#the tone that user uses actually reminds me of someone from an old fandom i was in

[pynkhues]

https://www.tumblr.com/pynkhues/766659804816130048/httpswwwtumblrcomfishjellylou766623772774137

Girl don’t even bother with them. They hate the fact their fanon view of Louis is challenged by textual evidence and hate that not everyone sees him as some submissive little virginal kitten compared to alpha alpha abusive big bad Lestat. They play the racism card so often it’s laughable, actually. Instead of talking about actual racism in the fandom they purposefully go after (and conveniently not @) people who have different takes from them and take posts out of context or twist the narrative to their liking. Of course they don’t @ you, that would require placing the actual text you wrote under analysis and they can’t twist the narrative as they want with that.

I’m absolutely done with these people. they’re all over X and I had to block all of them because I like Lestat and they can’t stand it, especially because I’m a black woman myself. Some of them called Lestat a violent slave owner and a woman hater, and others regularly throw fits when people remind them through canon evidence and analysis that Louis was a pimp and not some cute little victim of everyone else, and that says enough. Then they start to rant about how tumblr is hell for Louis stans and people of color. Yeah… no.

You can tell most of them never had to deal with a show or piece of media where everything isn’t shoved in their face and they actually have to think about stuff and use their brain. They allegedly like the show and have watched it multiple times but somehow can’t grasp that the pretty innocent perfect victim Louis they got in season one and worsened with their fanon isn’t the full truth. So don’t even bother, let them sulk all they want in their sorry ass rants.

Sending love to you. Dong let this shit affect you. If anything, write more bottomstat to piss them the fuck off lmfaoooo

Thank you, anon, both for your kind words and the context. It's good to know, and I'm sorry you've had to deal with them in the past. 💖💖

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars.  That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts.  It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay.  There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation!  But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin.  Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force.  Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it.  He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padmé.  But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission.  Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi.  Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background.  Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult.  Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes.  It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs.  For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.”  But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.”  And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side.  Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world.  At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago.  “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world.  At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64).  Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285).  Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose.  Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi.  He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules.  One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist.  In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls.  The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council.  Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness.  Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire.  Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him.  Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion.  It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture.  Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie.  Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth.  Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war.  He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple.  He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing.  He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan.  This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine.  It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent.  How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now.  Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

[oldsmobile-hotdogs]

Questions for crossover jatp ghosts crossover fic: I hope Julian and the sunset curve boys talk about the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Yugoslav wars that happened when they were alive + Bill Cilnton. I wonder what pat and the band would talk about considering that they would of been kids when pat died? Do you think Julie would think of Les Mis and Hamilton cos Thomas and Kitty are from about the same time period as those musicals? I hope Julie calls Fanny Mary poppins.

Anon, or "Mimi", or "Lulu", or, heck, maybe even "Carl Birtles": Update: Not Carl Birtles. Carl Birtles sent me an ask and is cool, actually.

Stop. Right now. I'd say stop while you're ahead, but you are so far away from ahead at this point it's laughable.

For everyone confused, this is that "commenter from AO3" I joked about making a 2017-esque story time video about.

A couple days ago I uploaded the first chapter of a Julie and the Phantoms/BBC Ghosts crossover fic.

You know what? I’m gonna promo it here bc it’s my callout post and I can shill if I want to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30681704/chapters/76661471

It was generally very well received and I've had a blast interacting with readers.

Except for this.

Honestly, there's so much to get into, so I’m putting it under a cut:

This was their first correspondence (email notif bc I deleted the comment, the deletion to be explained later):

(Funnily enough, the links very much do not work on AO3, making the comment only more jarring)

I gave you *so much* benefit of the doubt when I saw this comment, and assumed that maybe you're an ESL user, just very enthusiastic to share ideas, and I pretty much said so in my reply, but know that at that point I'd already had friends- who fucking know about this, don't you dare think you're getting me alone- tell me that you were being very demanding.

Below was my reply (another email notif):

I'm gonna be honest, I think I responded really well to what I was given, and now that I'd replied, I was pretty certain the situation was dealt with. You, evidently, didn't agree, as shown by your reply to my reply:

A word of advice: when replying to someone, at least pretend like you read what they wrote.

At this point I'm left wondering two things:

What do they expect from me, if a general reply is not it?

How much more shit do they have waiting to tell me to put in my- reminder, JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover, rated T, comedic- fic?

In order to avoid finding out either, I freeze the thread on AO3. I'm liveblogging all of this on Discord.

It's then that I notice that the username on AO3 isn't clickable, so even if I wanted to block or report them I couldn't. I assume, therefore, that they've deactivated, and since them seeing their comments gone and getting angry was the only thing stopping me deleting the comments, I delete the comments.

It's also at this point I see "Mimi" never left kudos. I guess I don't deserve praise until I mention "Bill Cilnton".

There's relative calm for a short amount of time, until I get another comment:

This one is much kinder than the others and doesn't mention any specific, weird, historical events, so the extent to which I think this is "Mimi" is debatable, but bestie I'm weirded out enough that anything that even uses the enter bar unnecessarily and misses out conjunctive words like "because" and "and" is going to activate fight or flight. Update: Carl Birtles is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl was just being genuinely kind and I misinterpreted it and that's on me.

However, "Carl"'s case is not helped by the fact I can't click his account either, that AO3 offers me the ability to report it as spam, and that guess who replies to "Carl"'s comment: Update: Carl, having done nothing wrong as he has, is therefore also a victim in the situation that is being replied to by Lulu. It would seem Lulu is trying to correct??? some of Carl's commentary.

You must think I didn't get a 7 on my English Literature GCSE because you seem to underestimate my ability to compare two texts.

So clearly this is "Mimi", who has also just replied to "Carl". "Lulu" is also deactivated, and I've fallen off the end of my tether, let alone reached it, at this point so I mark it as spam. "Carl" gets to stay bc he said the idea for the crossover was good. Update: Carl also gets to continue to stay because I have it on good faith that he's a stand-up dude.

So at this point you've readily admitted through your inability to shake up your writing style to using at least one sockpuppet to convince me to talk about the "Yugoslav wars".

If "Carl Birtles" is the real(-est) of them, and "Mimi" and "Lulu" are the sockpuppets, by the way, I have questions and ideas about what you do on your free evenings and I want them neither confirmed nor answered. Update: This is slanderous and I want to apologise wholeheartedly to Carl for making assumptions about him and judging his character. Once again, he is not Mimi or Lulu. He's just a normal, cool guy.

And now you come to me, on the day of my daughter's wedding on a different platform, leave me an anon ask in the exact same format as you're so fond of, and expect any different ??

Well, yeah, then I guess I'll give you special treatment this time.

Here's exactly why I will never include anything you have told me to include:

Julian and the Phantoms discussing the Berlin Wall would be highly inappropriate for the largely fluffy, cracky tone of my fanfiction, especially given how recently the event occurred, how many Eastern Germans still experience prejudice to this day because they were born within the old borders of the DDR, and because of how nuanced this, essentially proxy war, was and how ill-informed a huge amount of the world is on the actual factors in play during this time and the Cold War in general.

Julian and the Phantoms will not discuss Yugoslavia dissolving, nor the fallout and conflict that resulted, because it was genocidal. There is nowhere I can fit Julian, pantsted, casually asking Luke “hey do you remember when the Herzegovinas were killed en masse by the Serbs?” Not gonna happen.

They won’t discuss Bill Clinton because all of them know who the current world leaders are: they don’t have amnesia, they’re ghosts. The fic is also rated T, so it would be inappropriate to make any explicit reference to “sexual relations”. None of them play saxophone.

Julie wouldn’t think of Les Mis or Hamilton because Thomas is Regency, not French Revolution, and Kitty is Georgian, not Colonial.

Julie won’t be calling Fanny Mary Poppins because she is perpetually stuck in a white dress, doesn’t wear a hat, doesn’t own an umbrella or a purse and was not the nanny or housekeeper of Button House.

The ghosts will not discuss the marvels of modern transportation or how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic on dinghy because the ghosts have seen Friends. The house irl is on a flight path. They know airplanes exist. Alison and Mike pulled up in a car.

I will probably have the phantoms and Willie talk to Pat and Julian about being from the ‘80s and ‘90s. That I will actually probably do.

The Captain will not mention FD Roosevelt because, again, they all know who the current world leaders are, and I doubt he expects a ‘90s pop punk band to have any insider knowledge on the man.

It was interesting to think of the phantoms’ grandparents having been alive during WW2. I wasn’t lying. But there is nearly nothing I can do with this information.

But above all: both sets of ghosts have already adapted to modern life. Because the shows are shorter, and meant to actually be able to fit jokes in them.

If you want to see any of this, write your own damn fic. I don’t own the concept of a JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover.

What you will not do, “consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel”-nim, is hound me on multiple accounts and then change platform to hound me again. I’m absolutely not having it.

I have never received an interaction quite like this before, and I cannot help but wonder if this is because this is my first work in the Ghosts/HH/Them There/Six Idiots/Yonderland/Bill fandom: that this is where you primarily camp out.

So it’s at this point I ask the Them There/Six Idiots fandom if they have/if they know anyone who has had a run-in with this person or thinks they may have, or if anyone perhaps even knows who this is? Maybe I’m just one of many. Maybe this is a necessary fandom evil I was unaware of.

This experience has left me royally freaked out, as one might imagine, especially since my anxiety in general has been acting up due to it being exam season. I want to thank everyone who’s read my rambles on Discord and on here and even listened to them irl and offered support from the bottom of my heart.

I’ve enabled comment moderation on the fic. I will continue to write it, and I will put exactly what I, and only what I, want in it.

Believe it or not, I wanted to do literally anything else today.

Anon: Fucking Leave Me Alone.

Update: Just reiterating: Carl is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl is a cool dude and I want to sincerely apologise for having brought him into this mess, passing judgment on his character, and making him feel like he should stop practicing English online.

[amisbro]

Let’s answer this

If someone asked me RIGHT NOW “Where are you in terms of UtaPri and the fandom?” That is arguably the most complicated question I would ever have to answer...and I took World Culture in High School!

Okay let’s be serious UtaPri is legit one of the few franchises that tests me mentally in the sense of Figuring out Broccoli’s next move with Merch What they could do gamewise What is going to happen with the Anime Information on other projects (Shining Masterpiece/Theater ,DVDs ,Stage shows etc.) What the next step in the universe would be as a whole with the different units and COULD THEY CREATE MORE...I never discussed this one but its something I had been thinking about Its also one of the few that has allowed me to mess with the Canon and treat groups that might not have been treated fairly and write them in ways that I enjoy...matter of fact SPOILER TIME but one of the next fic works coming this month is my yearly Birthday concert but with a twist that you’ll see for the first time when the birthday comes up. It HAS also been one of the more frustrating fandoms lately that I have been in/dealt with and I’m not going to bullshit it anymore. History Lesson So back in 2013 (and more specifically near the end of it I discovered a gif of one of the characters from the series...at the time I had no idea who it was and ,if you remember, Tumblr made an update that hid the tags unless you went in the post on a person’s blog (generally the OP) and found out what it was.  In this case it was Ren Jingugji of STARISH whom I found out was voiced by Junichi Suwabe.  That name sounded familiar and I discovered he was in BroCon as the brother Kaname whom was a Monk (and also a womanizer...there’s a comho) (Also if I got the occupation for Kaname wrong I apologize.  I could have sworn that was his occupation but its been a while since I watched the series so forgive me on the mistake if there was one) Well after this discovery about UtaPri I went and looked it up on my favorite website (okay second...ANN is first anymore) in Wikipedia and I discovered it was a Otome/Visual Novel game and that intrigued me...what intrigued me more was researching some of the characters and at the time legit five intrigued me Natsuki Shinomiya of STARISH and the whole of QN QN was interesting because ,since I was just discovering UtaPri at this point, I knew jack about them...but I wanted to see what I could learn about them from observation/  Legit the ONLY SPOILER I retained at the time was that Ai was programmed with the memory of Aine or something of that effect...again its been a good while. Season 1 I watched through DVD and if you go through this blog you will see that I did two different blogs on that and Season 2.  When I did Season 2 that was through the site crunchyroll and I remember at the time I was talking with someone using the “Fan Mail” option (hey tumblr staff bring that back will ya...I actually liked that option) and before I got to Season 2 someone had told me about Camus.  The reason for this was because I mentioned (at the time) I despised Ren’s character for being a womanizing playboy that didn’t give a s**t about being an idol.  Now yes that was actually wrong but it was the thing I remembered from my first watch through (which was when the conversation with the tumblr user occurred). Before we discuss Season 2 you have to know this.  Because I knew at the time info would be readily available on the “initial 6″ (Cecil wasn’t in STARISH yet) legit the only one I remembered reading about was Natsuki and originally I thought I was going to enjoy his character...matter of fact for anyone that wants to know that doesn’t from S1 the “Best Boy” spot was something like this Tokiya (before Cecil has {BEEEEP]) Cecil And once the Season was rewatched it was Ren after realizing the crap he not only went through in Season 1 but then later in Season 2 HOWEVER Once Season 2 came about and QN was introduced anyone that knows me knows that my faves showed up in Ai and Camus (and also Ran)...Reiji I never could really embrace and I have TRIED!  Something about him I just can’t get with. (I know I know...I can’t deal with him but I have no issue with Myu right?  Yeah I’ve been working on that one for over 4 years and it ain’t easy) So Season 2 was ON FIRE! Legit all of the songs I could kind of embrace (I legit replayed Crystal Time all day for like 3 weeks straight if I remember...might have been shorter but it was a murderous loop trust me) and the story (for the most part) was a very light and funny tone from what I remembered.  Yeah there were the “heavy” moments but you didn’t want to have a nervous breakdown after the episodes ended...that was me in Season 4 when Episode 11 happened BUT ANYWAYS Season 2 was ALSO the introduction of the “Renegade Princes” in HEAVENS and around this time they were just a trio (June 6th would be the airdate and the “official” birthday of HEAVENS I guess?  I think some use the 27th of June so its funny) and I was like most people.  I wanted them to fall on their ass and never be seen again so we could get to the STARISH/QN part of the story (cos I legit watched the SSX OVA like 50 times and can damn near recite that fucker word for word if I remember scenes hard enough...I think it was the first time I saw Myu with glasses too!) Now here was the thing about HEAVENS AT FIRST I was like the fandom like “Look at these jackasses.  All they want to do is start shit and cause problems for STARISH so they need their ass beat” and well they did lose and I think I remember the first time being REALLY HAPPY about it but I think around the second time I THINK (and I would have to go back through my notes) I was less harsh on them.  I know by the time I got to their debut episode (and I finished it) a THIRD TIME I had no issues with them left...then again this might have been during the space between Season 3 and 4. Actually...yeah the third watch was between Season 3 and 4 cos I wanted to see how the “Original Trio” acted and then I would compare that with the “new boys” later.  If I remember right (cos I am trying to NOT rewrite history) when I first saw the “Fully Powered” HEAVENS The one I probably took the most issue with was Van (sorry @baku5ds) but it was because he reminded me of Ren from Season 1 and I wanted to deck his ass...still kind of want to punch him then for acting like a knob but he’s aight now! Season 4 was going to be an interesting time for me See before Season 4 started I remember asking people how they thought the season was going to go and they thought it would go like this HEAVENS would lose (well they were initially DQ’d so kind of right) and then it would be down to STARISH and QN with HEAVENS as background characters (which is what they were in Season 3 cos we didn’t see them again till the new 7 showed up). When we found out it was going to be duets between STARISH and HEAVENS it became interesting for me because remember this:  Because I watched legit the initial debut for the Trio (and their subsequent loss) twice a part of me wanted to see what Broc would do FOR THEM because I personally had kind of “been there/done that” with STARISH and I learned as much as I could for three seasons and dealing with their personalities...nothing wrong with that but after a while you need to interject new characters to freshen up a series. One thing I remember being asked was basically this “How can you like HEAVENS when you don’t know about them?” (That’s not the question verbatim but considering this question was on skype legit now over 2 years old I dunno if I can find it again) We have to remember that around the time of Season 2 (when I watched it) I legit only remembered Ai’s part of the wikipedia entry so...why should I have liked QN? I really DIDN’T read the STARISH part of the wikipedia entry so why have liked them? See the way I work as a fan is through observation and I see what I see and then make my judgements based on that.  I STILL think that the School staff was borderline antagonistic (all of them and that includes Shining) and when STARISH officially got to debut with Nanami as the composer I smiled cos in the end the “bad guys” (even if they really weren’t) “got theirs” What I got legit curious about was this during Season 4 Even if my opinion and a STARISH fan’s opinion on HEAVENS never matched up could we have that civil discussion to say “okay you don’t like them that’s cool but please respect that I do” We all know about the “3 weeks of hell” and I won’t relive those but those were the WORST 3 weeks of my life.  I legit think I damn near had a headache that lasted that entire stretch I was that annoyed cos I could legit see the story in front of me but everyone else was like “Nah fam...that ain’t true” then HEAVENS lost in the Triple S after their perseverance of dealing with “Daddy’s bulls**t” and I don’t know if I was more annoyed about that or the prior weeks with the “EiiOto Mess” and the rest of the duet project cos in my head I knew one part of the fandom would be THRILLED while the other would be annoyed...I think anyone that knows me knows where i was to the point someone made a stalk account on twitter to try and get on me...didn’t work cos I know how to block people! ANYWHO! I’m going to try and keep the rest of this brief af...I say try so we won’t go over 6th stage (and how I thought that was a trainwrck...maybe I was too harsh back then to be honest) but I do want to discuss this Whenever I hear (and others I know) that “HEAVENS’ role is only to make STARISH better” I half ass chuckle because if we are talking about groups to make STARISH BETTER well...there was QN and then STARISH was again kind of like “Nah fam” and we know what happened. I dunno that I am annoyed with the fanbase...matter of fact I can almost tell you flat out I’m not but if I had a gripe with the “Western/International” base it felt more like at times y’all didn’t want there TO BE fans of the “Renegade Princes” because I know a friend of mine made a VERY INNOCENT post when it came to Shining Live and HEAVENS and they asked “What would the HEAVENS fans want in Shining Live for them” and I remember the Anons and how they were kind of rude...not a good way to grow a fanbase kids. Let’s be clear on this and I’m going to try and make this brief I don’t hate STARISH nor their fans I don’t hate QN or their fans (obviously I am one) I’m more frustrated because you see when you are someone like me who IRL dealt with a lot of s**t and was an underdog his whole life I always root for them...I want to see that upset! I think I would have enjoyed STARISH’s story a bit more IF they showed that they could “take it on the chin” one time and then go “Okay we lost that round...let’s give it hell next time!” I know they technically COULDN’T do that with the story they were telling but don’t you think that Suwabe right?  He worked on KnB and he could have said “Well look...in this series my school beat the main school (Seirin) and then they came back eventually and beat us...couldn’t we do something like that?” Irony before anyone says anything is he ,SuzuKen ,Kishow ,OnoD ,to a lesser extent Shimono and Tatsun (might have been more...I think Toriumi was on Suwabe’s team) all knew what happened but I think because of certain issues they HAD to write UtaPri where STARISH was basically unstoppable...best guess It gets frustrating sometimes to be a fan of the series (less so for me now that I play on the JP account more full-time now) and you want...really all of the groups to do well but you know you really want your group to do well.  It also somewhat gets upsetting when you ask people “Would you watch a season that was just HEAVENS?” and then they tell you they would skip it...never mind that you watched effectively 2 full seasons of the “main group” but EYYY I dunno I think I get agitated and I know there are others that do too.  I would NEVER just turn my back on the franchise because I love it but I think I just wish that HEAVENS got repped well on this site and even facebook better than I feel like they do.  I think sometimes they will never get this “stigma” of being an “antagonist” off of them and that sucks...but for some people the “first impression is the one that lasts” so I can’t fault that anymore I guess In closing I don’t think I could ever leave UtaPri behind but all I want is what is best for my boys and hopefully their day is coming very soon Au Revoir!

[imaginetonyandbucky]

On one of incorrect quotes blog I found this dialogue: Bucky: In 20 years, I guarantee you, I will be Tony's second husband. Tony: What happened to my first husband? Bucky: Nothing you can prove. Could you write a story with this dialogue?

Nothin’ you can prove.

Author note: Hi! I’m the new author/artist, wyvernfire! (Though you are likely to find my fandom works over at getmcfucked, haha.) This is my first fill for this blog. I adored this prompt and had to snatch it up. Hope I did alright!

[AO3 Link]

“I'm serious, Stevie.”

“I know you are,” Steve said, but he had that stupid little grin that meant he absolutely did not know how serious Bucky was. “I'm sure you'll be very good for each other.”

Bucky scoffed. “No shit. I'm not marrying him on a whim.”

“You're not even dating him yet,” Steve pointed out oh-so-helpfully.

(mobile users watch out for the readmore!)

Smug (not so) little punk.

“What, you think I won't?” Bucky challenged. “I'm going to date the shit out of him.”

The carrots on the cutting board didn't stand a chance. One of the orange circles flew off under the force of the blade and Steve caught it, popping it in his mouth happily. Bucky spun the blade to flick another piece of carrot-y debris at his friend. It hit Steve square on the nose, which cheered Bucky up considerably.

“What's his favourite flower?” Bucky tried to sound casual.

Steve snorted. “A bouquet? You're gonna buy the billionaire some flowers?”

“It's a classic courting gift, Stevie.” Bucky slid the carrot slices off the cutting board and into the food processor next to him, then reached for the bananas. They looked weird. Long and a little too pale yellow, but Steve had assured him that bananas had just changed since the 40s. Something about a fruit plague. It was weird. He started slicing them too. “You don't buy flowers for your pal, you buy them for your gal or your fella. It's romantic. A big giant 'I want to date you’ sign. Can't be misinterpreted. You remember that time with Masie?”

“Who?” Steve scrunched up his nose.

“That little brunette gal you liked. Got her a bracelet and--”

“She thought it was a swell birthday present,” Steve grumbled, looking suddenly glum. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem,” Bucky grinned. “I know you got memory problems n’all that. What with the old age and--”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve growled. Bucky laughed.

Apparently deciding that he could actually be helpful for once, Steve lifted himself off the bar stool and cleared away the banana peels, chucking them into a flat green bin that had 'Compost’ scrawled across the top in Bruce's handwriting.

“Remind me again what sparked this interest?” Steve asked, and the tone was a little off.

Bucky frowned. “Why?”

Steve shrugged, grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped off his hands. “Curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Bucky warned.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Steve said without missing a beat. “So spit it out.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve trying to figure out where the rigid posture and puffed out chest had come from. He mentally went over their conversation again, not finding anything that should've stepped on the man's toes but with Stevie? Who knew. Might be another one of those future things he'd have to research.

Well, in for a penny…

“Communal shower at the gym,” Bucky said with a wolfish grin. “Timed it juuuust right. That ass is a work of art.”

There it was. The disapproval that had been simmering since the topic had been broached. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to smooth down his instinctively raised hackles, and maybe not start a fist fight in the kitchen. It was only his second week in the tower, after all. No one needed to know how many issues between he and Steve got resolved by playing Bloody Knuckles. Yet, at least. Just seemed impolite.

“So you want to sleep with Tony,” Steve clarified in that same tone he used as Captain America.

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt. “No, I said I wanna marry him. Clean the gunk outta your ears.”

Steve frowned. “And you decided this based off of his ass?”

“Yep,” Bucky said, popping the 'p’ loudly. “Work of art.”

Steve's frown deepened into a full on disapproving scowl. “I don't think that's a good idea, Buck.”

“Oh?” Bucky widened his eyes with surprise and batted them as innocently as someone with a world class kill count feasibly could. “Why's that?”

“Tony's��� been through a lot,” Steve started carefully.

Bucky nodded, the perfect picture of active listening, sliding the banana slices into the food processor and screwing in the plastic lid until it clicked.

“He may have a reputation for sleeping around but--”

Bucky turned on the food processor, drowning out the rest of Steve's sentence. The blond stammered mid-word then tried again.

“But he's actually quite sensitive--”

Bucky turned the food processor up from Grate to Grind, still watching Steve with wide patient eyes. Not much good came out of the whole Winter Soldier thing, but his poker face was solid. Steve squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was doing it on purpose. Bucky blinked back.

“And I think,” Steve practically shouted over the noise, “that stringing him along for sex would hurt him pretty bad. He's a good man--”

He pressed the Liquify button, willpower being the only thing keeping unrestrained glee off of his face. Steve's mouth snapped shut and he glared. Bucky bent his knees a little, leaning over to peer at the orange-y mush spinning around inside the food processor. He pretended to inspect it for a couple seconds before nodding approvingly. He pressed the off button.

Steve looked like he was ready to strangle him.

“Sorry Stevie, were you sayin’ somethin’?”

Steve puffed out a breath of air and honest to God closed his eyes and counted. Incredible. If only he'd picked up the skill in the 40s when he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.

“I'm saying that Tony is a good friend, Buck. He was my first friend when I woke up and…” His eyes gentled, looking down at the kitchen flooring. “I would hate to see him hurt. That's all.”

Bucky took the mixing component off the processor's stand and upended it slowly into the shiny metal mixing bowl that sat under a high powered mixing tool. Kitchen appliances these days were insane. He tapped the side, making sure to get all of it before putting the plastic in the sink.

“And I know you, Buck,” Steve said, that godawful 'please don't disagree’ undertone as blaringly obvious as the bright blue plaid stretched across his chest.”I know you can be a charming son of a bitch when you want to be--”

“Damn right.”

“--and if you pull Tony into a romantic relationship…” Steve floundered. “He puts his whole heart into things, is all. Even if he doesn't show it often.”

Bucky nodded slowly, considering. He pulled the fridge door open and grabbed two eggs, cracking them each into the mixing bowl before tossing the shells in the sink. He thought better of it then, fishing them out and shuffling towards the compost bin. Steve obligingly opened the lid for him, then handed him the towel after he rinsed his hands. He leaned against the sink, taking the time to make sure to get all the gooey bits out of the metal divots in his fingers.

Steve continued with a half smile. “So if you're just after a lay, I'm just saying that maybe he's not your best bet. Make sense?”

“Sure, yeah. Makes perfect sense.”

Bucky pulled a container of flour from one of the cabinets and carefully measured out two cups before dumping it into the mix. He could practically hear Steve's suspicion behind him as he worked and tried not to grin, adding a pinch of salt to the batter.

“Plus, folks these days don't make such a big thing outta casual sex,” Steve pushed his way through the sentence and the blush was audible. Jesus. “There are all these, uh. Apps.”

“That right?” Bucky said, because he couldn't help himself. “Apps?”

“Yeah,” Steve coughed. “Nat showed me. There's uh, Tinder, Grindr, uh--”

Bucky snorted, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. Steve spluttered to a stop, eyes wide and face red, spitting out protests as Bucky turned the mixer on high to drown out his words. The irritation that settled into Steve's face still hadn't changed from the first time Bucky had pulled his sorry ass out of a back alley dumpster. All righteous anger and pride.

He flicked the mixer off and pulled the motorized apparatus back away from the bowl. He let the batter settle as he fished around for a flat spatula, seizing his prize with a triumphant grin and waving it at Steve's face before getting to work scraping the less mixed batter around the sides the bowl into the center. Guess even with all the fancy equipment some stuff still needed to be done by hand. Pity.

Nah, Bucky thought with a smile. Tony could probably fix that.

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough Steve was still staring at him petulantly.

“I mean it Buck,” Steve warned. “Don't hurt Tony.”

Bucky turned to face him fully, leaving the spatula in the bowl. He tilted his chin out challengingly, and gave Steve his best appraising look. Like expected, Steve didn't even flinch. Idiot.

“Yeah?” Bucky said. “Or what?”

Shock flickered over Steve's face, followed by disbelief, rage, and then finally suspicion.

“The hell do you mean 'or what?’ Or I'll kick your ass, that's what.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “See you're missin’ somethin’ vital here, Stevie.”

“Yeah? And what's that?” Steve's eyes widened as soon as the words were out of his mouth, quickly morphing into a sharp glare. “The helicarrier don't count, Buck. I wasn't fightin’ back. I still think I could kick your ass--”

“No you couldn't,” Bucky said blandly. “Couldn't in ‘42, and that ain't different now. I don't care if you moved a hundred weight classes. You're predictable as shit.”

Steve let out an offended sounding noise but Bucky cut him off.

“But that ain't what you're missin’. I mean, you are missing common fucking sense apparently, but that wasn't what I was getting at.” He paused in his improvised lecture to start digging through cabinets for a baking pan.

Lots of cookie sheets, a couple cupcake tins, did they not have a--oh, there it was. Bucky's metal hand clinked around the side of the bread pan as he pulled it free. Steve was still going on about how he had plenty more experience now or some shit, like it could at all compare to seventy goddamn years of professional assassinations. He grinned. Some things never changed.

“Steve. Stevie,” Bucky interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “Deep breaths, pal.”

“I don't have asthma anymore, Buck--”

“You're still turnin’ bright pink.”

Steve scowled something fierce. “Y’know what, Buck? Go right ahead. Sleep with Tony. But don't expect me to help or support you in this. It's cruel and I can't believe you would--”

“Stevie, Jesus Christ, would you take a goddamn breath for a sec? Lemme speak.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, somehow managing to look just as annoying as he had in the 40s. Bucky fought off another grin. It was hard to stay mad when he was finally stable, finally able to participate in this insane future world he found himself in. Living the impossible where Steve was taller than him and they both recently celebrated their hundredth birthdays.

Same future where a man in a metal suit could soar through the air, leaving birds in the wake behind him.

“You seem to be forgetting that part where I said I'm gonna marry him,” Bucky mirrored Steve's pose, meeting his gaze evenly. “I ain't exaggerating.”

Irritation left Steve's face slowly, but the suspicion was still there. And honestly, it was a little relieving to be suspected of toying with someone's heart rather than stabbing it. Felt more normal.

“I don't get it,” Steve finally said. “You said you made this decision when you--”

“Communal showers, yep,” Bucky nodded, affirming. He chewed the inside of his cheek a little, doing a little suspicious staring of his own. He sighed loudly. “You really gonna make me talk about my feelings right now?”

“Yep,” Steve said evenly, popping the 'p’ extra loud in his best imitation of Bucky.

What a punk.

He groaned loudly, scuffing his feet on the floor as he moved, taking his sweet time dumping the batter into the bread pan. Steve could just sit there and wait. It wasn't like they were getting any older.

When he finally slid the pan into the oven and set the timer Steve had slid back over to the kitchen stools, perched there and waiting like an overgrown and judgmental bird.

“Well?”

Bucky scowled. He stalked across the kitchen, stopping at the sink so that he could stare Steve down properly, and let the humour leave his face. He sure as hell wasn't going to be having this conversation twice.

Steve flinched, looking behind Bucky towards the door. He opened his mouth, “Uh, Buck--”

“No, you want me to talk feelings? Let's talk about my goddamn feelings,” Bucky snapped.

Steve winced.

“Tony ain't just a mechanic with a suit. Sure, it's incredible, like somethin’ outta those sci-fi books I used to get. I mean, a guy flying outside of a plane on its own is something for the records, but he makes it look graceful. Effortless. And it is for him,” Bucky shook his head, reaching down into the sink to flick bits of debris down the garbage disposal. He didn't want to see Steve's reaction yet. “Everything is. That mind of his is somethin’ else, Stevie. But it doesn't stand a chance against his heart.”

Steve's eyes widened more, and he glanced at the door behind Bucky again. Bucky snapped his fingers to get Steve's attention back on him, feeling marginally more satisfied when Steve cringed and obliged.

“I dunno if you all just got used to it, or if there's somethin’ I'm missin’, but he pours his whole goddamn soul into the Avengers. And I don't just mean funding.” Bucky stepped to the side to open one of the closer cabinets and gestured to all the various and weird cereals, snacks, and internationally imported treats that were stocked in meticulous order. “He takes the time to know you. Figure out how to turn a tower into a home. I know for a fact some of this shit was discontinued, and Nat's weird chips are definitely illegal by FDA standards. But that doesn't stop Stark.”

A small smile crossed Steve's face and maybe he was finally getting it. Bucky closed the cabinet and shook his head.

“Thing is, Stevie, the world can't be saved. No matter how ready your heroes are, no matter how good your tech is. You put one fire out and it starts another.” He held up a placating hand before Steve could interrupt him. “I ain't sayin’ that that means it ain't worth tryin’. But it's just a fact of the business. For every Captain America, there's always gonna be a Winter Soldier.”

Steve's smile faded into a pressed grim line. So Bucky pushed past it.

“Tony does it anyway. He ain't got powers, ain't got enhancements, nothin’. He's just a guy with a suit. An awesome suit, but,” Bucky conceded a little, “no obligation. And he still goes into it just like you lot do. But he goes in with his heart wide open.”

The blond’s eyes watched him thoughtfully, still occasionally seeking the door, but calmer.

“And I ain't sayin’ that you all don't care. M’not. Just that there ain't nobody on this horrible planet that still goes into hell with his heart as open and vulnerable as Tony does.” Bucky shrugged. “Don't gotta be close to the guy to see it.”

Steve nodded slowly. After a minute or so, his eyes found Bucky's again. “So you're serious about him then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Christ, Stevie. I sure think so.”

Steve laughed a little, looking considerably more at ease. That whole 'fight me’ vibe had simmered and faded, leaving curiosity glittering in his eyes. Or trouble. Probably trouble.

“And you're gonna marry him, huh?”

“Yep,” Bucky said, popping the 'p’ extra loud. “So you better get on board, Rogers.”

“Oh, you got a plan now?” Steve grinned. “Know his favourite flowers yet?”

Bucky snickered. “I'll figure out the plan along the way. Tell you what though. In ten years? I’m gunna be Tony Stark’s second husband.”

Steve was giggling again in that way that only meant trouble. Bucky tried to look exasperated but his smile probably gave him away.

“What, punk? What’re you laughin’ at--”

“What happened to my first husband?” said a cheerful voice behind him.

Bucky froze. Steve's laughter was now generously peppered with wheezes and snorts. Of course. Of course.

Fuck it.

Bucky turned around and gave Tony his most charming grin. “Nothin’ you can prove.”

He held up his hand over his shoulder and Steve high fived him instantly. Good to know Rogers was on board, at least.

Tony laughed, a little under his breath, and shifted his weight back and forth. Like he was nervous. Bucky tilted his head and waited. Eventually those big brown eyes were back on him and the grin he'd seen plastered all over magazines and TV screens couldn't have held a candle to the one in front of him. Bucky's heart gave a traitorous little thump.

“Yeah, alright. I'll bite,” Tony said with a nod, looking genuinely pleased. His brow quirked just a little. “Favourite flowers are red Columbines. Remind me of something I'm pretty fond of. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip to try and keep from grinning like an idiot. “Red Columbines. Got it.”

“You can pick me up at eight on Friday,” Tony informed him, trying to keep the playfulness off his face and only barely getting any traction. “Wear something nice. You know what, just let Nat pick it out for you.”

“Aw, you don't think I could charm you all by myself?” Bucky asked and thanked every deity he could think of (including Thor) that his voice didn't wobble. “And here I was going to put on my best hoodie and everythin’.”

Tony laughed again and Bucky couldn't help the way his grin widened.

“Friday. Eight o’clock sharp. Don't be late,” Tony said, wavering a bit where he stood.

“Anything for you, doll,” Bucky winked.

Tony gave an embarrassing little giggle snort that Bucky would treasure for the rest of his goddamn days, then turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Bucky didn't need to look behind him to know that Steve was grinning.

“I did try to stop you,” Steve offered, not even able to get the words out without laughing.

“You're such a punk.”

Steve laughed at him some more and Bucky didn't bother trying to hide the dopey smile on his face.

“Though, he was probably coming to the kitchen to get food, not be proposed to,” Steve pointed out. “And I don't think he's consumed anything that isn't coffee in a couple days.”

Bucky's smile dropped off his face and he whirled around to check the timer. Fifteen minutes left of baking. Fifteen minutes to school his expression into something that wasn't gag worthy.

“I'll make sure to bring him some fresh carrot-banana bread. He likes all that healthy shit, right?”

“Mhmm.” Steve nodded.

“Good,” Bucky said, leaning back against the counter and trying to catch his breath. His heart was still hammering away worse than it had in years and he couldn't get enough of it. The dizzy feeling spread down to his knees as he realized Tony hadn't exactly said no to the whole accidental marriage proposal.

Well then. Ain't that somethin’.

“Good,” Bucky said again, the grin back in full spread. “Maybe I can cut down the plan to four years.”

Steve laughed and Bucky barely noticed.

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ Ch 26

It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 26 ~ Take me to Church

Chapters: 26/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: I always want to apologize so much for not cranking chapters out at a consistent pace. But then I feel bad for keeping you guys from the new chapter, so go! Go on! We have time for all this later!

As always, prompts, links, and tidbits are always available here on Striving Scribe. Hey :) If you like what I’m about, and you want to help me navigate an Ikea warehouse, you could totally follow my tumblr and heart some entries :3 That’d be cool of you.

And hey…thanks :)

Solas did not sulk or stomp because such methods of expression were beneath him. However… he was in quite the sour mood, and no amount matured grace could disrupt that. He was only moderately irritated to find the two new elves—Magpie’s long lost clansmen—sitting inside the quarters they’d all been sharing while tending to Amy. “Solas?” Magpie, ever the keen eyes on her, focused on him for all but two seconds before realizing he was not quite as content as usual. She did not elaborate her question, only letting it hang in the air. Allowing him the option of an out… “Forgive me. I hope I am not interrupting. I must pack.” “Pack?” A continuation of the previous question, further focused. Solas drew a settling breath before reporting back. “I have been informed that Samuel along with myself, Sera, and the Iron Bull will be leaving tomorrow morning before first light.” He crossed the room, retrieving his pack from beneath the bed frame where he usually kept it when he was back in Haven. There was a beat of silence as he began placing items, mostly clothing, into the pack. “Does Amy know?” Of course, that would be Magpie’s first question. “I am not in charge of that.” Solas murmured, something he had heard Amy say at one point which Magpie had parroted. “Is there anything you’d like us to do while you’re away?” this came from the male elf—Tunan, Magpie had called him earlier. Solas half turned to stare back at him, expecting that to be some sort of glib form of sass…. but looking between the two newcomers, he saw only sincerity. He blinked rapidly before looking to Magpie who seemed… smug. “Yes, Hahren.” Magpie cooed, looking far too pleased with this circumstance. “Isn’t there anything you might want us to do?” He narrowed his eyes, still not sure what any of this was about. “Other than keeping Amy safe? There’s little more that I could ask for.” “The little lady in the tavern that everyone gathers around?” Tunan asked with a neutral look on his face. He nodded. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.” “You might be surprised.” Magpie half grumbled. “Especially with the mood she’s been in lately.” “She has been relatively compliant, all things considered.” Solas reminded. He had expected opposition from Amy, same as the Commander, but… the breakaway to the stables notwithstanding, she had been a diligent patient. Even he couldn’t fault her for wanting to take care of her animal. “Yeah, maybe.” Magpie still seemed reluctant. “What?” Solas’s focus sharpened on her. “Have you noticed any inconsistencies?” Magpie’s mouth skewed sideways before she finally confessed. “It’s just… that song of her’s has gotten so much more aggressive.” “She’s been singing?” Solas couldn’t keep the surprise (and the twinge of betrayal) out of his tone. “No!” Magpie was quick to rebut his question. “I mean…” she lay her palm out on her chest and thumped it twice. “Her song.” He felt himself straighten, his arms go slack. Magpie’s eyes remained on him, pinning him in place. “You know what I mean.” He blinked rapidly, trying to think of some way to plausibly explain away the implausible. “You mean that weird music that just follows her around?” this came from the female sibling—Tunen. “I mean, it’s not really common...but some mages with really strong magic can do something like that. I remember one of the old mothers used to do that around the littles—” “She isn’t a mage, though.” Magpie confided. “Or at least, she wasn’t till...before this whole mess with the breach.” “It’s also not something that everyone can hear.” Solas continued. “This...this music is unique to Amy. It is not entirely auditory, and…” he shook his head. “What?” Magpie asked. “What is it that you keep trying not to say, that you want so badly to say to someone?” He sighed, looking at her. “I thought only mages could hear it.” Solas confessed. “Siheta, Elossa, Baxtien, they’ve all experienced it, and while you have responded to it.. I theorized that perhaps it wasn’t because you heard it so much as you were...reacting to it subliminally.” Magpie scrunched her lips up in a pout, glaring at him...though there was less anger and more resentment. “You could make that argument for Elossa with ease. She’s even sung with Amy, but anytime you ask her where she knows the song from she just says that it’s a song she’s always known, or some other absent minded dismissal.” Solas’s eyes dart between the two twins. “And the two of you hear it as well?” They nodded. “And you are not mages either.” “That’s assuming a lot.” Tunen said with a smirk. Solas met her eyes before looking to the bow slung on her back and the many throwing daggers on her belt. Tunan had propped the enormous sword he’d come in with against the wall, but there was no denying his muscular biceps. The boy's was wider than most elves Solas had seen... though if that had to do with training or nutrition, he could not tell. Still, the evidence of a swordsman was right in front of him. “Let people make their assumptions.” Tunan replied. “The best skill to have is the one that’s hidden.” He returned to his seated position against the wall, half reclining there. “So. Watch out for the woman. That all?” “And each other.” Solas murmured, letting them think they had effectively changed the subject. “That goes without saying.” Tunan murmured. “This music business is strange though. It’s fairly rare in magic-users, and someone who has no magic?” He shook his head. “...yet... to find that others can hear it or respond to it.” “Siheta says that where Amy’s from, magic is different. It’s all internal, with no external source, like…” she shrugged. “Like there’s no Fade….or, if there is, it’s locked away behind an internal veil.” she shook her head. “She explains it better than I do, but they have her running so many errands for Flissa and Adan just to justify her mobility as a mage that it’s hard to have a sit-down with her like we used to.” “Where is this woman from, exactly?” Tunen asked, confused and a touch repulsed by Magpie’s description of where Amy is from. “Don’t know. Not here.” was all she said, though Solas got the sneaking suspicion that she knew more than she was letting on. “That explains certain things…” Solas murmured, returning to stuffing his pack. “It also seems… that the concept of the self-renewing system would be more valid.” he relented begrudgingly. Magpie cocked her head just slightly before slowly murmuring. “Which means...observation would be better than abstinence…” she suggested. “Especially if it’s the sort of thing that helps to sustain her…” Magpie’s eye sharpened as Solas looked away. “What? What is it that keeps you from agreeing with Siheta?” Magpie felt her molars grind before muttering, “I swear, Solas, if this is a point of pride…” Tunan snickered and mumbled. “Solas. A point of pride.” Tunen joined in with her brother, the two of them giggling like four year-olds. Still, Magpie couldn’t quite fault the humor in the statement and even Solas was fighting a smirk. “It isn’t that...entirely.” Solas finally relented. “However…” he searched for the right words to say even as he began folding clothes for packing. “However, I am reluctant to relent my position with a subject so delicate.” “Please…” Magpie pleaded. “Don’t let Amy hear you refer to her as ‘delicate’.” “What sort of fool do you take me for?” Solas joked. “Firstly, I’ve no intention of taking you at all. Not until you clean up your act, at least.” she sniffed, attempting a haughty air. “And Secondly, the sort that might divert attention onto something else just to see how another would weather a storm.” Magpie put her hands on her hips. “Like how you happened to tell Sam and Cullen where Amy and I would be eating.” Solas’s eyes flickered in Magpie’s general direction before returning to the task of packing. Magpie let that continue without comment or confrontation for a moment before sighing. Her shoulders relaxed a touch, and she mentally reminded herself that this wasn’t a fight she wanted. “Still, I know that you’re genuinely worried. I just wish you wouldn’t deflect so much, because then we could address the actual problem.” Solas stalled, taking perhaps a touch too long to evaluate one pair of breeches that were very nearly ready to fall apart and crawl away on their own. “I’m just saying, when you’re concerned, I’m concerned.” Magpie continued, finally gaining a glance from him. “Mostly because you’re so damn slippery.” she grumbled. “I can peg the others and all that they’re concerned about.” “Can you now?” Solas asked, only a touch skeptical. Her insight had been fairly accurate. He had been able to semantically feint in order to throw her off here and there, but… it never worked for very long. Magpie shrugged. “Sam’s worried about Amy getting hurt. Cullen too, for the most part. Leliana’s worried about that, but mostly because she sees Amy as a resource. Sure, she wants to exploit Amy, but she'd rather keep her alive, and she's willing to fight to do it.” she let out a slow huff. “Josephine’s worried about how Amy will translate in a more grand arena. Bull… Bull’s worried that Amy’s gonna break his world… and Varric’s worried that the world will break Amy.” Her eyes narrowed. "Blackwall's harder to peg. He doesn't spend as much time around Amy as the others... He's worried about something..." Solas took a deep breath. “I like to worry about things from multiple angles. Suffice to say… There are many variables concerning Amy’s circumstance.” Magpie’s eyebrows twitched up. “Well… you’re not wrong.” Her eyes trained on the wooden wall to her left, as though she could map out her problems in the wood grain. It possessed no secrets as far as Solas was concerned, but whatever she saw there seemed to decide her. “Come on, Tues.” she said, looking between her twin friends. “Haven isn’t big, but you still need to know the in’s and out’s. Besides,” she smirked back at Solas. “the old man probably needs his rest.” “Always so thoughtful.” Solas muttered, raising a single eyebrow. She only wore a half smile, but it shined in her eyes in a way that...he wasn’t quite used to. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before now… It has been present more often than not lately. That look softened her taunts significantly. Magpie half sauntered-half skipped through the doorway like the precocious child she often was, while the twins seemed more befuddled. Their rounded eyes slipped back and forth between Magpie and Solas, regarding their clan-mate with shock and Solas with a strange form of...reverence? Their regard was new to him, as though they were waiting for instruction or permission of some sort. The male twin reacted first. With a shrug, he hefted himself up and took up space by the doorway, holding it open while his sister darted out after Magpie. He then hurried through himself, closing the door behind them. Leaving Solas to ponder this strange change between his and Magpie’s typically frigid encounters. Once the door was shut, Solas surveyed his traveling pack. He’d find no answers there, but it wasn’t going to fill itself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The room did not smell bad. The scent was odd because there was so little in the way of scent. It was absence of scent, only cold stone...which wasn’t fragrant in the least. Even so, Amy knew that this train of thought was most persistent because she was trying to convince herself of it. Perhaps the facts were more important at this stage. The room was longer than it was wide. Standing in the center of the room with her arms stretched out, Amy couldn’t quite touch the walls...but one hard lean to one side or the other, and she’d definitely have contact. Still, she could probably get away with a cartwheel and a half from the back of the room to the doorway. “As I said, it is rather small.” Mother Giselle reminded, in the way that matronly figures say ‘I told you so’ without actually having to say the phrase. Amy smiled. “Don’t nehheed space.” Amy said. The summons to the chantry had been a bit of a shock for her since her movements had been so closely guarded of late. It turned out Mother Giselle had rolled high on initiative, and was addressing the need for Amy to have a distinct space in the chantry. She had spoken at length about a place where Amy might stay, now that she was going to be there for most of her time. Somewhere out of the way, where she could be found and consulted privately... Amy had felt shell shocked upon hearing it. She knew this discussion would happen, of course, but any planning had been left to the four winds. With no concrete plans in place, it felt like a vague and distant wave, looming before it crashes into a beach all Day-After-Tomorrow-style. And so, Amy had felt detached when Mother Giselle began to discuss places she could stay during the day. Of course, Amy assumed she would need to be both accessible and out of the way. In the game, companions were just… around. They were usually in places they’d probably linger anyway. Of all the options given, Mother Giselle had mentioned this small room in the hall between the kitchens and linen wash in an absent fashion. Amy had seized upon this. Like any good Hufflepuff, Amy would be just beside the kitchens! It was perfect! Well… not perfect, but honestly. Being upset was one thing, but refusing to make the best of the situation you have is ridiculous. Mother Giselle had seemed somewhat surprised, but not at all taken aback enough that she didn’t simply nod and commit to making that room as presentable as it could be. “I did warn you…” Mother Giselle was saying from the doorway. “It is not as grand as… well, shall we say, Madame Vivienne’s area. Or even Josephine’s offices really. It’s about half that size.” “S’ perfect.” she’d assured. She stared up the length of the walls. “Don’t need much.” She reminded. Amy looked back to Mother Giselle, hovering just inside the doorway. “Sleep here?” she asked, pointing down. The woman laughed, albeit abruptly. “Of course not, child.” she shook her head. “You’d freeze!” Amy shrugged, “Been thru worse.” “I have spoken to Lady Montilyet concerning your sleeping quarters.” she paused, evaluating the words she chooses next carefully. “Evidently, it is Sister Leliana’s wish that you remain very close.” Amy hummed in acknowledgment. That was...well. Understandable, she supposed. “What sort of furnishings would you like?” Mother Giselle queried. Amy thought about it for a moment before signing. “Chair… sihm-pal table or desk…” she eyed the long walls. “Sheeeelves.” she shook her head. “Sparse.” “You’re not worried about offending chantry sensibilities, I hope.” Mother Giselle said with a small smile. “You know that you don’t have to adopt an austere taste simply because you reside inside the chantry?” that smile seemed almost coy. Amy smirked. “Sim-pel best for now.” Amy shrugged before opening the door and keeping it open for Mother Giselle to walk though. “ ‘Specially since… I still don’t know...what I’m doing.” Mother Giselle’s smile was sympathetic. “New roles take some adjustment. I’m sure everyone will understand.” As Amy closed the door to her new space, she felt a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach. It made her vision sway, and she found herself leaning rather heavily against the now-closed door. She felt Mother Giselle’s hand delicately rest against her shoulder. “You are still unwell.” “Comes and goes.” Amy murmured, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them. She was hoping that she could focus on a single point to reorient herself. There was a pause as one of the servants, Amy couldn't tell which at the moment (from this vantage point especially) it was.

“Does this happen often?” Mother Giselle asked, her voice low. It was then that Amy realized she was keeping her voice down so that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. A nice thought, but servants saw everything. It wasn't as if they wouldn't know her situation was rapidly changing, what with all the gossip and her routine changing so drastically. 

“Hazn’… not since…” Amy took a deep breath, feeling her ribcage expand to the point near pain. She held it for a scant second before letting that air filter out slow. “Since.. beeee-for tavern.” She took another breath before pushing away from the wall and willing her body to cooperate. Mother Giselle kept pace, giving her a surveying look from the corner of her eye. “That’s right. You were often given over to fits of weakness or dizziness before you began working regularly in the tavern.” Mother Giselle thought that over. “Is that something that typically happens to you when you are sick?” Amy considered her past life, restricting her memories to a simple survey of the facts before nostalgia and melancholy could pull her down. Typically, Amy slept a lot when she was sick… but even when she had to push herself, she tended to run fevers and need frequent breaks for water and to gulp in oxygen. She’d never had any sort of vertigo… and even when she had experienced vomiting, it had been swift and not lingering. This sickness, if that’s what it was, was a different animal. “No.” she said simply. Mother Giselle hummed thoughtfully at that. “Then perhaps there is something here, something unique, that you’re reacting to.” Mother Giselle shrugged as they reentered the Chantry proper. “It could be a great number of things.” Amy didn’t make eye contact or comment on this. The last thing that she wanted was another person diagnosing her. Jaga only knew what a chantry mother would think of her. “And to think, your health had improved so much.” Mother Giselle sighed. “Even your speech was strengthening.” She was right, of course, and that was so disappointing. Amy’s physical condition before this attack had been damn near prime. Her speech, while still impaired was vastly improving as well. True, long words and vowel sounds still got her at times… but she could speak small words in short bursts all together and sound out the rest. She only hoped that she could recover any physicality she’d lost quickly. “Ah. Chancellor Roderick.” Mother Giselle said by way of greeting when the chancellor happened to walk by. He paused, clearly in a huff on his way to or from somewhere. “Mother Giselle.” His eyes landed on Amy, narrowing before surveying her carefully. “Miss Amy.” Amy had met the good Chancellor in passing twice before now, and both times he had regarded her with what she interpreted as… confused disdain. She nodded her head, dutiful in her regard for his position if not for his attitude. “Chan-sel-or.” “I am overseeing Amy’s permanent transition to the Chantry.” Mother Giselle informed him with a smile. Amy had to wonder why. It wasn’t as if Mother Giselle approved of Roderick’s position, or that she was beholden to dole out information to him. Still, at her words, the Chancellor’s chin tilted just to the left. A strange smile settled on his face; 'strange' for the simple fact that it was odd because Amy wasn’t used to seeing it. “That is a relief to hear.” he said, his posture relaxing if only a touch. “The incident on the field is irreprehensible, and the long hours you work..” he shook his head. “It’s a pity this Inquisition,” he spat the word, “has done little in the way of providing for its workers, and the rumors spreading about you are absolutely vile.” Amy winced. “You cannot possibly blame the Inquisition for that, Chancellor.” Mother Giselle chided in an almost grandmotherly fashion. “Any young lady who spends her nights in a tavern is bound to garner a bit of ill repute.” That wasn’t news. Chancellor Roderick’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Not that. Those rumors are infantile in comparison.” “What old bone are you guarding now, Roderick?” Sam grumbled as he sauntered up to them. He winked at Amy as a substitute for a greeting. “The heretical blasphemy your organization is spewing.” “Isn’t most blasphemy heretical by nature?” Sam poked with a smirk that only made Roderick’s scowl more severe. “This poor child has worked herself to the bone, first with the servants and then in your tavern, and for what? For you to parade her about as a false prophet!” “Haaah?” Amy looked between the two of them in horror. “She doesn’t even know what you’ve done, does she!” Sam had the good sense to look sheepish for a moment, but it changed to an almost begrudging humor as his eyes found Amy. “Well.. you have to admit, Charmer, there was another figure whose song changed the hearts and minds of the people.” A sheepish smile spread over his face. “Someone with power in her song...” his eyes wandered to one of the effigies of Andraste before meeting hers again. Amy stared at him, not quite understanding...until she did.

She recoiled. “No.” she growled. She put up both of her arms and crossed them like an X in front of her face. “No, no, no-no-no!” Chancellor Roderick’s posture straightened noticeably as he nodded in her direction. As though he were seconding the motion. “Ok, first off,” he pointed to the Chancellor who was opening his mouth, most likely to issue some furiously righteous rant. “this,” he made a circular motion to their surroundings, “isn’t my anything. Not Haven, nor the Inquisition. If anything, I have been sequestered by madmen.” he took a deep breath. “And secondly, literally no one in the Inquisition instigated those rumors. Certainly none of the advisors, or myself, or Seeker Pentaghast.” “Sam.” Amy commanded, demanded, unyielding and furious though in a very quiet sort of way. Her mother would be so proud. Sam, for his part, seemed to hold his breath for a second before finally letting it out and deflating with it. “Charmer, I swear, the Inquisition had no intention of drawing any parallels between you and Andraste—” Amy’s mouth fell open, hearing it nearly made her head spin. “geeeh.” she breethed in disgust. “but! But, when it did surface… well, it’s better that people think of you as saintly than as a whore, right?” “No!” Amy crowed. “Whore’s are...are honest! Is oldest pro-fess-shun! Straight for-ward! Most saints are...are...char-let-tons!” she pointed at him. “I… am an honest...girl!” Sam smirked, sheepish now that he was good and scolded. “Better an honest whore than a sideways saint?” Amy nodded. “Just...just cuz I’m diff-rent…” she shook her head, looking down as she crossed her arms tightly. “Don’t know whu-why I am, but I am… and just cuz I am, doesn’t mean… I’m touched or speh-shial or sig-nif-ih-cant.” “You’re right.” Sam smiled. “You’re significant and touched and special for a lot of other reasons.” Amy stomped a foot (which her mother would not have endorsed). “Don’t be nice wah-hen I’mad at’chu.” she grumbled, making him chuckle. “Damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.” Sam said, tossing his head back like the muscles in his name had just given out. “Look…” he grumbled. “I don’t know why you think this is an ‘Inquisition’ issue.” he said to Roderick. “The rumors started in the chantry, here, that day when Charmer was singing.” Amy winced, remembering the song she’d sung for Sam. Amazing Grace had been an emotional memory as well as a fragile wish that Sam would garner some inspiration from the words of the song. Amy had been right about the acoustics of the chantry, and because of those acoustics, she’d been heard by many in the building. “So, this concept of her returning to the chantry for shelter from rumors started by my sinister organization is a complete load of crap.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Even you can’t deny Amy’s words and songs are powerful, because you certainly didn’t the entire time those rumors began brewing here, in-house as it were.” Chancel Roderick looked somewhat chastised, though his face puckered in a begrudging scowl. “I will not deny that the Maker has given her a great gift.” he said, and Amy marveled over how easily he surrendered those words. “What is so troublesome is the Inquisitions dash to allow those rumors to spread beyond this Chantry.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Because rumors are so easily controlled.” “They are, when your Nightengale decides they are detrimental and slanderous against your cause.” Chancellor Roderick growled evenly. “Is too late now.” Amy grumbled, lifting a hand to her forehead. The crown of her head felt tense and heavy now. It made for a tightness around her eyes that caused her vision to blur slightly. “You ok, Charmer?” Sam asked, his tone softening as he took his focus off of Roderick. She sighed, the breath puffing her chest and shoulders up before they fell in a dramatic slouch. “Fine.” “Hm.” he murmured, not convinced. “Well. I wanted to let you know that we’d be leaving tomorrow.” Amy blinked up at him. “At first light, Bull, Sera, Solas, and I are… gonna be hiking up the Frostbacks a bit.” he said, a clever glint in his eyes. “Seeing about those precautions you mentioned, to better strengthen fortifications and all.” That sounded like a more casual parroting of something Cullen had said. So, they were scouting for Skyhold… “How looohng?” Sam shrugged. “Solas seems to think it shouldn’t take too long, since we’re such a small scouting party. Maybe two days. Three tops.” Amy’s eyebrows rose. “Guess he’d know.” she mumbled. There hadn’t been a lot in-game to gauge exactly how long the trek from Haven to Skyhold was… One source she’d read surmised that it’d taken the freshly-attacked fledgling Inquisition an entire month to get there on account of unprepared civilians and pack animals being in tow. At the same time, the Inquisitor had seen Corephyus reopen the breach and gotten down the mountain in what seemed like no time at all… though… there was really no telling how much of that was just a game mechanic. “Oi. Stop pouting.” Sam snipped. “We’ll remember to be careful and drink water and take breaks.” he overly exaggerated the list, dulling his voice a ‘yes mom’ sort of tone. She scowled at him. “An’ be kind. Solas doesn’t ...get on well wif Bull’n’Sera.” “No, he really does not.” “We hafta re-mem-ber t’be kind… to each other.” Amy reminded, sighing heavily. “World is so un-kind.” Sam looked directly at Chancellor Roderick. “It really is.” While this didn’t do anything to lessen Chancellor Roderick’s scowl, it didn’t mean the expression didn’t change at all. In fact, a strange sort of pensiveness settled on the Chancellor’s face. His eyes seemed to drift sideways. Sam had the softest smirk on his face that Amy had ever seen. It was at once teasing and comforting. In moments like these, he reminded her so much of Connor… Wretched beauties, those memories. Happy little glimmers that brought a tightness to her chest that she had to chase away before it rooted in too deeply. “And when you return, we will no doubt have Amy well settled.” Mother Giselle assured, stepping forward. With all of Sam and Chancellor Roderick’s posturing, Amy had very nearly forgotten about her. “Good to hear.” Sam said with a nod. His eyes rose towards the daunting chasm that was the chantry’s ceiling. “Guess I should pack and rest up for tomorrow.” he said, his voice both measured and forlorn. Chancellor Roderick sniffed. “A Herald’s work is never done.” Sam blinked, looking over at him with confusion puckering his brow. “Did you just make a joke?” Amy chuckled, more at the ridiculousness of the scenario than anything Roderick had said. Sam looked somewhere between curious and almost frightened, and Roderick, though still stiff, looked almost smug! “Sick. Burn.” Amy grunted. And somehow the tension was gone. Amy understood what it meant, because it had been one of the biggest parts of her life. She had been a mediator between her brothers, between her parents, between her parents and siblings, even between classmates. She knew what it was to hear about both sides and sap the tension with a touch of perspective. “We still have much work to do.” Mother Giselle reminded in that gentle way she had. “Indeed.” Chancellor Roderick agreed, though Amy still wasn’t sure exactly how the Chancellor occupied his time here. And before she could think of how to politely ask him this, he had left. Sam shrugged, waved goodbye before backing away, and then took his weary eyes with him to pack. “No rest for the weary.” Amy half sang the words, and was instantly disappointed and relieved. It was the strangest sensation. She felt guilty for singing against Solas’s instructions, and at the same time, there was an almost flash of comfort in her muscles. ...curious. A million facts about placebo effects and psychosomatic coping mechanisms ran through her mind. All things she didn't want to stop and squint at… “Go and gather your things, child.” Mother Giselle instructed before starting off on her own tasks. Amy didn’t have much in the way of things, really. But she could take the time to find Solas and Magpie and Varric and let them know that she was being moved. She found Solas staring at his own packed bag, though it appeared the bag had been taken care of for quite a while. Solas was simply staring at the receptacle as though he could somehow scry through it. His attention snapped to her as she entered the room. "Amy." It was more of a greeting or acknowledgment of her presence really. He took a breath, and she waited. It was the perfect definition of their relationship, really

“Solas.” Amy prompted, at last garnering some much-needed eye contact. “Say it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward before he began. “I have been considering your condition, both what I know now and anything I can garner of your previous state…” Amy held her breath waiting for whatever travesty waited just around the river bend. “While I will continuously advise caution in all things, I do not think it would be terribly detrimental to your health if you were to sing again.” 

Amy felt her eyes grow wide, while tears stung at the edges of her vision. She let out a tiny half sob of breath before hiding her face in her hands.

Before Thedas, music had been a constant in her life. She woke up to it, she lived her life to it, she went to sleep to it. Driving to and from work, at the dojo, even alone in her home… music was constantly part of her environment.  To the point that she had no idea how crucial it was to her reality.

If you would’ve asked if Amy fancied herself much of a singer, she would’ve laughed off her response. The truth was, she sang constantly, she embraced music in every eternal spec of her essence… But Bridget McManus’s utilitarian world view had skewed her daughter's estimations. Singing was not what she did on a professional level, and she was not acknowledged by any peers, therefore it wasn’t a factor.

Not there. Not back home. But in Thedas...

“Amy.” Solas’s voice was tentative. A careful hand on her shoulder, his concern making her face him even with tears in her eyes.

The door creaked open, Varric barging his way in—and it was his place too, so why shouldn’t he?

“Whoa, there, Chuckles. What’d you say to her?” he worried, drawing close.

Amy huffed out a laugh as best she could, shaking her head.

“Only that she should not feel a need to constrain herself...if she desires to sing.”

Varric’s smile held a hint of, ‘what are we going to do with you?’. “Been holding it in there, eh, Charmer?”

Amy took a deep breath and let it out in a near whistle. “So luk-ee. Movin’ bak to chant-ry today. Woulda eh’noyed the piss outta ya.”

Varric chuckled. “Seems like a small price to pay.” he said with a smirk. “Come on. Chuckles and I can walk you back.”

“Will we?” Solas asked, with an arched eyebrow. He didn’t offer any resistance when Varric placed a gentle hand at the small of her back to lead her outside again.

He could be that way...compliant but still salty about.

… Maybe he wasn’t Canadian...maybe he was English.

“You complain, but you know…” Varric began, with his best shit-eating grin. “It’s a nice day for a song.

Solas rolled his eyes but was still grinning.

“How ‘bout it, Charmer? You got a good song in you?”

Amy knew a good prompt when she heard one.

“There's a line where the sky meets the sea and it calls me! But no one kno~ows, how far it go~oes.” she was only too happy to belt that to the open sky.“All the time wondering where I need to be is behind me. I'm on my ow~wn, to worlds unknow~wn.” Amy did a happy little twirl before half skipping forward. “Every turn I take, every trail I track, is a choice I make, now I can't turn back, from the great unknown where I go alone, where I long to be…” She took a deep breath, scanning the horizon and finding the lazy moon on the horizon. “See her light up the night in the sea, she calls me! And yes I kno~ow that I can go!” It felt so good to breathe deep, like a much-needed stretch. “There's a moon in the sky and the wind is behind me, soon I'll know how far I'll go~o!” For a moment, there was nothing but the echo of her voice as it rang out into the open sky.

“Well, well, well, sounds like someone’s got a bit of her own back.”

Amy knew her smile was radiant through the warmth of the blush on her cheeks and the responding smile Magpie gave her.

“I thought you were taking your clan mates on a tour.” Solas queried in a way that was both a statement and a question.

“She did. Turns out Haven is tiny.” Tunen said with a shrug. Her brother only smirked at this. “It was worth it to come, even if all we were to receive was that song.”

“Indeed.” Tunan droned in a husky timbre. “Your voice is a marvel.”

Amy felt her blush intensify at their genuine praise. She bent slightly at the waist in a modest bow. “Thank. You.”

Magpie smirked and the twins exchanged baffled looks. Amy was oblivious to this interaction, but Varric and Solas could tell Amy’s behavior confused them. The girl flinched back, a sour expression on her face but her brother shook his head, before cocking it to the side. They looked to Magpie, who gave them both a smug grin. The twins weren't used to shows of respect, especially not from humans. While Tunen thought it could be a joke, Tunan was certain that wasn't it...but was still perplexed to see such behavior at all.

Amy came upright at this point, reaching for Magpie. The slip of an elf darted forward, looping her arm with Amy’s as if she’d done it all her life. “Where are we off to now?”

“Chant-tree.”

“Amy is being moved there.” Solas informed, his voice staid.

“Really…?” Magpie sounded… hesitant.

“No worries.” Amy said. “Weh...wheel… we will… find a place.” she comforted.

“All four of us?” this was Tunan, the brother, who asked.

“Whoa...all three of you elves are just going to shadow her now?” Varric asked.

“That is our intention.” Tunan responded, seemingly so nonchalant. “We’ve little desire to be separated from Magpie after so long, and...after everything..” he heaved a sigh.

Amy’s free hand patted at her own throat as she felt a lump swell there. Magpie had never spoken of the party of hunters she had come here with, and no one asked her about it. Ever. As Amy felt Magpie’s forehead brush against her shoulder, she made a show of combing her bangs back before nodding.

“All four.” she announced as if it were obvious. Of course. That had been the plan all along.

“I wonder how the Chantry will feel about that.” Solas mused.

“No in-tent-shun to ask.” Amy murmured, making Magpie chuckled.

“That’s what I like about our Charmer.” she said, seeming significantly brighter than she had only seconds ago. It was easy to assume that she had been referring to Amy’s blatant disregard for the Chantry… but really it was more ambiguous. Really… Magpie just liked how much better she felt after speaking with Amy. She just had a way of making things feel… “Consistently better.”

End Notes: Finally! 

Oh, this is such a relief! I swear, I've been sitting on bits of this chapter for what feels like ages. And it has been! It's been ages. But first finals, and then moving, and struggling with financial aid, and physical therapy, and family visits, and D&D, and I just... I just got out of the habit of writing. And I'm really sorry about that guys. 

And every time, every time! I would look at this chapter and feel like it wasn't good enough to post. And the longer I went without posting, the more pressure I put on myself to do more with this chapter =..= My self-esteem might be self-defeating, but at least there's someone out there I can defeat. 

And I feel really horrible if I don't reply to your comments before I post a chapter. I honestly just don't feel like I deserve the love I get for this fic, and that really stops me from writing... and it just won't do. So, I'm doing things a little differently now. 

I have a steady schedule now. I'm going to keep to it. So... hopefully, it won't be too long before I pop my head back up again :|

[acearohippo]

Why Wash, David, and Agent Washington are all acceptable names

So I’ve been waiting for this moment. For a really long time. So… prepare for a long post under the cut. (Mobile users… sorry. :( I feel your pain.)

There has been a few discussions brought up rather recently about what to call Agent Washington or, rather, what’s acceptable and what isn’t. So, I’m going to throw in my two cents because, seriously, it’s been killing me that no one has thought- or, at least, talked about- this, what I think, crucial point:

Intimacy.

Now, it might not sound like much, but, lisssteeeen, it. Is. Everything.

In the military, people are called by their rank and last name. Nothing against their first name, it’s just the way it is. Now, if you’re a civilian or a Westerner, you might think that it is used to create a gap between military and civilian life. It can be. I will expand a little more on this through this post but, for now, I ask that you civilians and/or Westerners push this idea away for a moment and open yourself up to this: It’s not. See, while a rank and last name is used for professionalism, many of us within the military, see it as something totally normal and casual. We call people by their last names the same way we call people by their first names. It’s not so much that we are trying to “create a gap” between our civilian and military lives, it’s that we are in a different culture. A culture, where calling someone by their first name can be (and is) very off-putting and, in certain cases, pretty damn rude.

Does this sound familiar? It should if any of the fandom is any kind of familiar with name practises in Eastern Asia. Over there, it is downright disrespectful to call anyone by their first name without some form long term connection. They’re also very particular about honourifics and how they are attached to last names, each of them acting as a way to show respect, politeness aaaannnnddd... wait for it… intimacy!

Now, before I really get into my point, let me just clarify that I’m not trying to debunk any already made theories or tell anyone that they’re wrong; I just want to show the other possibilities for future fanfics/fanart! Matter of fact, I quite enjoy a lot of the hypothesis I’ve been seeing- especially any denoting a different “personality” within Wash, because I totally hc him to have some sort of minor split-personality hand-in-hand with PTSD- but I also think that the comfort levels of those he talks to would most definitely dictate how others would call him. Ok, got that out of the way, now for the meat of this post. Brace yourselves.

Opinion: AGENT WASHINGTON IS TOTALLY A-OK BEING CALLED DAVID. It’s his name, who he is, what he’ll go back to. However, what he ISN’T A-OK WITH is people he doesn’t like/doesn’t trust using it!

See, the Director was Wash’s beacon of light, his salvation, his ticket to a better life, protecting people and being the “good guy” that saves the day in the end. He had a tough childhood (I’m pretty sure you have to, at this point, to be part of the Reds and Blues) and he has “anger” issues.

((Quotes are there because, frankly, I believe there’s a better way to describe his “anger” that we’ve yet to find. See, anger issues, is what Carolina and, to a lesser extent, Church have. When they’re pissed, they go off and explode immediately, to whoever and whenever about whatever. Wash doesn’t do that. He just let’s it slide and holds that grudge for eternity until the perfect time to release it shows itself and then he very specifically channels that aggression to the person or persons that sparked his ire. Yeah, he gets frustrated (and his screeches can be heard throughout the lands) but that’s not anger. And there’s a post or story or something out there that’s like “it’s still anger issues” because of how violent he responds, but having “anger issues” isn’t how violent you are, it’s how quick you are and what it takes you to become aggressive. It takes long time and a lot for Wash to do that, but I digress. Getting off topic.))

The Director was supposed to be a man Wash could respect and the Counselor the same, though to a less idol-worship respect. However, when Freelancer was exposed and after what Wash saw and experienced through Epsilon, That trust was destroyed. Demolished. Decimated. Insert as many negative D words as needed, but any intimacy that allowed for Wash to feel comfortable hearing his real name from the Director was squashed. Thus, when Wash became Recovery One, and the Counselor called him by his name, Wash reacted hostilely to it. Wash didn’t abandon his past self; they lost the privilege to use his name.

“But! But! The Triplets!” I hear you say. “Wash told them not to use his name!” Yes, Wash did ask them to not call him by his first name... because he was with top notch agents. In this case, Wash wasn’t asking them to throw away his name, he was asking them to be aware of his new professional promotion. Wash was in the presence of his, stronger, and recent teammates. It’s bad enough that he’s the rookie, but they also take their positions seriously, so if he doesn’t embrace the “agent”, then he won’t be taken seriously. This is akin to trying to maintain a good impression at your job only to get tagged in a rather embarrassing photo by your friends on facebook and struggling to get them to quickly take it down before any of your coworkers see it an alert the boss. We’ve seen how strict and competitive the “single digits” are with each other. Any and all disadvantages of another will be fully taken advantage of in an effort to come out on top. So, Wash wasn’t saying “Don’t use my name anymore” he was saying “Don’t use my name around my new team please”. Because Wash is a professional now, and professionals go by Agent State names.

Alright, so now that I’ve covered the couple of instances Wash asks for his first name to not be used, I can talk about the other name issues, because this intimacy will make more sense if there are people to compare it too.

Agents State Name/ Rank Last Name: Whenever anyone is referred to as one of those, its almost always in a professional setting, such as a debriefing or a reminder of the mission. When it’s not professional, it’s used to signal a shift in tone.

Last names/State names: Like I said, in the military, last names are used just like first names, for all sorts of purposes: Casual, Professional, affectionately, angrily, exasperatedly, etc. Half of my friends call me by my last name, and I them, and while we know each other’s first names, it just feels better to call them by their last names because, believe it or not, they are still the same person, regardless of what they’re called. If you get used to calling someone/being called by a different name, then that just becomes a part of who you are. It’s like a nickname. Yeah it’s not your real name or your full name, but you still answer to it and consider to be as much of your name as your first name is. Same goes for codenames, if you use em long enough.

Agent Washington/Wash/David vs Recovery One: All of these are used depending on trust and comfortness. I think it’s safe to assume that pre PFL Wash probably got called David a lot and was fine by it, which makes sense as pre PFL Wash was a very trusting and gullible rookie. Post PFL Wash doesn’t trust anyone and, as such, there’d be less people he’d allow for first name basis. He doesn’t hate David, there’s just no one who he trusts enough to call him it. However, Recovery One was definitely, without a doubt, a codename for Wash used for the very purpose of dehumanising him. As Recovery One, Wash wasn’t David or Wash. Rarely was he Agent Washington. No, Recovery One was just as much property as the equipment and AI he was ordered to recover and contain. Recovery One was a puppet to be used by PFL, nothing more than a mindless drone controlled by those in higher positions. Easily replaceable, and certainly not unique in anyway. We know South turned out to be Recovery Two, and I have no doubt that there were probably several more Recovery Agents out there, all with various knowledge of any others and various purposes that would affect one another.

Reds and Blues: We rarely hear their first names used by others, except for fleshing out a character:

-“My name is Michael J. Caboose and I. HATE. BABIES!!”

-Tucker’s first name being used to establish he’s black

-Kaikaina proving she and Grif are Hawaiian

-Simmons exemplifying his Dutch Irish genes

-Donut and his personality with a full (and proud) name

Etc. There’s times when Wash calls Tucker by his first name and those times are very much to make Tucker feel discomfort as he and Wash are in no way close enough to refer to each other by first names, especially in high-tension situations.

Felix vs Locus: Ok, so Felix and Locus are examples of codenames taken to become a different person, no doubt. Locus taking his to be more true to his idealistic path of the soldier and Felix because he grew to enjoy his ruthlessness as “Felix”, so they threw away their old selves.

Connie/CT: This is an example of the change of intimacy I’ve been trying to shove into your faces. Wash and CT used to be pretty close, based off of their interactions with the Triplets. However, once CT found out what the director was doing, and once she realised Wash would be of no use to her, she cut off her friendship with them. That’s what that scene was establishing. At the moment in time, it seemed like she was becoming more obsessed with the rankings, and that’s what it was supposed to feel like at the time. However, once it was revealed that she was working as a double agent, that scene was actually her cutting the bond between her and Wash. She never cared about the ranking or keeping face, hence why she was fine with other’s calling her Connie. However, when it was getting close to make-or-break time, and she realised she could trust no one, she started severing ties. See, that scene is way more powerful than what the fandom has taken it to be because CT wasn’t just warning Wash about the inevitable fall of Freelancer: She was warning him that he was no longer on her side of the line. He had to doubly look out because when the shit would finally hit the fan, he would not be able to count on her to help him.

All the Churches: Just… Just all of them. Each name change is partly throwing away the old them, partly bringing in a new personality, partly earning a right to be called “Church”, partly showing different tones, partly reclaiming, just partly everything. This… This I would agree is more accurate for not liking to be called certain names, as they brought back painful memories. And, frankly, Church wanted to be called Church because, at his core, he knew he wasn’t human, but he didn’t want to be seen as a thing. I’m surprised no one else really touches on his sensitivity to being called anything inhuman. I don’t just mean the moments played for laughs, such as when he shot the laser out of his face or when he insisted he was a ghost. No, the AIs were fascinated with human things and human concepts. They all had varying shades of obsessiveness over it. However, Church is unique because he was the closest to human as any of them were, until the torture and splits. But Church, Alpha and Epsilon, absolutely loathed and, probably, feared being dehumanised.

The Meta Vs Maine: Are two very, very different people. The former is a shell of a man run by AIs, the latter the man before the AIs that casually blasts rap music while participating in high stakes mission.

There are several other cases where different names were used to represent different levels of closeness or character/mood shifts. Only few of these were ever used to erase a part of someone’s self. I could go on and on about how much the switches between the names mean so much and are all done to establish more plot devices and that most of the names are very special to those characters and not shameful or painful to them.

Thanks for getting through all of that! Seriously, y’all are troopers! If y’all want to discuss more, please talk to me! I will talk about this topic to the death!

((Also, please excuse any weird grammar... I’ve been typing this since 1 in the morning and it’s been two hours. I don’t remember half of what I wrote. I hope it made sense))