plays. 🎙

radio-daemon And the little human with the fragments seems to stack all the cards in his favor openly, knowing Hell that of irredeemable finality. Either a fool sent on a task unable to be completely completed, or a charlatan, assuming you aren't as clever as you are. 🎙

You said it had to be approved by Charlie and Vaggie, am I understanding that right? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Charlie or Vaggie, he said. One or the other. I don't see either of them offering leniency in what they would approve, though! One's too idealistic and the other's too suspicious!

radio-daemon Yes indeedy! Even a fragment too cumbersome and to present would be to our yourself. Have you told the young ladies about Katsu's offer at all? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 No—I see no reason to get them involved in a deal I have no interest in taking! It would only encourage them to go get his side of the story.

radio-daemon Very true indeed! Then it seems young Katsu hasn't quite grasped the proper etiquette of bargaining. Guess he inherented  it from his mother! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Oh? Did she make a poor bargain recently? I had wondered why she decided to target you, me. A dissatisfied customer?

radio-daemon Indeed!! Broke the rules of a game being played and tried to bargain up in fact. When her hand was pushed she got belligerent! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Very poor conduct! Hence her retaliation against you, I take it.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Is this game concluded, or ongoing? If the former, perhaps she'll be satisfied with her petty revenge! If the latter... well, I worry whether she might make a second effort to forcibly break off the game early.

radio-daemon Can't imagine she'd try again and practice to another, at that point seems ignorant to try and cross every version of the same dæmon, tricks eventually stop working. 🎙

And for Katsu to try? No no no, he went to you knowing that going to me would elicit a reaction from mother dearest. But involving her son and two of us? 🎙

Has young Katsu made this attempt public by chance? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Our two planes of reality seem far more closely entangled than most—it’s so much easier to walk from one to the other than it is for most dimensions. Perhaps she thinks taking out one of us necessitates taking out both of us? Or perhaps they mean me no harm, but he hopes to get some estimate of my powers through an up close analysis and pass that info on to his mother to use against you? You can learn a lot about a man from his handshake!

🎶 Not that’s been brought to my attention, but I confess he’s not one of the people whose broadcasts I’ve been keeping a close ear on. But I doubt he’s had a chance—I came to you immediately after speaking to him.

radio-daemon Perhaps glean information from one you have no qualm with to best handle the one you do? Oh oh, the trickiness comes in which moment seems likely! But without an accepted deal, there isn't much to gain bargain. What good what come from that deal? That I'm curious of.. 🎙

A handshake indeed! Indeed you do, but you have to reach with the right hand first!! 🎙

Perhaps then.. I'll go listen in on his frequency myself. Find out what plan he plays!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 A wise idea! And if I hear any more from him, I'll let you know. Perhaps I won't, as long as I don't contact him again about his proposed deal... but perhaps he'll be calling into my show again to find out why he hasn't heard back from me. We'll find out with time.

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Fifty-nine “With time...”

Hello , how are you? Here is chapter Fifty-nine of my Story Bodyguard, yay!! I hope you will like this chapter. Sorry for not posting last week... 

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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- A glass of champagne, sir?

- No, thanks, I stay with orange juice, I answer, pointing to my glass, still half-full, in my hand.

The third server that I dismiss since we arrived at this reception of the nominees at the awards.

A furtive eye to my watch reminds me that we have been here for more than an hour.

But time seems much longer to me… if there is one thing that I do not appreciate in my job, it is these receptions of convenience where the big family of showbiz finds themselves in a still heavy atmosphere, where hypocrisy and personal interest mingle.

A familiar sound reaches my ears and I discover Amelia, a few steps from me, laughing at a joke from Andrew, present at her side.

For this reception, I had informed her that I would stay slightly behind.

To avoid her having too many questions about me, I preferred that she did not have to explain herself constantly about my presence and that she did not reveal to too many people who I was…

However, I was very focused: attentive to each person who approached her and each silhouette who did, if only to touch her.

I applied to the letter one of the basic guidelines of my profession: do not take your eyes off her…

- Hard to detach from the show, right?

A teasing voice awakens on my left and a glance on the side reveals me, Meredith, smiling and adorned with a sober black evening dress, the eyes also riveted towards Amelia.

- Can you help me monitor to rest my eyes if you want? I answer by bouncing on the teasing that she expresses to me.

With her new role as manager, I had quickly become closer to Meredith and a certain complicit had naturally settled between us.

- I don’t want to spoil your pleasure, she bids with a smile. Joke aside, you will see that Amelia has attracted certain glances, stay on your guard. It’s impressive how she can capture light and attention in a room… without her having the slightest awareness.

- It’s perhaps the most dangerous thing that she doesn’t necessarily realize.

- It is intimately linked to her nature. With her story, she suffers from a chronic lack of self-confidence… in her job… in her personal life… I don’t know who will be able to cure her of this weakness, but he will have my eternal gratitude.

Her last words are spoken in a calm voice but in a weaker tone, which leads me to listen carefully to perceive her words beyond the music echoing in the room.

As if she shares a secret with me.

Confidence.

Or a hope…

I try not to read more than is necessary for this remark and content myself with nodding without replying.

- I understand that tonight you stay away. To let her enjoy this moment. And avoid questions. But tomorrow, I only want to see you in one place: by her side… on the red carpet… near the stage… if he tries something, it’s probably during the ceremony.

- Don’t worry, Meredith. Tomorrow, I will be near her as far s the protocol allows me… and I will always be close to intervening.

- I do not worry… if Richard trusted you, I know you are the best. I’m just trying to remind you that you also have to know how to erase the distance when it’s necessary… when it’s the right time…

I feel her hand lay furtively on my arm, then a breath of air rises on the side as she moves away.

——

I turn my head a few moments to follow Meredith’s silhouette with a look, puzzled again after her last words… as for the chance of my observation of a few faces in the room, a very familiar facies appears to me.

Memories of a nightmare night invade my mind.

He looks proud and arrogant just a few steps from me.

This charming and self-confident air.

He’s the same man… the one who represents everything I hate…

I perceive a tension taking hold of me, as he advances in the room, approaching dangerously Amelia… henceforth alone, Andrew had left his place at her side.

I suddenly notice that his approach is becoming more assured: he is moving precisely towards the singer.

Like a predator having spotted its prey.

I immediately forget my guideline to stay away and join Amelia, at the precise moment when he approaches her.

- Mark… good evening, Amelia says, a discernible unobtrusive embarrassment in her response.

- It’s nice to see you, how are you? He inquires with a false innocent air.

I meet Amelia’s gaze, once at her height, before placing my attention on the intruder.

- She is doing very well… much better than the last time she saw you… I answer firmly.

A heavy silence settles for a few seconds.

Seconds when I look at Mark.

Seconds when he easily retains his proud and detached appearance.

- Mark, I think you better go talk to someone else, Amelia replies then, breaking the silent duel that had settled between us.

- I just wanted to greet you, and wish you good luck for tomorrow, he resumed, detaching his gaze from mine and directing a cheerful smile towards the singer.

- Well, you can consider it done…

He observes Amelia for a few seconds, surprised by her evenness and undecided on her reaction.

- I thought we could also talk about this duo project that I have already mentioned in the past with your staff, he continues, stammering slightly.

- Fine, what did you want us to discuss? Amelia continues in a softer voice, with a thin smile.

Her answer takes me by surprise: I expected a sharp reply from her, and not a cordial opening to discuss this project. Mark smiles widely, savoring this small victory and glancing at me, before speaking again.

- We could start by exchanging our availability to work on the song? Share song models we might already have?

- Yes, let me think… answer Amelia thoughtfully. Well… come back in 30 years and I may have a quarter of an hour to devote to you… in the meantime, I advise you to waste your time with your usual bimbos, as long as one of them can align two notes… or read three lines.

I spontaneously laugh at Amelia’s reply, completely unexpected. 

Mark’s face immediately breaks down when he realizes that the singer has been playing with him for the last minute.

She dips her lips in her glass of champagne, watching her victim, with a falsely innocent look on her features.

- Make fun of me, Amelia… but tomorrow, I’m sure you will laugh less when you come back empty-handed… Mark says with a frank disdain in his words, like a snake spitting its venom.

He immediately goes away and quickly disappears behind the silhouette of the many guests present.

- You scared me, I didn’t see you coming… and neither did he visibly, I say, once Mark is out of our sight.

- It was much more enjoyable than if I shattered all his hopes from the start, right?

- He loved it, I said, smiling slightly, Amelia laughing briefly by my side.

- Bodyguard and funny with that, you found the rare pearl, Amelia!

A voice rises a few steps from us and we recognize Jo, dressed in a short black leather dress, very precisely shaping her shape.

- Yes, there is only one like him, Amelia retorts, observing the host stand by our side.

- When do you allow him to return to the market? I hope you haven’t negotiated an exclusivity clause for 10 years…

- Owen is free to stop his mission whenever he wishes… I let you discuss your offer, Jo, I have a question for Meredith, Amelia suddenly announces, walking away to join her manager, in discussion with two other people.

- Amelia, you…

I do not have time to finish my sentence that she is already a few meters away… beyond my reach and my voice. An unexpected contact arises parallel against my arm… a hand of Jo resting firmly on the fabric of my jacket

- What does it take for me to suggest that you come to work for me?

My gaze remains fixed on Amelia: her reaction leaves me perplexed… and embarrasses me as she seems to encourage me to change my mission…

- Excuse me?

- Give me your conditions…

- My conditions?

- To be my bodyguard? Maybe it’s money?

I remain silent to her question, my attention still placed on Amelia, now talking with Meredith.

- From what I could see, you have been working for several months for Amelia… you are one of the best, if not the best from what I read about you, but also one of the bodyguards changing the most employer…

I redirect my attention to the host, surprised by the information she reveals… and the time she has visibly spent identifying me.

- I can offer you twice what she offers you… or is it something else? She asks in a soft and almost tempting voice.

- Listen, Jo, I say, looking at her. I’m not in the habit of negotiating a contract when I haven’t finished the current one… as I told you, I am not available… I protect Amelia until further notice… this is an open-ended mission…

- I will be patient in this case, I do not insist… this mission looks special…

- Thank you, I appreciate, I say, without echoing her remark.

- Reassure me, she said after a short break. You are not on 24 hours service here? You can take a break, forget the bodyguard… even for a few hours? She whispers when approaching me, until invading my personal space. 

- Uh… Owen… we can go, I got the details I expected from Meredith, announces timidly Amelia, back by our side. Unless you want to stay…

- Fine… ok… Let’s go, I answer still stunned by Jo’s question while taking a step to get closer to Amelia and guide her to the exit.

- Have a good evening Jo, the singer launches with a slight smile.

- Thank you… and Owen, concerning my last question, your availability will be mine, she specifies with a mysterious air.

——

- We can go back on foot, it’s not very far? Amelia offers, once we are outside. 

I nod, placing myself at her side in the wake of her steps.

The air is pleasant and still warm, despite the late hour.

I follow her, silently, for a few meters, when the direction she tales suddenly leaves me perplexed.

- Amelia, the hotel is just a little further at the end of the avenue, I inform her of pointing to the building already insight.

But the singer continues to advance and ends up bending over after a few meters to remove her heeled sandals… and put her bare feet in the sand.

- We can take a little detour, right? She finally announces, turning to me, shoes in the hand.

- I don’t know if it’s a good idea… I concede, walking in my turn on the fine sand of the beach, the sound of the waves echoing up to me.

- Look, there is nobody, Amelia specifies, running a few steps in front of her, before sitting in the sand, facing the sea.

I join her in a few strides, my shoes accompanying my suit are not the most practical in the sand; then sit down next to her.

I observe Amelia for a few seconds, looking at her from the side, while her attention is lost in front of her… on the immensity of this stretch of water facing us.

- It’s calm here… and melodious…

- Because you thought that the little reception we just left was not calm or melodious?

- Seen those we met there… not really, no… Amelia answers, smiling, her face turned to me.

The natural light of the stars above us maker her face shine.

Time seems to stop suddenly while I draw eyes with her face, facing me.

- Why are you still here, Owen?

Her question breaks my feeling elsewhere and out of time, as she scrutinizes me intensely.

- What? What are you talking about?

- Your words of earlier made me think… made me considerer your presence differently… you revealed to me that you never stayed very long on a mission… how long was your longest mission?

- 3 months, I answer, spontaneously, without thinking.

- And you’ve been protecting me for almost 6 months… Amelia says, surprised by the information she discovers.

6 months… I haven’t seen the time go by.

I forgot all my past precepts which pushed me to leave after a few months…. Because there was someone I wanted to protect more than anyone else… above all… myself.

- Why are you making an exception with me?

I stay in my thoughts for a few moments, realizing for the first time, that my biggest mistake is there… time is my biggest enemy… I let it pass… I got attached…

- You… you need me… with Richard’s death, the attacks on you… I couldn’t leave…

And I didn’t want to leave, continues my little inner voice.

Revealing my reel defeat.

That of staying too long with Amelia.

That of having let her gradually approach, breaking down my barriers.

- If you want to regain your freedom, don’t feel guilty… if you want to work for someone else…

- I’m here until the end… the time it will take for you to be safe… I confirmed to the singer.

- Until the end… what does that mean exactly? She questions again.

I pause, then objectively reveal the option.

- In my job, there are only two possibles outcomes… I arrest the man who wants to harm you, by putting him out of harm’s way…. Or I’m not the quickest to prevent him from acting… but I protect you while he is exposed… others who can finish the job…

- And the second alternative, how does it end? You with a bullet in the heart, in the head? Amelia asks with a hint of nervousness.

- He may opt for the bladed weapon, I resume smiling. Between us, I prefer. Bullets, it hurts like hell… I supplemented with a detachment to relax the atmosphere.

- How can you joke about this stuff? How could I wish you to be killed in my place?

- Amelia, that’s part of my job… I’m here for that if need be… take a bullet if it is for you…

- Well, I hadn’t realized it until now… and I’m not selfish enough to accept that you die through my fault…

- It won’t be your fault, and I’m consenting in this story. This job, I chose it. This mission, I accepted it. I’ll go all the way, fully aware of the risks.

The singer stares at me intensely, visibly destabilized by the exchange and the context in front of us… the threat is here, more real than ever.

- Aren’t you… aren’t you afraid of dying?

I laugh briefly at her question, looking away from hers, but I feel her attention kept on me. 

- Not really, no… I even wanted death at certain times in my life, you know… so be afraid of it… and fear is a dangerous feeling for my job… fear, it petrifies, it paralyzes… it blinds…

- Are you never afraid? She whispers weakly.

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Thank you for reading. Stay safe and have a great week 💛

[metanoiamorii]

11, 25, and 27!

Hi darling! I'm going to assume it's for the writer ask game, so here are those answers!

11) Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

This is going to sound really cheesy, but honestly my friends are my biggest influence.

Sure, growing up I was obsessed with the series of Narnia, who wouldn't be??? Narnia is kickass! Also Tolkien was a big influence for my fantasy. In a weird way, Sarah J. Maas and J.K. Rowling were a big influence.

Growing up on hardcore, traditional fantasy, it made me passionate as a very lonely kid, and I could craft all these stories to be less lonely. As with Sarah J. Maas, I'm not a fan of her, and I find her rather problematic; the same with J.K. Rowling. But due to that, I saw what kind of writer I didn't want to be.

But yeah, if it wasn't for my closest friends, I would have given up writing. My twin flame isn't on tumblr, but @notugalan is and they are one of the people who have kept me writing. I love them immensely.

25) Favorite part of writing

The creation!

I'm able to create something! Something I love, something others love! Something that can have an impact on someone.

I can make people feel something with a few words. I can make them think of something with a simple scene. I can influence people! And I want to be able to use that power do to good, to help people, and if possible, make them feel better and even get into writing.

27) Favorite line or scene

Gods I have a few, honestly? So ig I'll share a few excerpts with y'all. They'll all be from the same piece, because gods I love this piece. There's plenty of more, but I won't bombard everyone with them!

They’re licking their fingers and flipping the page, to the next chapter, when Elias is getting up and wandering over. An arm slung to the back of the chair and leaning forward. “What are you reading, Aella? It must be interesting….”

Quickly, Meris is shutting the book close and glaring up at the man. “It’s a book for my studies.” It’s a lie, but they say it with a straight enough face to make it believable… at least for an eleven year old.

“Uh huh.” Elias replies. “Which one is it, I don’t remember that cover….”

“It’s a new edition.” Again, Meris lies.

“Uh huh.” Elias replies again. “Which subject?”

Meris furrows their brow. “Math.”

“Really?” Elias nods. “What kind of math?”

“... Probability.” Meris says, shifting to hide the book beneath their thigh.

For some context why I love this scene so much: Aella is an eleven year old reading a smut book. And honestly, I just find it completely funny because... Who of us haven't pulled something like this, honestly?

On the walk home, Meris stops when a poster catches their attention. They stand on the back of their heels, dully staring at it. It takes a good minute for it to connect in their head: WANTED: for the crimes of Piracy, Assault, Bribery of Government Officials, Destruction of Property, Disturbance of Peace, and the Murder of Meredith Kyrie. Dead or Alive. Approach with caution. Captain Sandraudig of the Jagare. Seventy-five-thousand platinum reward...

That’s all that catches Meris’ attention. Namely, the mention of Father.

They don’t catch the man standing a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets and a cigarette between his lips. How he huffs and grumbles to himself, “should be fuckin’ higher…”

When they turn to furrow their brow and remark, he’s gone. Like they had imagined him…

Why do I love this scene so much? It has a GIANT impact on this wip. When reading it, you brush this incident off with Aella and almost forget about it until it plays in affect again here:

“I’m… I’m not… I’m not sorry…” They quietly mumble, staring forward. “I can’t… I can’t… I just can’t… That.. That means regretting this and I… I can’t…”

They feel a hand on their shoulder. The other hand is reaching for theirs, taking the dagger away from them; they don’t fight it. They don’t see it being handed back to its owner. In a huff and a grumble, to them, they hear, “you’ll have your own fuckin’ bounty now.” And… they blink. Through it all, they try to put the familiarity to it.

And to not be bombard anymore, just one more that really sticks to me. And gods I love this erratic bastard so much:

“What’s slavery?” The Spectral Stalker finally asks, with almost child-like innocence.

“I don’t… pardon?”

“What’s slavery?” They ask again. “Answer’s one word.” They give.

Elias furrows his brow. He looks to Tristan who just… shakes his head and shrugs. He looks back, hoping to save his own hide, answers, “it cannot be summarized by one word, I’m afraid…”

“Wrong!” They bite. “Answer’s murder!”

“I don’t..” Yes, sure. Slavery can be seen in levels of murder…. Itself wasn’t murder, though…

Waving their hands, everyone watches in, mostly, amusement as the Spectral Stalker elaborates. “Power of life, power of death; remove the brain, remove the mind; remove the will, remove the choice; remove the personality, remove the identity….” They idly tap at the side of their head, as they speak in a half formed ramble. Their head shakes, and they go back to gesturing their hands, waving the subject off; they gesture a finger directly into the man’s face. “... murder! You’re a murderer!”

I can't explain why I love it so much its just... You have to take your own take on it, I suppose?

[ren3gade]

Taking Bethany to the Circle

Most recently I’ve been chewing on the scene in Dragon Age 2 where Cullen arrests Bethany. My very favorite Cullen scenes are the ones where he’s mad about something, so of course I love this sequence.

This scene only happens if Hawke is not a mage, so Cullen is interacting with them as a fellow non-mage.

[Hawke arrives at home, sees Cullen speaking with Bethany]

Hawke: What’s going on?

Bethany: Please don’t do anything.

Cullen: Mistress Bethany is being taken to the Circle of Magi in the Gallows.

If Hawke gets aggressive with Cullen (”You’re not taking her!”) he rises to the occasion and Bethany quickly moves between them. This delicious little bit of melodrama sparked one of my more ambitious kinkfic ventures (an early characterization exercise was a Cullen who likes to, shall we say, wrestle). I suspect most players choose the red Hawke option and it is the option that makes the scene the most tense, but regardless of what choice you get two basic reprimands from Cullen for harboring a mage:

(That’s a death sentence!)

H: The Gallows is horrible! You can’t go there.

B: I have to. That’s where the apostates go, isn’t it?

C: Consider yourselves fortunate. The viscount has requested we spare your family the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage.

(Not to stay, I hope.)

H: A little tour is fine but this better not be permanent.

B: Of course it’s permanent. It had to happen eventually, didn’t it?

C: Consider yourselves fortunate. Her cooperation allows us to spare you the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage, this once.

(You’re not taking her!)

H: Over my dead body.

[Bethany moves between them]

B: It’s done. Don’t make it worse.

[Hawke shakes head, backs down]

C: Consider yourselves fortunate. Her cooperation allows us to spare you the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage, this once.

The game is intentionally vague as to whether Bethany turns herself in or the templars finally find themselves in a position to arrest an Amell.

The apparent diplomatic response, “The viscount has requested we spare your family the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage,” suggests a diplomatic Hawke may have closer ties to the Keep than other Hawkes. It’s also possible this dialogue triggers if you take certain actions in the Unbidden Rescue quest where Hawke is tasked with returning Dumar’s son, Saemus. I digress, that’s not a hypothesis I’m in a position to test at the moment. The line I really want to talk about is:

Cullen: Her cooperation allows us to spare you the punishment for harboring a dangerous mage, this once.

The voice acting on this is very interesting. Particularly the way Cullen says, “this once.” He emphasizes this and sounds disapproving. There is also a hint of warning in it.

There used to be a lot of comedy fanon on Tumblr about Cullen being clueless regarding Bethany/Hawke being a mage, but the in-game subtext makes it clear Cullen knows there is a mage in the party (and from the Doylian side, the devs knew there would likely be a mage in the party and wrote the dialogue accordingly). For those who miss the subtext, Cullen states it clearly in ambient dialogue in Act 1:

Cullen: I’ve been hearing interesting things about your sister, Hawke. I hope they’re not true.

As usual with DA2 you can take this in so many directions, but my first thought was Meredith Stannard. I believe (could be fanon, but I think it’s actual canon and will definitely share a source if I find it) Meredith tells Cullen the story of her sister Amelia, much as she later tells a pro-templar Hawke in Act 3. For those who missed it (probably most players) I reproduce it here:

(Why do you hate mages so much?)

Hawke: This grudge you have against mages seems very… personal.

Meredith: It is personal. My sister was a mage. She was a kind, gentle soul, and completely unprepared for such a burden. My family hid her. We knew she could never last in the Circle or pass their rigorous tests.

(You were protecting her.)

H: She was your family. What else could you do?

M: Amelia was terrified and utterly grateful for our efforts. We thought we were doing the right thing. And then she was possessed by a demon. My sister killed our family and I only barely escaped. Before the templars brought her down she had slain 70 innocents. So I understand perfectly well why the mages struggle. As well as why the laws we uphold are so vital.

Harboring a mage sibling is a direct parallel to Meredith’s experience, and it is easy to see why both Cullen and Meredith would be angry about it. Cullen’s reprimand also suggests he’s not pleased that Hawke has been skirting the Order’s, and by extension the Chantry’s, authority, and the implicit warning is Hawke needs to remember who’s in charge here.

Cullen may canonically respect or even like Hawke, but there are a lot of tensions here, even if Hawke is not a mage.

We can then pile on the political layers. If the templars have Bethany, they have leverage over a non-mage Hawke, much in the way the templars already have leverage over a mage Hawke. The templars make exceptions, both for Hawke and for Anders, but not for Bethany, which I find notable though the Doylian reasons are clear. This is where fanon comes in, and you can spin it in a dozen interesting directions.

I think I will never tire of this game.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke smut: A Proper Dinner Party For Adults

Okay. This was just an excuse to write some canon-universe PWP from Rynne Hawke’s POV. It’s set a few weeks after Rynne and Fenris finally reunite in Act 3. You know those first few weeks/months in a new relationship when you’re so crazy about your partner and all you want to do is have sex constantly? Yeah, that.

For @dadrunkwriting Friday. NSFW. ~6300 words. Read here on AO3 instead.

*********************

Rynne was horny. 

This in itself wasn’t a surprise. Rynne had always been a lusty sort of girl, and harbouring several years’ worth of unrequited passion for an unavailable man only seemed to have reinforced her urges. 

But she and Fenris had been together for almost three weeks now, and they’d been fucking at least twice a day ever since. With how much time they’d been spending twisted together in bed, Rynne thought the constant itch would have lessened a bit by now.

Instead, the opposite seemed to have happened. Instead of a rose-coloured memory of a single blissful night gone wrong, Rynne now had several weeks’ worth of memories of Fenris’s hands on her body. She knew exactly how well his elegant fingers could push her to her peak and just how beautifully his face could twist when he was finding his pleasure. She knew the exact scent that his sweat-laced body left on the bed, and in those moments when he left the bed to fetch a drink or to use the bathroom, Rynne would shamelessly bury her face in his pillow for the sheer pleasure of enjoying the sweet sleepy smell of his hair marking her sheets. 

She couldn’t stop marvelling at how gorgeous he looked all naked and sated in her rumpled bed. She couldn’t get over the faintly bitter taste of his climax as it flowed down her throat. Rynne was useless, besotted, completely tied around his lyrium-lined little finger, and if she could have it her way, she and Fenris would stay hidden away in her bedroom fucking each other’s brains out for the foreseeable future, thank you very much. 

Unfortunately, Rynne couldn’t have it her way. Orsino and Meredith had each sent a messenger to her house this morning, and when she finally dragged her cranky ass down the stairs, it was to find a frankly alarming pile of letters on her writing desk.  

She wrinkled her nose and turned to Orana, who was hovering at her elbow with a cup of tea. “I have a brilliant idea. Let’s start throwing these straight in the fireplace from now on.”

Orana’s jaw dropped in shock. “A-are you sure, Mistress Hawke?”

“It’s just Hawke, Orana,” Rynne said absently. “And yes, I’m sure. I’m almost certain that none of them are important.” She picked up a letter at random. “Look at this one, for example. It’s… oh, it’s from the bank. Never mind.” She gave Orana a sickly smile. “Letters stay on the table, I suppose.”

“If you say so,” Orana said cautiously. She gave Rynne the tea and hurried away. 

Rynne sighed and gingerly sipped the steaming tea. She listlessly started sorting the letters by importance, and she was trying to wrack up the courage to open the one from the bank when Fenris’s voice drifted down the stairs. 

“Sorting your mail, are you?” he said. “That’s very responsible.” He joined her at the desk and picked up her cup of tea.  

She bit her lip. Fenris was standing just behind her, not quite touching but close enough to touch if she leaned back just a little bit. His lovely sexy voice was warm with humour, and his beautiful emerald eyes were smiling at her over the rim of the cup. 

Maker’s balls, she wanted to go back upstairs. Could they go back upstairs? Wasn’t it enough that she’d sorted the mail? She didn’t need to actually read it, did she?

He quirked one eyebrow at her lack of reply, and she forced herself to breathe. “How dare you imply I’m anything less than responsible?” she quipped. “I am the epitome of responsible. Just ask Carver.”

He scoffed and set down the cup. “You don’t really want me to ask Carver.”

Rynne mock-pouted at him. “Of course I don’t. Now you’ve gone and called my bluff.” 

He chuckled, and Rynne swallowed hard. The sound of Fenris’s laugh had always made her heart skip a beat, but now she knew that laugh in a different context. She knew it as a purr against her ear when she was begging for his touch, and she knew the irresistible breathless chuckle that he preserved for the tender moments of their afterglow. His laugh was ruined now, ruined in the most wonderful possible way, and Rynne wasn’t sure she could hear it anymore without immediately wanting to strip off her clothes. 

“What?” he said. He rubbed his nose. “Is there something on my face?”

Oh balls, she’d been staring at him. She quickly shot him a coy smile. “There sure is,” she said, and she popped up onto her tiptoes and planted a noisy kiss on his lips. “Now come on, let’s go to the market and see how my most terrible investment is panning out.” 

He clicked his tongue as they made their way toward the door. “I can’t understand why you don’t sell your shares on the Bone Pit back to Hubert. That cursed place reeks of death.” 

She playfully chucked his chin. “Aw, you don’t enjoy our little day trips out there?”

He raised one eyebrow as they made their way through the bustling Hightown street. “I never have. You know that.”

“And yet you always come with me anyway,” she said shrewdly.

He shrugged. “I enjoy following you.”

Rynne stopped and gaped at him. Had he really just said something so bold? And in public, no less?

He smirked at her, and the sly look on his face was just… it was too much. She was already struggling to keep her hands off of him, and now he was smirking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking, and she couldn’t help it: she burst into laughter. 

She laughed and laughed and couldn’t stop fucking laughing, and soon Fenris was smiling too, but in a bemused sort of way. “Was it that funny?” he asked.

“No, no,” she gasped. “Not funny, I – I loved it. I’m not really laughing-laughing, I just…” She took a deep and shaky breath, then looked him in the face. “Oh fuck it, let’s go back to the house.”

His eyebrows leapt up. “Wha– why? We only just left.”

She took a step closer to him and grabbed his chestplate. “Because Fenris, I just want to–”

“Hawke.” 

At the sound of Aveline’s voice, Fenris stepped slightly away from her – much to Rynne’s disappointment. She shot him a wry look, then turned to Aveline with a smile. “Av! What brings you to this dreadfully fancy part of town? Have the Coterie managed to purchase a mansion hideout in the heart of Hightown?”

“No. Report of a robbery, and I’m shortstaffed,” Aveline said briskly. “But I’m glad I caught you. Did you get my letter?”

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “Letter? What letter?” 

Aveline gave her a reproving look. “I sent you an invitation a week ago.” 

Rynne stared at her in growing confusion. “An invitation to what?” She grimaced. “Please tell me it isn’t some fancy political dinner thing. I can only stomach so many pleasantries before I want to jam a corkscrew into my own eye.”

Beside her, Fenris let out a tiny cough. Aveline, meanwhile, was frowning more deeply by the second. “Donnic and I are hosting a dinner party,” she said.

“Why?” Rynne asked.

Fenris snorted softly, and Rynne grinned at him. This, of course, turned out to be a mistake; Fenris was smirking again, and Rynne adored his smirk and all the heat it contained, and all she really wanted to do was kiss those smirking lips of his–

Aveline’s reply regained Rynne’s flagging attention. “Because – well, because we thought it would be nice,” she said defensively. “You lot are always going to the Hanged Man, and you know how it looks for me to be seen there, Hawke. And I know your mansion is bigger, but Donnic and I have a perfectly nice home as part of the City Guard allowance…”

Damn, Rynne thought. She hadn’t meant to hurt Aveline’s feelings. “Of course, of course it’s a nice idea!” she said hurriedly. “It’s a lovely idea, Aveline, we’ll be happy to come! When is it?”

“Tonight,” Aveline said flatly. 

Double fucking damn, Rynne thought desperately. She didn’t want to go to a dinner party tonight. The only thing she wanted to eat these days was Fenris’s cock.

She forced herself to maintain a bright smile. “Tonight! Fantastic! That’s great!” she said. 

Thankfully, Fenris stepped in and saved her from her own over-enthusiasm. “Shall we bring anything?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Fenris,” Aveline said somewhat pointedly. “You can bring a side dish. Donnic is making roast beef and potatoes. Varric and Sebastian are bringing sides as well, and Anders is bringing wine. Merrill said she’d bring something for dessert.”

“I’ll bring my famous punch,” Rynne offered.

“No,” Aveline said firmly. “Your punch is not invited.”

Rynne gazed at her in genuine surprise. “What? Why not? What kind of party is this without punch?”

“A proper dinner party for adults, Hawke,” Aveline said. “Which we all are, in case you needed reminding.”

Fenris turned away and scratched his nose, and Rynne couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d either start laughing again or she’d say something filthy, and Aveline’s opinion of her was clearly dropping with every passing moment.

Rynne waved dismissively. “Of course! That makes sense. Adult dinner party, Donnic’s lovely cooking, Merrill’s cake. It sounds wonderful. We’ll be there!” She nodded pertly.

Aveline eyed her suspiciously, then nodded and stepped away. “Come for five o’clock. And don’t be late.”

Rynne blinked innocently. “Me, be late? Never!” She saluted Aveline. “Guard-Captain.”

Aveline gave her a tiny smile, then waved and walked away. As soon as she was out of earshot, Fenris leaned in close to Rynne’s ear. “A party without punch? I wonder whether you’ll survive the night.”

She shivered. His lovely voice was quiet but laced with laughter, and the mere sound of it sent a pulse of heat down her throat and into the base of her belly. 

She turned and stepped close to him. “The real question is how I’m going to survive a night of sitting next to you and not being able to stroke that lovely cock of yours.”

He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, then darted a quick look around the street. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

She smiled slowly. “Can you show me?”

His eyebrows rose. “Show you what? My… blushing?”

“Yes,” she purred. “Every last blushing inch of you.” She leaned into his chest and curled her fingers against his abdomen.

She waited eagerly as his face shifted from surprise to something much more heated. She lifted her chin in invitation, then watched avidly as the tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. 

“What about Hubert and the Bone Pit?” he asked. His voice was quiet: an intimate near-whisper, like the kind of voice he would use while murmuring to her in bed. 

She pressed herself more firmly against his chest. “Fuck Hubert and the Bone Pit,” she breathed. “Actually, I take that back. I’d much rather fuck you.”

His eyes darted up to meet hers, and Rynne stared breathlessly at him. Then he placed his hand on her hip.

Her breath left her in a sharp sigh. It was so innocuous, really: just the touch of his hand – the mere resting of his palm on her hip. It shouldn’t be affecting her this way; it shouldn’t be raising the pulse at her throat or bringing a thrill to life between her legs. It was just his hand, after all. She’d been groped more firmly than this during the first ten seconds of stepping into the Hanged Man.

But this wasn’t some random smelly drunk; this was Fenris. This was Fenris’s hand on her hip while they were standing in public. Public touching – or any touching outside of the bedroom, really – was something he was still getting used to. But here he was, touching her in public, placing his hand on her body in an affectionate matter right here in the middle of the street… 

Rynne was so fucking thrilled that she almost leapt on him on the spot.

He tilted his face closer to hers, and she stopped breathing altogether. “Back to your house it is, then,” he whispered.

She pulled in a breath, then beamed at him. “Good,” she murmured. “That’s all I really wanted, anyway.”

Two minutes later, they were back in her mansion. Five minutes after that, they were naked in her bed. Fenris was pressing her hands into the mattress while his cock slid through the creamy heat between her legs, and Rynne was staring at his parted and panting lips in a deliriously happy haze. 

Well, at least she’d tried to leave the house today. That had to count for something, right?

****************

Later that evening, Rynne scuffed her feet sheepishly as she and Fenris walked away from Aveline’s house. 

She glanced sideways at Fenris and chewed her lip uncertainly. His expression was very neutral, and he hadn’t said a word since Aveline had told them in exasperation to go home. 

The evening had started out well enough. She and Fenris had had sex twice that afternoon in addition to their usual morning fuck, and by the time they’d arrived at Aveline’s house fifteen minutes late – very good by Rynne’s standards – she was feeling quite confident that she’d be able to make it through the evening without getting overly, er, distracted. 

Everyone had seemed pretty stilted when Rynne and Fenris first walked in – not surprising to Rynne, given Aveline’s agenda of a so-called ‘adult party’. So Rynne had provided a little social lubrication by picking a topic at random to talk about. “Did you all notice it’s a full moon?” she said cheerfully. “Funnily enough, this is the best time to pick blood lotus. The moonlight brings out its aphrodisiac properties.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Merrill blinked. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Rynne winked at her. “It’s a useful tip, that. Store it away for later.”

Merrill tittered, but Aveline sighed. “You and that pirate wench. It’s always got to be something dirty with you two, hasn’t it?”

Rynne widened her eyes. “Why Aveline, I didn’t know you saw potion-making as a kink.”

Anders and Merrill laughed, and Aveline rolled her eyes. Then Fenris spoke up, and in Rynne’s opinion, that was where the trouble began.

“We could talk about religion or politics,” he said. “Those topics are never controversial.”

His tone was very dry and extremely appealing, and Rynne gazed dreamily at the tiny hint of a smirk on his lips.

Sebastian tutted playfully. “Are you looking to start a war in Aveline’s house?” he said to Fenris.

Anders huffed. “Maybe we should talk about magic while we’re at it. That’ll really start a war.” 

To Rynne’s surprise and delight, Fenris didn’t rise to the obvious bait; instead, he leaned back on the couch and swirled his wine glass. “And maybe you should bring finer wine next time you’re invited to someone’s home.”

There was a general ooh of appreciation at Fenris’s remark, and Varric smirked at Anders. “Better find yourself some elfroot for that burn, Blondie.”

Merrill blinked at her glass. “Is the wine bad? I didn’t notice.”

Donnic eyed his glass apprehensively. “It does smell a little off. Where did you say you got this, Anders?”

They continued to tease Anders about the wine, and Rynne tried to pay attention and join in like she usually did, but her attention kept drifting back to Fenris. 

He wasn’t even doing anything provocative, for fuck’s sake. But Rynne’s enamoured brain couldn’t stop translating his every move into something more erotic. Every time his fingers ran along the stem of his wine glass, she couldn’t help but imagine those fingers trailing softly along the line of her throat. When he lifted the glass to his lips, all she could think about was the feel of his lips caressing the heat between her legs. He smiled at something Varric said, and all she could see was the tender curl of his smile as he pushed her down on the bed and crawled onto the mattress to join her. 

Rynne tried to be a good guest at Aveline’s dinner party. She made clever comments when the others spoke to her, and she laughed when everyone else was laughing, but she couldn’t stop watching Fenris. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth when he was speaking, and she couldn’t stop thinking about those evocatively gesturing hands stroking her skin. When he ran his hand absently through his hair, she couldn’t stop imagining her own fingers sinking into his soft snow-white hair as he dragged his teeth over her nipple–

“Can we go home and fuck now?” she asked him.

His head whipped up in surprise – in all fairness, everyone’s heads whipped up at her words – and Rynne instantly wanted to punch herself. Fuck, fuck, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hawke, in the name of all that’s holy…”

She grimaced, but it wasn’t really Aveline’s reaction she was concerned about; it was Fenris’s. He was staring at her in silence, and his eyes were wide with surprise, and Rynne was feeling guiltier by the second. It was one thing to make playful lewd comments to Fenris when they were just friends and she could hide it under the guise of flirting with everyone, but things were different now. She and Fenris were together now – blissfully, wonderfully together –  and their relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but Fenris was so private about his personal matters.

She waited in agony for him to react. When he didn’t, she turned to Aveline with a smile. “So! That new guard rotation you put in place the other day. That’s sounding very, er, fascinating. Can you tell me–”

Aveline sighed loudly. “Just go, all right?

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “Eh?”

“Go home,” Aveline commanded. She shot Fenris a stern look. “You too. We’ll try this again when you’re ready to be mature adults.”

And that was how Rynne and Fenris were unceremoniously evicted from Aveline’s dinner party. 

Rynne eyed him nervously as they made their way back to her mansion. He hadn’t spoken a word since her lusty exclamation, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his silence. She knew he wasn’t mad, per se; when Fenris was mad, he made sure she knew it. But that somehow only made his quiet all the more unnerving. 

There was nothing for it. If he wasn’t going to talk, then Rynne certainly was. “I hope you weren’t hungry,” she said. “Donnic’s cooking really did smell good. You remember how bad a cook he was when he and Aveline first started dating? Funny how married life seems to have turned him into a real domestic sort.”

Fenris nodded, but still didn’t speak. Rynne swallowed hard, then smiled at him more brightly still. “I don’t know about you, but I still remember that pie he made that one time for your weekly card game. You remember the one? It had blueberries and blue cheese in it for some unholy reason–”

He suddenly grabbed her arm. She squeaked in surprise, but before she could ask what was wrong, he was hustling her into the nearest alley. 

He trapped her against the dirty stone wall. “Stop talking,” he grunted.

She stared breathlessly at him. If this was any other context, she’d be delighted at the thought of being penned between Fenris’s lovely lean body and the wall. But his face was creased into a scowl and his chest was rising and falling quite heavily – oh no, was he mad at her after all?

She grimaced. “Fuck. Am I in trouble?”

“Yes,” he said. Then he shook his head roughly. “No. I… I’m…” He took a deep breath, then he surged forward and kissed her.

She instantly arched toward him. Her eager lips parted for him, and a shameless moan escaped her throat before he muffled it with his wine-flavoured tongue.

And his hands – Maker fucking save her: his hands were sliding down the small of her back to cradle her ass. Rynne tilted her pelvis toward him in a desperate bid for contact, and to her utter delight, Fenris pulled her closer with his hands on her ass. He pressed his hips into hers, and she broke their desperate kiss with a gasp as his hard bulge pressed against the vee of her thighs.

She swallowed convulsively before speaking. “So… so it seems I’m not the only dirty-minded idiot who’s preoccupied by the thought of us being naked and sweaty–”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he groaned. He nipped her lower lip, drawing another tiny gasp from her throat, then kissed her again and pushed his knee between her legs. 

Rynne broke from his mouth and dragged in a tremulous breath. Her hips were already rocking forward to meet his thigh, and his face was still twisted in a beautiful lustful scowl, and… Maker’s fucking balls, it would take another ten minutes for them to get home. A whole ten torturous minutes… 

“Fenris,” she whimpered. 

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Stop talking,” he whispered. “I can’t think when you are talking. I can’t… I can think of nothing but this.” He pulled her more firmly against his thigh.

Rynne pressed her lips together hard to quell another moan. Frankly, she was relieved by his admission. He was so well-behaved in public that she’d been half-worried that she was alone in her obsessive thoughts. 

She clasped his neck in her hands. “Me neither,” she breathed. “I can’t think of anything else either. I want you all the time, and everything you do turns me on–”

“Rynne,” he begged. “Stop. Talking.” He kissed her once more, and Rynne happily submitted to his lips and his hands on her neck and her butt – no, not her butt anymore, but travelling over her hip and up to her waist, and – and higher…?

His thumb stroked the edge of her bustier beneath her shirt, and it was too much: his hands over her clothes when she just wanted them stroking her skin? The tempting hint of heat from his palms, separated from her skin by the offensive barrier of her shirt? It was a waste, a waste of his hands and all the ways they could make her come undone, and she’d waited long enough. 

She dragged her lips away from his and arched her chest toward him. “Fuck me,” she whimpered. 

He exhaled hard. “Hawke…”

“Please, Fenris, fuck me,” she begged. She reached down and clumsily started unlacing her trousers. 

He grabbed her hands. “Stop,” he hissed. “Not here.”

“Please,” she whispered. “A quick one now, and when we get home I’ll treat you real nice, I promise.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, then let out a little laugh. “Festis bei umo canavarum,” he muttered. “You’re irrepressible.” 

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘insatiable’,” she purred, and she trailed her fingers down his chest. 

He grabbed her hand again. “Come,” he said, and he pulled her out of the alley. 

His bare feet were silent as they ran, leaving Rynne to hear the full cacophony of her own harsh breathing and her heart pounding in her ears. They pelted back to her house without talking, and by the time Rynne was shoving her key into the lock, she was so out of breath she nearly couldn’t speak. 

She wrestled the door open and stumbled inside. Fenris shut the door behind her and locked it, and before she had a chance to do more than take a breath, he was walking her backwards with those strong elegant hands of his on her hips. 

Fenris crowded her against the wall once more, and Rynne stared at him as she tried to catch her breath. There was a light glow of sweat on his nose, and his lips were parted as he fought for breath. 

She reached up and started unlacing her shirt. “You’re fond of this wall, aren’t you?”

His eyes flicked from her fingers up to her eyes. “Pardon?”

“This wall,” she said with a cheeky smile. “This was where you first kissed me. Remember?”

He exhaled slowly. “Of course I remember,” he said. “I could never forget.” 

Rynne grinned and finished loosening the laces of her shirt. Fenris gently pushed her hand aside and parted the neckline of her shirt, and when he ran his fingers lightly over the swell of her breast, she shuddered in anticipation. But then he spoke, and his words were serious and soft.

“This is not like before,” he said. “You are aware of that?”

She glanced at him. His expression was tender and a little bit melancholy. “What do you mean?” she asked breathlessly.

He tipped her chin up and looked her in the eye. “Everything that transpires between us now. It… it is not like before.” He licked his lips slowly. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking before. I came to you without thinking, and I wasn’t ready. But now…” He exhaled once more, then suddenly pressed himself against her.

He clasped her neck in both hands, and Rynne melted shamelessly into his body. He brushed her nose with his, then drifted his lips over her ear. 

“Now this is all I think about,” he whispered. “Stripping you bare, laying with you, the touch of your lips on mine, it’s… it is all I want, Hawke.” He stroked her neck with his thumbs. “If I could go back and show myself all that I was missing by forgoing all those years with you…” 

Her swollen heart was pounding with adoration now rather than exertion. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around him. “Your turn to shut up now,” she said. “No regrets, Fenris. Don’t think about before. Just be here with me now.” 

“I am,” he murmured. “I am right here.” He stroked her neck, then ran his knuckles over the swell of her breast, and Rynne panted fitfully as his fingers moved closer to the edge of the bustier cup without dipping inside. 

He lowered his head and dropped the softest kiss on her breast, and Rynne snapped. She roughly untucked her shirt and pulled it over her head, then threw it on the floor. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Fenris, I’ve been waiting long enough–”

He lifted her up abruptly, and Rynne hastily grabbed his shoulders as he walked them toward the stairs. A few seconds later, he shoved open her bedroom door and tossed her on the bed. 

“Take off your clothes,” he said. He turned away to close the bedroom door. 

Rynne eagerly obeyed his command, kicking off her slippers and fumbling with her trouser laces at the same time. “So bossy,” she purred. “I’ll listen to that bossy tone anytime.”

He turned back to her with a smirk and sauntered toward the bed. “Says the woman who has been making carnal demands of me all day.” 

She grinned at him. “If you don’t like my carnal demands, maybe you shouldn’t keep fulfilling them so well.” She lifted her hips and roughly pushed her trousers down, then hooked her thumbs into her smalls, but before she could tug them down as well, Fenris took her hands in his.

He pushed her hands aside and brushed his fingers over the damp fabric between her legs. A bolt of pleasure ran straight from the apex her thighs up to her throat, and she released it in a gasp of want. “Please,” she begged. “Touch me.” 

Fenris hummed thoughtfully. “More demands,” he mused. He carefully pulled the crotch of her smallclothes aside and smoothed his fingers through her slippery warmth.

She tensed and jerked her hips. His touch was so fucking gentle, just a light and careful petting of his elegant fingers, and every delicate pass of his fingertips seemed to lift the needy buzzing between her legs to an even higher pitch.

“Fenris, please,” she begged. “I want more.”

He chuckled – Maker save her from that beautiful laugh – then kneeled at the foot of the bed. “I’m doing as you asked,” he said. “I am touching you.”

She burst out a breathless laugh. “You horrible tease.”

He continued to pet her with a light and gentle touch.  “Persuade me, Hawke. You’re very good at that.”

He was smirking again, and he sounded so damned cocksure and smug. It would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so desperate. 

She sat up on her elbows and looked him in the eye. “I am hungry for you, Fenris,” she said baldly. “I don’t just want you. I fucking need you. I need you inside of me and touching me, and I swear I’m going to fucking fall apart if you don’t put those gorgeous hands–”

He pulled her smallclothes off and slicked his tongue between her legs. Rynne broke off with a cry of rapture, and Fenris ran his tongue along her flesh and up to the rapidly beating pulse point at the apex of her thighs.

Then his hands were moving too, smoothing along the insides of her thighs in a tender caress that complemented the torrid stroke of his tongue, and Rynne undulated toward him in a wordless bid for more. It all felt so fucking good, his mouth between her legs and his fingers gripping her thigh while his other hand slid up to rest on her belly, and it didn’t matter that she and Fenris had just finished doing this a few hours ago. It didn’t matter that the muscles of her inner thighs were perpetually sore from how often they’d been having sex. No matter how many times she had him, she always wanted more. 

That was the problem with Fenris: he was everything, everything Rynne had been wanting for so many years. And now that she had him here, with that smile and that fine lean body and that fucking laugh that she loved so much, she couldn’t get enough. 

He carefully lapped her clit and curled his fingers inside of her, and her climax tore through her body in a rapturous shiver. She spread her legs wide and cried out, her hips rolling toward his face as though to steal every last scrap of pleasure that his skillful tongue could provide, and when the tips of her toes were numb from the strength of her climax, she lowered her hips to the bed and sat up.

“Get naked,” she panted. “Right now.” Fenris was still fully clothed, and in Rynne’s opinion, covering that gorgeous body with clothes was a crime. 

He wiped his face on her thigh and rose to his feet, then started shedding his clothes. “I should tell you to do the same,” he said, and he shot a pointed look at her bustier. 

She grinned and started untying the laces on her bustier. By the time the bustier was discarded by the bed, Fenris was bare from the waist up.

Rynne shamelessly studied the lean muscles of his tattooed back as he pushed his leggings down. His cock was standing at attention, and when he turned to face her, a rush of saliva filled her mouth at the perfect sight.

She rolled onto her side and beckoned him close. He smirked at her as he approached the bed. “All right. Now what demands–”

She hooked her hand around his thigh and pulled him closer, then took his cock into her mouth. He gasped in shock, and his hand rose to cup her cheek. 

She reluctantly released him to meet his eye. “Is this all right?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes, of – yes, I want it. You just – you took me by surprise.”

She smiled. “I told you I was hungry,” she said, and she took him into her mouth once more.

He groaned and sank his fingers into her hair, and Rynne closed her eyes to better savour the feel of him sliding across her hard palate toward her throat. She angled her head to take him deeper and listened carefully to the quality of his breathing, eager to give him the same amount of pleasure that he’d given to her. 

He moaned and pumped his hips slightly, and a thrill of vicarious pleasure rippled through her chest. She curled her hips toward him by instinct, conditioned and cued by the sound of his pleasure. 

Then she gasped in surprise. His hand was pushing her thighs apart, and then his finger was sliding inside of her. 

She moaned helplessly around his cock. He was curling his finger inside of her, coaxing her eagerness forth with a slow come-hither motion, and within seconds, Rynne was thrusting toward his hand with rising desperation. 

It was too much and not enough. It felt so damned good, but she wanted more. His fingers were filling her pussy and his cock was filling her throat, but she needed more. She needed him, all of him, his body flush to hers and his skin sliding hot and sweaty against her own. She needed his gasping voice in her ear and his adoring kiss on her lips and his careful stroking hands, and she needed him to fill her up until she was complete. 

She pushed his hand away and sat back on her knees, then dragged him onto the bed. “Hold me,” she whimpered. 

“Yes,” he breathed. His hands were everywhere now, tracing the edge of her jaw, sliding through her hair and down to her neck, fondling her breast and thumbing her nipple, encircling her waist as he pulled her onto his lap to straddle him…

He pulled her firmly onto the length of his cock. A wave of sheer, perfect pleasure fanned out through her thighs and up through her belly, and she cried out in ecstasy. 

He dropped his gasping lips to her breast. He was supporting himself with one arm, but his other arm was tight around her waist as he pumped his hips to fill her up. His skin was just as heated and sweat-laced as she had hoped, and he was so… 

Fuck it, he really was everything. He was the only lover who had ever made her feel this much before. There was no one like him, no one she could ever imagine filling her body and her heart in this exquisite way, and there was only one reason for that: Fenris was the love of her life.

And that, she realized, was why their sex felt so fucking good. Every time they came together, every time their clothes fell away as they fell into bed, it was more than just a frenzied expression of lust. It was more than just an exchange of pleasure. It was an encounter of two bodies that ran to the same rhythm and two hearts that pulsed to the same dizzying beat of love. Fenris was the man of her dreams, the man she’d dreamed of for years and the man who held her close when her dreams were too difficult to bear, and he was the only person she would ever love this much for as long as she lived. 

They moved together with increasing urgency, his hands gripping her body and her fingers tightening in his hair as she rode him at a furious rhythm, and when Fenris gasped in climax, she hugged him tightly and savoured every fitful shudder that rippled across his skin. 

Once his body had gone still with relaxation, he lifted his face from her chest and smiled, and Rynne smiled helplessly back at him. She brushed his damp hair away from his face. “I know why Aveline really kicked us out,” she said.

Fenris huffed in amusement. “I thought her reason was pretty clear.”

Rynne smiled more widely. “Yes, all right, I’m a crass and dirty bitch. But that’s not really why. It’s because she knows what this is like.” She rubbed his earlobe affectionately. “You remember her and Isabela talking, back when she and Donnic first got together. Aveline knows what this is like.” 

Fenris’s smile grew soft. He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled them over carefully until he was lounging between her legs. 

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You may be right about that,” he murmured. 

She smiled at him wordlessly. His face was full of fondness and so damned handsome, and Rynne simply admired him until he lowered his lovely face to hers for a kiss.

They kissed for a long and leisurely time, tongues twining and lips meeting until Rynne lost track of the time. But eventually she felt him. 

She shifted her hips, and a ripple of anticipation rose to her throat. It was the telltale pressure of his cock hardening inside of her, even though he had never pulled away.

She leaned away from his infinitely tempting lips. “Again?” she asked eagerly. 

He smirked. “You said you were insatiable. I need to test the theory.”

His damned voice was a deep and teasing purr, and Rynne basked in the glorious sound of it. “I like the sound of that,” she breathed, and she flexed her hips to meet him.

He inhaled sharply, then lowered his face and kissed her again. And for the rest of the night, she and Fenris moved and shifted together, blissfully making the love that would tie them together for the rest of their lives. 

[miss-nerd-alert]

Anders doesn’t suffer from bad writing in DA2

It’s easy to make such a claim, especially for people who liked him in Awakening, but it is inaccurate.

I’ve seen some people say that Anders’ character arc in DA2 is the result of “bigoted white writers who can’t write marginalized characters because they only demonize them” when his characterization is incredibly nuanced and actually really well executed.

When we first meet Anders in DA2, his motives are entirely justifiable. He’s an apostate using his magic to run a free medical clinic for the poor in Kirkwall’s Undercity, who came to help the mages in the Gallows escape to freedom, and he opposes the use of blood magic.

His character begins to change, however, when he gets a firsthand look at the abuses carried out by the Templars in the Gallows. Karl had been writing to Anders about how Meredith was running the Gallows, but seeing him-a hallowed mage-made Tranquil was the first time Anders had actually seen it. Justice, or more accurately Vengeance, blasts onto the scene and the Templars die. After that, all Templars are the same to him, opressors to be destroyed. It’s now that we begin to see the ruthlessness that Anders is capable of.

He’s completely on board with killing Ser Thrask, one of the only good Templars left in Kirkwall, just on the principle that he’s a Templar and thus the enemy. He begins to see people as allies or enemies, with no room for middle ground or neutrality. He’s perfectly fine with giving Fenris back to Danarius, because Fenris is vocally supportive of the Templars and hates magic. Never mind that Fenris suffered at the hands of mages for as long as he can remember (and even before he lost his memory), Anders completely disregards the suffering of another because they disagree on ONE (1) thing. Anders is also shown to idolize Tevinter for the privileges it’s mages enjoy, even knowing full well that privilege comes on the backs of non-mages, who are enslaved and abused in much the same manner the mages in the Gallows are. Anders doesn’t seem to care about the suffering of anyone but the people he’s advocating for.

Anders continues to help mages escape the Gallows for the next few years, but his stability starts to crack as things only get worse. He’s completely stunned that Meredith denied Ser Alrik’s “Tranquil Solution”, because how could the face of his enemy possibly be reasonable? By that point, you could tell him Meredith cannibalized children, and he’d believe it wholeheartedly. After he and Justice/Vengeance tear the Templars apart, they get angry when the mage girl calls them a demon, and they lash out, possibly killing her. He attacks someone he was supposed to be helping because she didn’t seem grateful.

Anders is still willing to try and find a peaceful solution at this point, though his saying Elthina “might be more reasonable” than he’d thought indicates that he had considered it rather pointless by then.

By Act 3, Anders makes it pretty clear there’s no going back. Meredith has destroyed the Mage Underground, and Anders is already putting his plan in motion.

Elthina was ineffective at best, and negligent at worst, but she was not the only one in the Chantry. We never see more than a handful of sisters or brothers, but from what we can pick up from their brief dialogue with one another, they were at least trying to help people. They talk about feeding the street urchins, upset that they run off before the sisters can do anything more than give them some food. Sebastian mentions how they take care of orphans, widows, and the sickly. Whatever they think of the mage/Templar conflict, they are powerless to do anything but clean up the mess.

When the Chantry is destroyed, the blast is HUGE. Debris is likely scattered over half of Hightown, and the destruction is so bad that years later, Cassandra mentions that it’s still ongoing, with Varric adding that repairing the damage completely “will take years”. Even if no one within the Chantry itself was innocent, civilians were still caught in the blast.

Anders was fighting for people who had been oppressed, and Meredith didn’t need to call for Annulment of the Circle when the mage responsible was right in front of her, but Anders only made things worse for mages in southern Thedas by blowing up the Chantry. It was fairly obvious that Meredith would use his actions as her excuse to use the Right of Annulment, as she’d already been looking for one. By blowing up the Chantry, Anders made every mage in southern Thedas a target, set the wolves on the mages in the Gallows, started a war that got many mages -innocent or otherwise- killed, and made many who had been sympathetic to the mages wary.

When you meet Harding, if playing as a mage, she mentions that even those within the Inquisition are nervous around mages. While his intentions may have been worthwhile, Anders’ actions only made the mages situation worse. They may be out of their Circles, but they face attacks and mistrust from all sides, eventually getting desperate enough to turn to a Tevinter magister, which would only further alienate any potential allies they might have had. In doing so, they bind themselves to CORYPHEUS, one of the thirteen magisters responsible for the Blight and caused a good deal of the mistrust modern mages face.

Anders isn’t a marginalized character being demonized by a white writer. He’s an example of how a marginalized character can still be wrong; how someone from a minority can still take good intentions too far and become just as bad as their opposition. That is writing that is both super impressive and incredibly relevant.

Long post, but I needed to get this out there.

[mushroomfen]

I need to get back into writing things, and I have a WIP that I’ve been wanting to work on for months but don’t have the energy to continue and have just been editing it to HELL and back. I’ve finally decided to just throw the intro up here for my fellow Dragon Age friends to garner some feedback and/or opinions on if it’s actually something people would want to read??

Anyway its supposed to end up being a bridge between my canon DA2 and Inquisition, and then put some more DA2 characters into the mix of the Inquisition problems as well. It’s also supposed to end up being Fenders, but it’s a slow burn and there’s nothing suggesting that in the intro. For reference, my canon Hawke romanced Anders. I still don’t have a title don’t @ me... pls let me know what you think and if you’d be interested in more!

-

The Champion stood, panting heavily as he watched the charred corpse become simply ashes in the wind. It was done, everything was over. The menace of Meredith was gone and Orsino’s hypocritical corpse lay dead in the tower. Garrett Hawke’s face was stony, a straight, almost downturned line replaced the playful grin that always seemed to grace his lips. Kirkwall, his city, was in ruin, burning down around him once again. Today was a day of sorrow, of war, of a city crumbling to ruin, and Hawke knew he was the only one that could lead these shattered people into the beginning of an end.

Garrett’s gaze shifts, taking a second to rest on each of his companions, silently accounting for each and every one. He ignores the pain in his side that reminds him there’s a deep gash oozing a steady flow of blood, and instead starts to call attention to Merrill who’s currently rummaging through her bag for bandaging. His voice catches in his throat when his gaze falls on the final companion though, the cause of this mess.

No, that’s too harsh, he’s the cause of the beginning of the war, of this start. He’s what gave mages the chance, the courage, and the ability to fight back. He’s not the reason this happened, and it needed to happen. But... to go this far? To cause this much devastation?

With a heavy sigh, Hawke shakes his head and turns away from the man he loved… no, loves... and makes his way across the courtyard to Fenris. The warrior frowns when he spots Hawke, shaking his head in disapproval at the gash in Hawke’s side. Despite Hawke’s protesting, Fenris rips off some cloth from a nearby tapestry to wind around Hawke’s middle, “Hawke-”

Before he could get his chastising out, Fenris was cut off by an unusually low and serious voice, “Fenris, I need to speak with you, after this mess is cleaned up. Meet me in Hightown when you can.”

Hawke’s voice raises the hair on the back of Fenris’ neck and his eyes narrow. Despite the unusual tone however, Fenris finds only honesty and pleading amongst the anguish in the amber depths. His stomach drops, “I’ll be there.”

Once back at his manor, Hawke took to pacing. He knew Fenris wouldn’t be coming till late that night, but it does nothing to calm the turmoil within him. At first Biscuit, his mabari, whines and snuffles at his heels, but quickly admits defeat after receiving only a gruff “goodnight” from Garrett. With a worried whine, he trots obediently upstairs, leaving Hawke alone with his troubled thoughts.

Hours later, it’s just as he’s climbing the stairs to try and sleep that Hawke hears the door cautiously swing open and Fenris announcing his presence. Hawke’s chest tightens in anticipation and worry, calling for Fenris to join him in the main room.

“You look distressed, Hawke.” Fenris starts as he joins him in the room, watching as Hawke takes a seat on one of the plush chairs by the fire.

Sighing, Hawke can only nod in agreement, hands coming up to rub at his face, “You might want to have a seat, you’re not going to want to hear this…”

“This has to do with the mage, doesn’t it? Maker knows you love him, Hawke, but this? He went too far-”

“I know!” Hawke snaps, cutting Fenris’ scathing words off. The fire in Hawke’s eyes dims when he meets Fenris’ icy glare and he continues more softly, staring into the fire instead, “I know... that’s why I need your help.”

It takes several long moments, Fenris’ narrowed gaze searching Hawke’s defeated form when finally, with a soft huff, he takes a seat.

“I’m listening.”

“Thank you, Fenris,” Hawke lets out a relieved breath, but the anxiousness stays, this could still end badly, and he knows it. Even with hours upon hours of playing conversation after conversation over in his head, he still has no idea where to even start. “I… Anders… well...he-”

“Spit it out, Hawke this isn’t like you. Where is the mage anyway? I figured he’d be here, hiding.” His voice is gruff, frustrated, and now he’s gazing around, looking for Anders.

“No, no he’s at the clinic, and I’m going there after this to make sure he’s alright.” Hawke says warily, rubbing the back of his neck, “He has to pack up his stuff.”

“At least he has some sense to leave before the second wave of templars come-”

“You’re going with him.” Hawke blurts, the crackling of the fire only adding to the crackling tension between the two.

“What?” Fenris’ words feel like they’re made of steel, slicing through Hawke’s very being.

“Please, Fenris, just hear me out. I’m doing this for a reason, I’m asking you for a reason.” Fenris just regards him with a stony stare for several moments and eventually the silence prompts Hawke to continue, “I…I truly believe that Justice, though with no ill intention from either him nor Anders to begin with, is now corrupted. No good spirit would condone murder of innocents to prove a point-even a spirit of Justice.” Hawke gets a terse nod from Fenris and watches as he ever so slightly sits back in the seat, a sign that he was listening, and it spurs Hawke on, “E-Ever since he first mentioned the potion to separate himself from Justice, I started doing some of my own digging. I’ve heard stories of an Avvar hold in the Frostback Basin, that they have a ritual to separate spirits from their people. I don’t know if its just rumors or if it’ll be any good, or if it won’t work with Demons but-”

“You want me to take him there.” Fenris finishes, tone completely flat.

“I… yes.”

“No.” Once again Fenris’ voice cuts deep into Hawke as he stands, “If your lover was dumb enough to get himself into this mess, he can get himself out of it. You go with him if you think it’s worth it.”

“You know I can’t leave Kirkwall like this! It’ll destroy itself-”

“So, let it, Hawke! This city isn’t your child!” Fenris snarls in frustration, turning to leave, “Say for some Maker damned reason I do go, then what, Hawke? I’d sooner kill him before we even reached the Frostbacks!”

“Exactly!” Already in the entryway, Fenris pauses, ears twitching, “And exactly why I cannot do it myself.”

“What are you talking about?” Fenris murmurs, voice thick with suspicion, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity now, turning back to find Hawke also stood by his chair, “Are you asking me to kill your beloved mage?”

“Maker no!” Hawke recoils harshly at that, “I beg it doesn’t come to that-but… I need someone with him that wouldn’t hesitate to…to put him down if he-”

“Becomes an abomination.” Fenris finishes roughly, “Hawke, what makes you think he isn’t one already?”

The question, though accusatory, is sincere, and Hawke has to bite his tongue before he speaks. “I know he’s said he is merged with Justice and that there is no separation, but I cannot believe that. Abominations have shown to lose control over their own bodies when threatened, and they cannot hold human emotions, show restraint, or act upon the kindness and generosity Anders does…” Hawke bites his lip before continuing, “Do you remember when he almost killed the mage girl we saved in the tunnels?”

“Yes…” Fenris’ skin prickles at the memory, hair standing on end.

“Think, Fenris… Would an abomination be able to stop that course of action? Would Anders have been able to hole himself up in a clinic and wallow in guilt and remorse and self-hate for days on end because of something he couldn’t control?”

“So he can’t control it!“

“But he can Fenris! He stopped Justice! There’s still an Anders in him!” Hawke is practically shouting now, but catches himself and continues much more softly, “Please Fenris, just try and look past the spirit-the demon. Anders puts up this… this wall for everyone but it’s because he’s scared and knows deep down he made a mistake! He’s doing everything he can to hold himself together when a demon of vengeance is wreaking its havoc on his body!”

“It is well deserved for his foolish decision to harbor it in the first place.” Fenris’ lips curl, shaking his head in distaste.

“Andraste’s tits-Fenris please, please, just this once, see Anders. The good, kind, well-meaning man that gives everything to the people in Darktown to have a better life. Doesn’t that man deserve the chance to make his life better too? Doesn’t he deserve the chance to separate himself from the mistake he made?” Hawke is pleading now, gaze holding firm against Fenris’ narrowed one.

“You want me to give the mage who betrayed you a second chance. To take him across Fereldan on my own to a rumored possibility that most likely won’t work to separate him from something that has proved dangerous and that he insists is fully merged with his being.” Fenris repeats slowly, the words feeling like blades against his tongue, “Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?”

“Yes.” Hawke hisses, but there is no malice, only desperation, “Do you realize how spiteful you sound, Fenris? How merciless and inconsiderate? A man, a man you have fought beside for 9 years now, is suffering, has been suffering and all of us have just... stood there and let it happen…” Hawke trails off with that remark, clearly haunted by his own inability to see the clear signs of distress, to notice what was going on with his own lover. “I know you both have your differences and I know you don’t see eye to eye, and I know he’s said horrible things to you and I take blame for that too, but… I’m not asking for you to be friends, or even friendly. I do know you can respect each other and can take care of yourselves, and you know each other well. All I’m asking from you, Fenris, is to be an escort, you’re the only one I trust to take him down if… if he goes too far. Please, Fenris. I need you.”

Hawke holds Fenris’ calculating gaze, before finally he looks away, takes a seat again and stares into the fire. Still, Fenris is silent as Hawke waves a hand dismissively, “I’m sorry. I realize I’m asking too much of you, Fenris. I would like a moment alone before I go to Darktown if you don’t mind.”

“When does he leave?” Hawke almost doesn’t register the quiet question, but after a moment he lifts his head to look back at Fenris in the entranceway, “What?”

“I asked, when does he leave?” Fenris repeats, a bit more forcefully, eyes averted and arms crossed, defensive.

“I… I have a ship that agreed to quietly sail two passengers across the Waking Sea to Amarathine. It leaves the docks at dawn.” Hawke murmurs, still wary but feeling a spark of hope flare in his chest.

“I’ll be at the clinic before first light.” Fenris mutters gruffly, forcefully slamming the door closed behind him. For the first time that day, there’s a small smile on Hawke’s face.

[luobingmeis]

DAO really was the best game, the lore the ability to absolutely wreck shit, the fact that they didnt do that bullshit ‘all sides are grey’ and clearly showed oppression. I think of my warden, an elven mage, and wonder how she’ll be rewritten more than anything.

right like!!!! i love each dragon age game with my whole heart and they all have super special places in said heart, but origins handles a lot of the social problems really well, or at least from the perspective that i play it as (also an elven mage!)

the rest i’m putting under the cut bc holy shit i can talk abt dragon age a lot. also nothing is proofred. i’m so sorry this got so long i hear “bioware” and “grey morality” and i go wild

(pls talk to me abt dragon age.....)

(also please don’t reblog this!!)

like i understand da2 having a type of grey-morality thing bc the final battle was choosing between the mages and the templars (tho imo they could’ve done better than “the mages hate us bc we keep them locked in a tower and there are multiple accounts of us abusing them and therefore some of them turn to blood magic so therefore we should kill all of them” but still, in a setting like that where the Main End Game Choice was mages vs. templars, then that is understandable)

(but also i haven’t played da2 in a couple years so maybe it’s more nuanced than that)

but inquisition! it’s weird bc inq has a super special place in my heart. i’ve played it 6 or 7 times to completion, not counting the other times i got 20/30 hours into it before external forces distracted me. inq is overall the game i think abt the most, most of my playthroughs average over 100 hours, it’s the only game that i have all the dlcs for, for me it’s the easiest to replay, and yet there’s so much that frustrates me abt it! like, i’m gonna avoid talking abt the actual parts of the writing that bother me, bc that can be it’s own standalone thing, but imo it felt like they never actually solidified what actually caused the mage/templar war? there are those that say anders started it (seems likely), then there are those who talk abt fiona leading the rebel mages in the war? and there, of course, is the “the templars have done wrong but so have they mages and therefore you’re shamed either way for what you do” like i Get what they’re trying to do, trying to encourage players to explore their options and really delve into their own moral values of the game and not just adhere to what the game says, but idk the way they always went abt it always rubbed me some type of wrong

i think part of it is bc, when people mention circle mages turning to blood mages and demons and such like that, it was always framed as “ah these evil mages!” and not “[if these are circle mages] most likely their want for freedom pushed them to that”

does that make it right? no, not necessarily! look at uldred from dao! imo, he was wrong! i don’t like the circle and my warden herself has a complicated relationship with it, but i like that you can say “hey! this is wrong!” without legitimate plot-based “but what if it isn’t?”

of course there will always be companions who push for the more chaotic/harsh choices (morrigan is the one i have the most experience with giving me disapproval for being what i think is nice) (still love her tho), but i think dao handled “okay, look at the big picture, and really think abt what hill u want to die on” stance well

and then there’s the way the mage/templar thing is handled in inquisition vis a vis companions. specifically cullen. and, listen, i as a player have a very complicated relationship with cullen and my heros do too lmao. and i really don’t want to get into the nuances of that bc that can 1) turn into a fight i don’t feel like having and 2) can be it’s own discussion, but basically, from my own perspective, he’s a well-written character who makes for a good antag to a mage-siding hawke in da2 bc of how pro-templar/anti-mage he is. again, don’t agree with any of it (honestly da2 alone puts me on the “okay fuck this” level w/ his character), but it does offer an extreme that is interesting to see. origins is more complicated bc in a game not directly stepped in mage/templar and also a game that stems from 6 different origin stories, it’s very easy to be a non-mage and be like “why do i care abt this guy” (if you get what i’m saying? like i got immediately invested in saving the mages bc my first warden was a circle mage so i was very put off by being told to kill all of them, as compared to if i played a non-mage origin and didn’t really have that background knowledge). but overall, origins and da2 puts cullen on the “pro-templars, mages are more dangerous than they are good side.” and then inquisition is where things get interesting!!

and, for a quick ref, i’m very into getting invested in my characters and really figuring out their morals and what they would actually do, or at least think, so dai becomes interesting bc i play as another elven mage who has never stepped foot in a circle and never will. so, bc of that, i play him as naturally more inclined to not initially Think abt cullen’s past like as a templar bc, as a dalish mage, i hc that he does not know what actually goes on in circles (as compared to my warden, a circle mage, and my hawke, an apostate) (but i hc that, overtime, as he has more and more experiences with templars, he becomes more cognizant of that) (but bioware doesn’t give me the option to just dictate everything my camris lavellan is thinking akjsjkdjk)

and dai-cullen, imo, is actually very interesting! and, tbh, i do have to give it to bioware. i feel like i’m abt to say an unironic controversial opinion, and i feel like i’ve already talked abt the nuances of all of this, but i do think dai did well at reworking cullen’s character. however, i feel like that was also done to feed into the grey-ness of the mage/templars. and, imo, i think they almost did well at actually making cullen show regret for how he treated mages. almost. again, i think there’s a lot of nuance! bc we do see him show some type of regret for how he treated a mage!warden (if he said all that shit like “all these people’s blood are on your hands” if u talk abt not wanting to kill innocent mages) and we do see him step away from templar life (that is, if you tell him to stop taking lyrium)

but!!!! there’s One Thing that puts a thorn in this, and it’s that cullen says something along the lines of, “meredith wasn’t all wrong, she had reason” like bitch!!! no matter what side you choose in da2, you fucking fight meredith!!! she’s wanted to kill innocent mages/make them tranquil even before anders blew up the chantry!!! meredith was all wrong!! she was evil!!!!! she was objectively a harmful person!!!!!!!!! bioware really makes this bitch the final boss of da2 and then has the audacity to say “but maybe she wasn’t all bad” in dai like WHERE IS THIS FOR ORSINO??? ORSINO ISN’T ALL BAD, IS HE???????? OH BUT HE IS BC HE RESORTED TO SUDDEN BLOOD MAGIC IN THE LAST TEN MINUTES OF THE GAME, AS COMPARED TO MEREDITH WHO WAS A DANGER FOR THE ENTIRE FINAL ACT and i digress but the fact that bioware is trying to redeem cullen but also showing that he still sympathizes with a woman who 1) turned against the templars and 2) Literally Everything She Did To The Mages always makes me “hmmmm are u really trying tho :/”

also tho one thing i’m actually not the biggest fan of is that cullen is like “oh i knew hawke in passing........ knew varric in passing.............” meanwhile let’s just cut to everything that happened at kirkwall. this is my own opinion bc i see varric as hawke’s #1 but i personally think that at least half of the comraderie varric and cullen sorta-kinda-had in inq was varric testing the waters of “okay what is cullen going to be like if and when hawke shows up”

also tho i will say a hot-take of mine is that if cullen gets to be redeemed by bioware, then i want something for anders, too, but i doubt bioware would do something so clearly pro-mage. but it could be two sides of the extreme! extremist templar gets redemption, extremist mage does, too! come on, bioware, show your grey morality

(again, i think it’s interesting what they did with cullen in dai and does give some sympathetic light but i also do think the reworking of his character was working towards bioware’s moral-greyness agenda with dragon age. not that that’s necessarily a terrible thing, i understand them wanting some nuance, but it’s the way they do it. like, you can show bad templars and bad mages and still not have “but who is really the bad guy? the oppressors or the oppressed? who is it really?”)

(and also just bc i feel like i need to put my own player claim in this, my opinion on cullen is complicated and also i’m gonna be completely forth-right with u, dear anon, i appreciate cullen in inquisition but, as a whole, he can be terrible to ur warden in dao (that’s not me being shifty it literally just depends on the choice you make in broken circle) and in da2 he’s a nightmare, so bioware had to do a lot of legwork in dai) (tbh tho in my personal-player opinion, if i was to ever romance cullen in inq, it’s not gonna be with a mage)

god this got so out of hand anon i’m so sorry you probably didn’t want this messy essay but i just love talking abt dragon age!!! i think abt it a lot and i have five years worth of headcanons and i have a family tree set up for my surana/lavellan bc of some bullshit i pulled and also!!!! bioware’s writing can get so frustrating but i also think it’s so interesting to pull apart and discuss bc i think the bioware has actually shifted from pro-mage (origins) to neutral-mage (da2 kinda) to anti-mage (dai) and i feel like So Many Choices with characters and their plots reveal that!!! so it’s a frustrating agenda but i also just love dragon age so much that i can’t help but get excited and talk abt it!!!

like, as all things, i do believe there are times when grey morality does work, but, at least from a mage-siding perspective, it hasn’t really landed well for dragon age. bc, and i don’t want to drag in real-life scenarios bc i feel like it would be incredibly inappropriate of me to use any oppressed minority as a comparison for a fantasy world, but it’s the age-old thing of people saying the shitty “but the oppressed fight back and therefore they’re just as bad as the oppressors!” and that’s like....... not how it works.

but also you’ve caught me in a wonderful mood so i feel like, if i was in a bad mood, this would be a lot more “and fucking bioware can’t make a goddamn decision on what side they actually support so instead most of the companions are gonna made rude remarks abt you supporting mages and the ones that support you are seen as distrustful and fuck this and fuck that” but i think that is the joy of loving something with you’re whole heart and also saying “there are so many things abt this that piss me off and so many things that i would change”

and also!!!! ik bioware probably killed my warden so like rip electra surana but i would love for the warden to make an appearance in da4 as a temporary companion/advisor. but! but!!!!!! i also don’t know how much i trust bioware with my “elven mage who is alistair’s mistress and preferred the mages and wanted to free the circles and etc etc etc” bc... idk how to explain it? like, i don’t want them taking my warden and putting words in her mouth that go against choices i meticulously made in dao

[midnightprelude]

Autumn Revels

My @fic-or-treat submission for @hollyand-writes!  It’s not the spookiest by any means, but I hope you enjoy the fall flavor. I know I enjoyed writing these wonderful guys and starting to give them the happy ending they deserve. :)

Fandom: Dragon Age Rating: Mature Paring: m!Hawke/Anders

You can read it here or on AO3!

No matter where they found themselves, as soon as the wind and the leaves began to grow crisp, Anders and Garrett would find themselves packing up and heading off to Nevarra. It had become a tradition of sorts, starting completely spontaneously as many such things do, and then garnering its own meaning over the years.

The first time they found themselves in the country together, Anders had been traveling alone since Kirkwall, often sleeping out-of-doors or in forgotten alleyways, never staying in one place for long. His journeys took him north, through the Marches, Antiva, Rivain, Tevinter, and Anderfels. He saw more of the world than he ever could have imagined back when he was rotting in Kinloch. Freedom had been a strange thing for Anders, nothing like what he had expected, and he still wasn’t sure he had really ever tasted it in truth.

He and Hawke had necessarily parted ways after the revolt, once the mages of the Kirkwall Circle were finally freed and Meredith put to the sword. Anders had betrayed him. Garrett had given him everything: a home, a purpose, a life . Love.

Anders had tossed it away. It was necessary, but the pain of it still stung. He imagined it always would. And in the end, Hawke didn’t even have the heart to destroy him, to end his pain. Anders supposed it was too much to ask--Garrett had promised to always take care of him, to keep him safe from those who would put him back in chains. Who would put them both in chains, if they could. Garrett had never been trapped in a Circle himself, but he had seen what the confinement had done to people. What it had done to Anders. Garrett had promised it would never happen again; he had promised to keep Anders safe from the Templars and the Seekers and the Wardens and anyone else who might come for him. And Anders had tossed it away.

He had heard rumors of the Herald and had even seen the Breach, far off in the distance. It was only a subtle green glow when he was in the Marches. Rumors of darkspawn and demons, but then again there were always rumors of darkspawn and demons. He hadn’t thought much of it.

He had been traveling for five years, his feathered coat growing more and more tattered as the miles he accumulated crossed the hundreds. Sometimes he was able to get a pony to carry his tired feet. More often, he was on foot. Sometimes he would heal for coin. Sometimes for a hot meal. Sometimes for nothing at all. He was not so callous to turn away a patient who could not pay for their treatment. He never had been. Those nights he went hungry.

Eventually his feet carried him to Nevarra City, the dense population allowing him to bleed into the background, despite his light hair, pale complexion, and southern accent. There were plenty from around the world who flocked to the area, trading, wandering, traveling. He could find shelter here, perhaps build a life. He was far enough from anyone who would recognize him. Perhaps he could stay for longer than a fortnight. It could be Kirkwall again, better even. Nevarra also smelled of death, but it was the acrid smell of embalming fluid and incense, not of blood clotting and drying in the streets.

The first day of autumn was impossible to miss. The denizens of Nevarra City strung lanterns and streamers from every surface, preparing for a month of revels. There would be food, drink, costumes, and celebrations of the dead. Even Anders was starting to feel festive. He would not partake, of course, but it was hard to not be swept up in the infectious nature of an entire populace coming together over shared traditions, even if they were not his own. He remembered evenings in the Hanged Man, Isabela singing loudly or dancing on a table, Fenris actually smiling when he was beating Varric at cards, Merrill drinking far too much and being carried through Lowtown by one of the men or Isabela, when she wasn’t too far gone herself. He remembered stolen kisses, holding Garrett’s hand under the table, drunken confessions of love. In Nevarra, he would sometimes use his last coins to buy a drink and sit in a tavern, in the corner, not speaking to anyone, and just remember the way Garrett looked in the candlelight, flushed with drink. The thought alone was enough to make his stomach flutter and bring tears to his eyes. Justice was allowing him alcohol now, in small amounts, never more than one drink.

Maker, what I wouldn’t do to see him again, just once more.

He was cleaning up his makeshift clinic, reshelving unused gauze and taking stock of his remaining herbs, when he heard a knock at the door. He had established his practice several months ago under a particularly seedy bridge, a cavern leading off of the walkway from the canals that criss-crossed their way through the city. It reminded him a bit of Darktown, but at least he was no longer in the sewers.

He turned to the door, sighing.

One more patient , he thought, and then I can try to rest.

Not that resting was particularly pleasant for him, either. More often than not, Anders would dream of stumbling through the Deep Roads or his cell in Kinloch. He would wake up with his skin crawling, the dreams of demons never far from his mind. On the kinder nights, he remembered when Hawke asked him to move in, holding Hawke and being held in return, the feel of Ser Pounce-a-lot’s fur, that wry smile Fenris had started giving him towards the end, the way Varric would shake his head when he called him ‘Blondie’.

He still didn’t entirely understand why Garrett had spared him, sending him away instead of facing punishment for his crimes. Justice had been angry about it, even despite his feelings of victory. In truth, Anders had been a little angry as well. Garrett had chosen the easier route for himself, but not for Anders. Anders was forced to endure, living with the knowledge that he had destroyed his friends’ lives in a single instant. He didn’t regret his actions at the Chantry; it had been necessary. He regretted hurting his companions. He regretted hurting innocents. Hurting Kirkwall itself.

He stepped gingerly over the improvised cots and across the uneven cobblestones to reach the door he had thrown together himself from a pile of cast-off driftwood. He reached for the handle, sighing. He had hoped he could finally go to bed for the evening, catching a few hours of sleep before dawn came. It did not seem to be the case.

He opened the door slowly. The face staring back at him, glowing in the lantern light, was enough to make him drop his staff, the wood clattering against the stone floor.

Garrett Hawke stood before him, more slender, more lined, and travel-worn. He had kept his beard, but his hair was close-cropped and he looked like he had gathered a few more scars over the past several years. Anders could hardly breathe.

Hawke smiled. “It’s been a while, Anders. I’ve missed you.”

Anders was at a loss for words. He used to babble, but all of the time alone with his thoughts had quieted his mind. And he wasn’t expecting this of all things. Not him. Not here. Not after all of this time.

Garrett looked at him curiously. “May I come in? I’m exhausted and could use a drink.”

Anders nodded, stunned, his breath and speech stolen from him by the circumstances. He could not stop staring. He was almost sure that this was just another dream that would suddenly turn into a nightmare. Garrett would be replaced by Meredith or an abomination or would have a sunburst on his forehead, his mind and connection to the Fade severed completely.

But he grabbed whatever swill he had on hand and poured a glass for his old friend. Garrett was still there. When he took a mug for himself, choking down the ale, Garrett was still there, smiling slightly. And when he finally found his words, Garrett was still there, grinning stupidly.

“Why…? How…?” The questions were all Anders could choke out. Anything else was impossible. The whole situation was, in fact. He couldn’t really be here, not after all of this time. Not after all of the miles he had crossed getting away, to keep Hawke safe from the cloud of suspicion that being acquainted with Anders would bring. Of being more than acquainted.

Garrett laughed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you of my coming. I wasn’t sure if you would still be here when I arrived. I’ve tried to follow you before, but I was always too late. And then there was the bit with the Inquisition…” He sighed. “Anders, we fought a monster . I didn’t think it could get worse than Kirkwall, but it decidedly was. World-ending calamities. And of course, Varric dragged me into it.”

Anders frowned. That angered him. Varric should have known better.  “You’ve done enough, Hawke. He should have let you rest.”

Garrett shrugged, eyes laughing. “You know I would have found my way there eventually. I can’t stay away from trouble. It’s my special talent.”

“I know.” Anders’s voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper.

“Anyway, I was invited to a party and was hoping you would come with me! By a Seeker, no less, a royal one. A Pentaghast! It seems I’m popular again. Never thought that would happen.”

Anders’s brow grew even more lined as his frown deepened. “You know that it isn’t possible. Not for me. Not anymore. It is good to see you, Hawke, but now I must ask that you leave. I’m only going to put you in danger. And if anyone knew you were here, they might realize and… I was starting to get used to things here.”

Garrett rummaged in his cloak, looking quite serious for one of the few times in his life. That usually meant something bad was about to happen. Or something incredibly intimate. Anders was still never good at predicting which.

He pulled out two masks, one with the beak of a bird and one that looked curiously like a cat. From another hidden pocket, he pulled out a letter.

“It’s a masquerade, nobody will recognize you. They’ll just see two handsome foreign men, dancing together, and wonder.”

Anders was unable to return his smile.

Garrett pushed the letter towards him. “If you’re still concerned, this might help.”

Looking over the parchment, Anders noted an official seal in black wax, a sword and a flaming eye. He knew he had seen it before, but could not place the symbol.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Garrett smiled, not jokingly, but with an incredible sincerity. “When my duties at the Inquisition were over, the Inquisitor herself asked me to name my rewards for my service. I asked for two things. The first was use of her spy network and the Divine’s. The second is here. Open it.”

He obeyed, unsure, hands shaking.

The script was formal, elegant, and very official. The words were even more so.

From this day henceforth, by the combined powers of the Inquisition, the Orlesian Chantry, and of the Free State of Kirkwall, let it be known that the man known as Anders of Kirkwall is hereby granted clemency for all acts of aggression in defense of the Circle mages.

While the parties listed above do not condone the violence utilized to secure their safety, they also recognize that significant attempts were taken to avoid direct confrontation. All means to avoid conflict were denied.

The actions taken by the aforementioned will also be canonized in the Canticle of Light as an act of heroism, on par with those taken during the Andrastian revolution. The Church recognizes that not all progress can be made non-violently and while we mourn the loss of those who died in the explosion and the city that was destroyed, we also understand that through his actions, countless lives were saved and dramatically improved through the reform of the Circles.

Anders of Kirkwall, as of this day in 9:42 Dragon, is protected under the Inquisition. Any move against his person will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with retaliatory force.

There were three signatures under the body of the letter, their scripts as floral as the language: Inquisitor Lavellan, Divine Victoria, and Viscount Varric Tethras of Kirkwall.

Anders held the parchment out away from his face as though it was poisonous. He could not believe it. He did not dare.

He turned the letter over in his hands, reading it again and again, before finally looking up. He stared at Hawke, unblinking.

Hawke grinned. “So, would you accompany me to this soiree? I’m sure the alcohol will be better than what you just poured me. And you look like you could use a drink.”

Anders didn’t know what to do. A pained laugh escaped his chest, quiet at first, but growing until his entire body shook. Tears formed in his eyes, his laugh lines forming. His laughter turned into exhausted sobs and Garrett pulled his arms around him, holding him tightly.

Anders hadn’t laughed, not truly, in years.

He had cried though, but not like this.

Garrett released him, using a calloused hand to wipe his tears away. “I never stopped loving you, despite it all. I hope you will forgive me for not finding you sooner.”

Forgive him ?!

“Hawke, I… I don’t deserve this. I took everything from you.”

Hawke smiled, looking into his eyes. “That may be so, but you gave me something back as well. And call me a selfish bastard, but I want more of it, if you’ll have me. And I won’t let you go this time. But please try not to blow anything else up, okay? I don’t know if I have the clout for two miracles. One was hard enough to secure.”

Anders had to laugh again, tears falling harder, picking up the mask. “I… I love you too, Garrett. It has been so long since I have gone dancing. I would like nothing more. That and… if all of this is true, to be with you as well would be...” He choked on the words. “More than I ever could have hoped for.”

Hawke laughed, extending his hand. “Perfect. I am much too handsome to go to these things alone. And you are much too handsome to be wallowing in this stinking pit. Come with me, I have an apartment that overlooks the city. We can watch the revels from there. We need not join the masses to enjoy their festivities. The party’s tomorrow evening. Stay with me until then? After, we can try and figure out where we go from here. But for now… I have five years of longing to make up for.”

Anders set down his glass, taking the offered hand. He was still stunned, utterly. He smiled, slowly, unsure if he was dreaming. He thought not. Even his happiest dreams had not been this hopeful. He followed Hawke into the crisp autumn air, his boon and his lover in hand.

Hawke had saved the world and all he had asked for in return was the power to save Anders.

He would never understand how he could have been so lucky.