#you know for all this shit he did up until that point

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

What's more is, I'm not sure about anyone else, but my school started enforcing this in 6th grade. I mean enforce.

Beginning in the 6th grade, history class required us every Friday to bring in some news article of a current event, and we began our classes with each student presenting a summary of their event.

Our English class required us to write a periodical weekly on a current event.

Our science teacher required every student to bring in articles each week regarding scientific current events, whether about disease, discovery, developments, etc.

If there was a huge event happening, our teachers loaded the live stream on every classroom computer but kept it silent, just so we could watch as we learned.

And every teacher repeatedly told us, especially our history teacher, it was our responsibility as US citizens to keep up with the worldwide news. No exception. He forced it down our throats that we had to morally throw ourselves into the worldwide happenings daily and that we should all watch multiple news sources. Our English teacher did the same.

And for every single year following until graduation, it was enforced in our curriculum to keep up with worldwide news without any exception unless we wanted to fail and repeat the year since the majority of our grades relied on the homework which, again, was always based on current events.

That fucking term. "Current events". It sickens me. It's legitimately traumatic.

Because you know what happened to every single student in my school by junior year?

We were depressed as fuck without reprieve, unable to even focus in class with half the kids falling asleep at their desks, no one was happy, and literally all of us hated our lives. Many were admitted to mental hospitals for anxiety and depression issues, and it wasn't unusual to see someone gone for days or weeks at a time and for others to forget about them existing entirely because it's a very small school with less than 1,000 kids and you just let shit slide there. And that missing kid was always in a mental health crisis of some sort.

As an adult who's been out of school for 7 years now, I'm trying my damnedest to break the habit of burying myself in the news that my school enforced.

I don't know what's going on at all anymore. I don't pay attention because I need to focus on myself, my health physically and mentally, I need to take care of my sick mother and my father who is getting a hip replacement next month, I have to work and pay off my car repair, I have a life to fucking live.

And that life is not obligated to impart itself entirely unto the worldly events that drain my will to live and cause nothing but depression, despair, and immense sorrow.

People have called me selfish for this. They've called me careless and ignorant, said I'm looking at the world through rose colored lenses.

But you know what isn't selfish? Helping my homeless friend by cooking her meals and offering a place to stay. Translating Spanish to English at the store for customers and workers who don't understand each other even though I don't work there I'm just shopping. Standing by my best friend whose dog just passed tragically from cancer this week. Helping my neighbors clean the fallen branches in their yards because they're elderly and can't do that. Stopping when I see a car broken down to ask if they need a cable jump or tools for repair.

The point is there are countless other ways to be morally and ethically good that aren't dependent on burnout and enthralling yourself in world news. There are ways to help that don't require money and donations, too. I'm disabled on very limited income, and I still do my part without being able to donate.

Give your neighbor a hand. Help that stranger with their car. Give some food to the homeless. Put your old books in the little free library. Be genuinely kind and understanding to folks you come across whether daily or just once in a lifetime. Donate clothes you dislike or no longer wear to the local foundations and drives.

But for fucks sake, stop burning yourselves to the point you're melted wax in the glass jar with no wick to reignite you.

the social norm of “its your ethical responsibility to be constantly aware of, and angry about, every bad thing happening in the world at all times, even if you can’t possibly do anything about it” is possibly the best way I can imagine to create burnout and cynicism and depression in a population, so good job guys

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I've been thinking a lot today about how easily people condemn Solas for making the choices he did or for so regularly refusing the help and love his friends or a romanced Lavellan extended to him and how that's a very easy thing to do from behind a screen in a fictional game where you are able to (with very few exceptions) curate a world in which your allies are loyal and your decisions will go the way you'd like them to.

And yeah, it's a game and that's kind of the point, but if I were to look at it a little more deeply (and who am I kidding, I got back on this website exclusively to process the aftermath of Veilguard) I'd say that there's so much to be found in wondering if the protagonists in any of the other games would have fared better in similar conditions.

Apparently I can't stop making long posts, so buckle in.

What would Morrigan have become in a world where the Warden never stumbled upon her cottage with Flemeth, if she never got the chance to see more of the world and decide what she wanted out of it? With just her mother (who, coincidentally in this Solas-y discussion is also kind of Mythal) and no support, who is to say what she would have unleashed upon the Korcari Wilds one day when the confines of her cage became too much?

What about Leliana? She, too, suffered at the hands of a very controlling abuser who tried to convince her that one lifestyle was all that her future held. What do we think she would have become if not for a chance meeting in Lothering with someone who could help her face down the woman that molded her?

Fenris, a character MANY people are just fine with was incredibly ready to kill a mage on sight if need be, no questions asked. Where do we think his story goes if he doesn't have someone in his corner early on enough in the game? If he doesn't get caught by Danarius, he's almost certainly going to end up on a murder spree, and he doesn't even have Justice whispering in his head to do it.

Cullen. Just all of him. It's an absolute miracle he hasn't snapped by the time you encounter him in Inquistion, and even then you get the benefit of intervening at a critical point in his story several times over.

Almost every other character could face this analysis and I think we'd reach a result that suggests perhaps the only thing keeping them lovable is your playable character's investment in their well-being.

Enter Solas. We don't meet him when he's twenty to thirty something and on the precipice of falling down a dark path. He's been there for literal millennia already, and with the exception of one close friend he's been alone. And not even Felassan is enough because of the years Mythal had prior to that friendship to make Solas exactly who she needed him to be.

I've had shit friends before that aren't just good at isolating people, they're naturals. I barely made it through high school with my mental health in place (in fact, looking back, it almost certainly wasn't). When you think you've got a true friend and they need something of you, it's so easy to blindly follow them because you think your love is enough to mark someone's soul as trustworthy. Solas doesn't learn that lesson until it's too late, and even when he does he can't turn back: the spirit that was once Wisdom has been exposed to several of the worst ancient elves to ever exist and now he has to stand his ground rather than let it all fall, because that is what Pride would dictate. Admitting that the person you gave your love and labor and time to is a monster is hard. And he was alone.

Give me Morrigan after centuries with her mother. Show me Leliana after the years have become a blur and the only voice whispering in her ear is Marjolaine's. Show me the innocent mages that don't make it through if all Fenris has for years and years and years are the scars Danaris left him and the means to make more. Show me Cullen if he stays in a chain of command under a Knight Commander who knows exactly what he fears and holds it over his head for so long he forgets what it was like to be an excited kid begging the templars for training because he just wants to keep people safe.

We get companions in these games who are broken by the time they're twenty. Solas has spent thousands of years in servitude to a cause of a woman he believed to be his only friend. He doesn't know who he is without her influence, anymore, only exists physically in the first place because she asked it of him and then asked again and again and again. He doesn't have a witty band of merry fools to pull him out of that cycle. He has Felassan, but he has him during war after war after war in the hopes of freeing others from the very situation that torments him.

Trauma from war affects everyone touched by it, nevermind the fact that Solas is actively responsible for saving the lives of thousands and feels each life like a weight around his neck because maybe he can save them like he cannot save himself. We should always be worried about the people trying to do the most good. Who is looking out for them? Why are they so determined to help others? Could it be that it's something they wish others had done for them?

Solas certainly feels comradery with Felassan from working together to free slaves from the very people he helped put in power because Mythal told him it would be okay only to leave him with the pieces, but even the Solas that Felassan knows has been turned into an attack dog shying away from the touch of the very person it desires to be near above all others by the time their relationship forms.

The fact that Solas is able to try and show the Inquisitor who he is at all is a miracle as far as I'm concerned, a sign of a peaceful spirit of Wisdom who loves knowledge for the sake of it finally sensing that there might be a chance to embrace its nature again.

Yeah, if you give him what he has come to expect from people with power, if you let near-absolute power over the masses corrupt you, he's going to bristle and try to shut your inquisitor down.

But if you show him even the smallest bit of kindness? If you treat him like the starving wolf he talks about and feed him instead of fighting him? God, it shatters his entire existence.

It's called a cycle of abuse for a reason. Finding friendship, finding the love of your long-ass life can be the first step in realizing there's better out there. But the time it takes to learn that? When you're too weary to even reach out for help in the first place and afraid of every kind word or gesture because you've never known such tenderness (on a platonic OR romantic level, both matter so so much) before?

Part of the compelling tragedy of Solas is that it's almost Orpheus-like how he knows what he has been made into and still cannot stop himself from yearning for more, from turning around to see if just this once something has changed. You can't convince me that he hasn't spent years hoping that someone will hear the legend of the Dread Wolf and see it for what it is, a leash the Evanuris created for Mythal's whipping boy to ensure that even if he ever escapes them, the people he fought to save will hate him. And I cannot blame him for the shock and terror that consumes him when he realizes someone finally has.

You give me any of dragon age companions after the amount of time Solas spent under Mythal's thumb without your character's intervention and you tell me how that looks.

You tell me if they're able to change at the first sign of something that feels too good to be true.

And then, I want you to tell me they're any less worthy of trying to save, especially when you know how good their best can be.

Solas might be hard for some fans to love, but it's only because he serves as the perfect representation of the beast we are all capable of becoming when the love that sustains us, assuming we receive any at all, is laced with poison.

The journey out of that place, out of a literal prison of regret, is brutal, and I'm thrilled that even with the many things about Veilguard I'm still struggling with, we have the chance to let Solas try again with the help of those who love him not because he never fell down, but because they believe in the beauty of a future where he gets back up again.

[beanarie]

i never wanted water once part 3

tommy is also breakup baking, prompted by my dear @sanguinarysanguinity

tw: mention of parent death, mention of child abuse

part 1

part 2

~

Gutierrez eyes him on his way out of the locker room. "Feel like no one ever sees you anymore. You coming back to the pickup game or what?"

"Oh." Tommy gives his damp hair one last rub from the towel. "I wasn't planning on it, to be honest. Too awkward."

Gutierrez frowns. "Why?"

"You know," Tommy says, wishing he didn't have to, "Eddie Diaz. I broke up with his best friend."

"Diaz hasn't shown in weeks. Probably got injured. You know how that crew is."

And that. Well. He and Eddie were friends. They became tight very quickly in a way Tommy hasn't experienced with many people. He shouldn't have thrown a connection like that away without at least trying to salvage it.

He sends a text, a polite, generic one asking about his welfare. Worst thing that can happen is Eddie tells him to fuck off and he's back where he started. He fully expects to be left on read.

He does not expect Eddie to tell him he's moving back to Texas because he's given up on his son deciding to come home. Eddie invites him to a pre-going away dinner at a bar and grill before he goes down South for a few days to scout out homes. And, no, absolutely not. But Tommy proposes getting a drink, just the two of them. Eddie very validly explains that he can't spare the time, since he's already started packing up his life and he's working overtime to save up for a down payment. Tommy gets it. He does.

The day after the dinner, Eddie calls him. "Hey, man. I know we're like two ships passing in the night, but I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye. I still got some more shifts before I move for good, but the time will go by quick. We'll just stay on the line, okay? Keep me company while I go through my kitchen cabinets."

"It's good to hear from you," Tommy says honestly.

"So yeah." Eddie hums. "Why'd you do it?"

"Text you?" Tommy says. "I heard that-"

"Kinard," Eddie says, unamused.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You just didn't seem the type to flee."

None of you know me as well as you thought you did, Tommy doesn't say. That's not fair to any of them. "I wasn't, in the past. Well, I tried not being that. A couple times. It didn't work out."

"Oh," Eddie says. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"You've got shit."

"Haven't we all?"

"Hey, I am not denying that." Eddie chuckles. "Do you plan on dealing with it, or letting it blow up every good thing you find until you die?"

"Jesus, Eddie."

"What's the point in mincing words? You did something dumb and destructive. What kinda friend would I be if I let that go without saying anything?"

"So what's the weather even like in El Paso? Does it ever get below 100?"

After a groan, Eddie lets Tommy talk about his shit, about Texas, parenthood, and chess clubs, for the rest of the call. Tommy can't say that he'll miss him. He missed him already and now he gets to continue doing so. All of this sucks.

Tommy tries his hand at gnocchi made with ricotta, lemon, and pepper that subsequently almost causes a fistfight during B shift.

Demetra favors him with a warm smile, taking in the large box in his hands. "Tom, right? Welcome! What's all this?"

"Tommy," he says easily, impressed she remembered his name at all. He hasn't been to this slightly dusty community center in five or six years. "Uh, this is garlic knots and mini calzones."

"Well, hey. You're even more welcome than before. Come take a seat."

December is a stupid time to rejoin group, many of the participants close to the edge from a cocktail of seasonal depression, missing dead loved ones, and generalized loneliness. Tommy knew it would be like this going in. He counted on it. Everyone will have so much to say that there likely won't be any time for him to open his mouth. He's not ready to spill. It will help to just soak in the atmosphere of unashamed honesty for a while.

At his third meeting, Cal, a slender guy in his mid twenties with a curly mohawk, keeps bringing up his mother. "She never wanted me to enlist," he says, "and now that I'm back home and struggling, she can't stop being all 'I told you so' morning, noon, and night. She never says it, but she is thinking it."

"Is she?" Tommy finds himself asking. "Or are you putting something on her that isn't there?"

"Maybe so." Cal pops one of Tommy's fried ravioli in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I don't know, I should probably give her a chance, think first about what she's actually saying before I react. But it's hard in the moment, you know?"

"Tommy?" Demetra says a minute later, making him feel like a kid being called on by the teacher. "How's your relationship with your mom?"

"Nonexistent. She died when I was fifteen." He crosses his ankles. "Fell asleep in the car on our way back from an away game and we couldn't wake her up. Heart attack."

Demetra frowns sympathetically. "That must've been hard for a kid to witness."

"I've seen so much worse since then. People shot in the head by machine guns, people covered in burns over most of their bodies..."

Demetra shakes her head slightly. "They weren't your mom."

He ducks his head, pressing his lips together. "True. It's just- That's not- It's not trauma. I don't fear falling asleep and not waking up."

"What do you fear?" Cal asks.

Being left, being hurt, being validated in his belief that no one will ever see him for all he is and choose to stick around. "Standard stuff, really. Clowns, taxes, drivers on the freeway."

He gets a pity laugh, a groan or two, and one outright glare. "Okay, okay." He exhales loudly. "Ending up alone by someone else's choice rather than mine."

"So you're cool with being on your own, as long as you're the one keeping everyone away," Cal says.

God, that sounds idiotic. "Yes?"

"You prefer it like this?" asks a woman about his own age wearing a green bomber jacket.

He shrugs. "It's not ideal, but as far as worst case scenarios go, it's okay. It's fine."

"It's spineless," says a gray-haired man with a Desert Storm hat.

Tommy doesn't flinch. "Yeah, that's kind of an inherent character trait. I keep thinking I got it licked, then it shows up wearing another face. Scared of my dad, so I joined the army and became someone he couldn't hurt anymore. Scared of people knowing I was gay, so I waited to come out until I was surrounded by brand new people. Scared of my boyfriend leaving, so." He pushes at the skin above his knees, kneading it. "So I left him first."

"You fall back," says Bomber Jacket. Her name is Annie or Angie. She has conflicted feelings about dating a man with kids. "It's easy to stop being scared when the thing that scared you is far away."

He hears Eddie. You just didn't seem the type to flee.

Demetra holds up a hand. Tommy's face must be doing something concerning. "No one here faults you for what you did to survive. Is it still serving you, is the question, or is that just what you're used to?"

He doesn't bake when he gets home. He drinks half the beers in his fridge and does a shockingly efficient job of cleaning his house, while drafting and deleting twenty-seven different texts. He then wakes up the next day, and goes to the pickup game.

Gutierrez scores four rebounds on him and doesn't shut up about it for the rest of their next shift. Tommy grumbles, and talks shit, and promises he won't have much to brag about next time.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 7.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.2k

—chapter content/warnings: not much here!!, cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, subtle flirting (in san's and oc's terms lmfao)

—a/n: hi! just a friendly lil reminder that these half chapters are random scenes/bits that couldn't really fit into a chapter or stand-alone as one. they're mostly in the past and will not always follow the exact timeline of the previous or upcoming chapter!

San booked off most of his day to help Christopher with this symposium. Well, actually, most of the group has [minus a select few others] in order to make room for the quick tech rehearsal and run through before its official start time in the next half hour or so. The staff is now bringing in the fruit, cheese and other pastries, along with coffee, tea and juice— setting them outside of the conference room on a long table. The symposium is supposed to be 5 hours, being that everyone keeps to their 20-min presentation + 10-min Q&A times. San is off to the side speaking with Jongho and Chris, while Mingi and Zara are fiddling with the AV system to test their own presentations for the final time. Even though this is the one time most of their schedules worked, Yeosang had to skip out due to heading overseas for a conference. As San sips on his coffee, Yunho and Iseul walk in alongside of Namjoon. Per usual, he keeps greetings to a bare minimum:

AKA, a very subtle smile and nod to both. One that Yunho reciprocates, one that Iseul doesn't like to acknowledge.

But, whatever.

"Did you guys tell your labs about this?" Chris nervously wipes his hands on his dress pants, nervous about how his first symposium is gonna turn out.

"Dude." Jongho laughs and pokes fun at him. "Relax."

"I bragged about it way too much, I don't even know if people wanna come anymore." San teases, making Chris shake him by the shoulders. "Relax! They'll come!"

"What if no one shows up? We'll be giving presentations to each other—" Chris laughs, but a few people start trickling into the conference room; providing him with a sense of relief. "Oh, thank god." The three start giving small nods to the students and other faculty dipping in, greeting them just as they set their things down and grab some food.

"Can't believe you actually thought people wouldn't come. Think you might need extra chairs." San points out as more people flood in.

"Shit, I did it." Chris beams from ear to ear, shifting his attention to two more familiar faces. "Oh! Hey Y/N, Jiung!" He says as the two of you walk towards their group, giving them very curt bows.

"Hi." You smile at all, especially San. He bites onto his straw, trying his hardest to hold back his smile.

"Thanks for coming."

"Of course! Got a good lineup, excited to hear all the presentations!" Jiung tugs on his backpack straps.

"In that case, send me a full report on it tomorrow." Jongho jokes, making Jiung playfully roll his eyes.

"Do you see how he treats me?" Chris and Jongho laugh.

"Nah, he's been talking a lot about the work you've been doing and how you're probably the best person to help get the rig together for our optical electrophysiology project."

"Aw, really?" Jiung looks at Jongho. "You mean it?" Jiung has stars in his eyes and Jongho can't help but deny the allegations. He has said it time and time again; Jiung is definitely doing great work and Jongho doesn't want him to go anywhere. If he could keep him for good, he would. He hopes he can.

He'd just never say it out loud cause he's like that.

"Hey now." He shakes his head. "I never said anything, I don't know what he's talking about." 

"We have a few minutes actually, let's talk about that real quick and follow up in another meeting later on." Chris looks at you. "Sorry to have to pull him away from you, Y/N. Professor Choi #2 can keep you company?"

"All good." 

"Be back." Jiung looks at you. "I'll save us those chairs." He points towards two end spots near the middle section. You awkwardly watch as Chris, Jongho and Jiung approach another professor to talk about said project, leaving you with San. 

"Hi." He says shyly. You've never seen him this way, and he's too fucking cute, too fucking charming. It makes you replay the dinner events in your head, only pushing your curiosity of what he'd be like if you two were completely alone. 

"Hi. Is that your nervous face poking out? Are you nervous?" You tease a bit.

"Me?" He playfully scoffs. "No. Dinner was more nerve-racking than this."

"What, why?" You giggle.

"Because it's you. I have to be extra careful with you, remember?"

"Right." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes glaze over his figure; he's dressed nicely in a white button up, tie and grey vest. They're all dressed nicely for the occasion, but it's definitely an extra weakness for you seeing San like this. 

"You're cute." He mutters as he bites his straw again and takes a sip of his iced coffee, eyes looking around the room to make his flirting not so obvious. And it isn't, except Yunho has been watching from the side while he waits for Iseul to finish up working through some presentation issues with IT. He didn't mean to, but his eyes gradually glazed over to the two of you smiling and laughing.

He can't help it, but the interaction feels different. The only time he's ever seen San that shy and flustered is when he was courting Iseul. It almost feels like he's watching something unfold all over again. 

"All good!" Iseul says, knitting her brows together when Yunho seems to be preoccupied. "You okay?" She asks, Yunho finally returning his attention to her.

"Yeah, sorry. Was just people-watching." Iseul looks over, eyes also falling on San but she doesn't necessarily get a chance to think much about it before Yunho is chiming in again. "Let's go grab some food before it starts." He laces his hand with hers and leads her to the end, front row seats.

Meanwhile, you've been too busy keeping your attention on San to care about everyone else. You're so tempted to nudge him, be a little affectionate with him. And it's taking everything in you to remind yourself who you are and where you are at.

"Stop it."

"Glad you actually made it, though."

"I told you I'd come."

"And I'm glad it wasn't just something you said to brush me off in the hallway." You laugh.

"No, never." Jiung wraps up his talk with the other professors, his eyes meeting yours with a small nod towards the seats he sat his bag down at. "Well, guess they're done. I'll see you later? Goodluck on your talk, Professor Choi." He smiles toothlessly at you.

"Thank you, Y/N." He watches as you walk off and meet Jiung, plopping down onto the seat as he debriefs you on his impromptu meeting. 

"Hm." Jongho hums and clears his throat, slowly walking over to his bestfriend while sipping his coffee.

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Jongho squints his eyes at him, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "Productive conversations going around, I see."

"Mhm." San chuckles, knowing exactly what Jongho's hinting at.

"Hey!" Zara comes over with a bright smile on her face. "We saved you some seats." She points at the front row on the left side, waving them over. "Come." 

"Sweet, thanks." Jongho leads the way while Zara tucks her hair behind her ear and walks alongside of San.

"Ready?" San shrugs as he looks at her.

"As can be."

"I'm sure it'll be great like always." He smiles.

"Thanks." He lets her slip into the seat next to Jongho before sliding into the end seat, eyes quickly glancing over at you before he gets situated and switches modes for the symposium.

Though, you are incredibly distracting, and he can only hope he can get you alone sometime soon just to show you exactly how he feels.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny

[madonnamadeofasphalt]

EA & Bioware honestly did an incredible job at killing any enthusiasm I had for a new Dragon Age. Fucking hell, man, I've played the first two games so much I could probably go through them with closed eyes and still pick all the right dialogue options to get My Exact Personally Canonized Plot. And the only reason I didn't do the same thing with DA:I is because it was made after EA completely gave up on optimizing their shit so the fucking thing takes up like a billion terabytes of disc space and takes 10 hours to download and install. I honestly think it's the best-written cRPG franchise to ever have a budget that doesn't involve a list of Kickstarter backers or getting an eccentric Estonian billionaire fixated on the project. And the gameplay is also there, I don't really care about that part.

Then they proceeded to fire all the talent that made me love those first three games, and scratch and restart the production twice, and be suspiciously cagey with any details or gameplay footage for a fucking decade, so my hype consistently went down and down. And yet I still managed to hold out some hope that somehow, by some miracle, it wouldn't fucking suck.

I kept that hope until the trailer dropped. You know the one. The one where we see a bearded Varric. This, I think, was the exact moment when I lost any desire to play fucking Veilguard.

Like, first of all, Varric being there at all is already an issue. Leave the man alone. His presence was already kinda forced in DA:I. And after DA:I and Tresspasser, his story couldn't be more finished if he got killed, eaten, shitted out, condemned to hell, redeemed by divine sacrifice, bathed for eternity in the everlasting light. There is no point to Varric anymore. Whatever arc they've given him in Veilguard, and I don't even give a shit enough to read the spoilers before writing this post, it has no business existing. Fuck you. The only reason he's there is because he's a recognizable IP, and when you're a certain kind of soulless corporate moron, you think there's nothing more important than putting a recognizable IP in whatever new bullshit you're trying to peddle. Maybe if you didn't fire every decent writer in your trash fucking company, you'd have someone to tell you about the importance of Ending The Fucking Story When The Story Fucking Ends.

But that's not even the core of the problem. Beard? they gave Varric a Beard? Varric I fucking hate everything that's even tangentially connected to dwarven culture with a passion which is why I've made a point to shave my beard all my life to spite anyone who gives a fuck about it Tethras? beard? you gave him a beard? He changed so much offscreen in the goddamn timeskip between these two games that he got a motherfucking berd? fucshhfdbeard? feadsgfsvarricafgfdh BEARD? yyousftoiuslyhhabevarricasgsfucningbeardandthivkimgosabedineditit?beard????

PS. (edit after finding out spoilers) I've gone to TV Tropes to read up on Varric's role in DATV after writing this (just in case I'm wrong and dumb, and there's actually a deeply compelling narrative reason for his presence), and, well, this shit is cheaper than I thought. And more importantly, just as I thought, there appears to be no justification for the beard beyond "adding a beard is a cliche way to show that a bunch of time has passed, and we didn't care enough to think this shit through". I'm fucking tired, man.

PPS. (edit after reading the rest of big spoilers) This is so much worse than I could even begin to suspect. This is worse than the final season of Game of Thrones. This is the final season of Game of Thrones if they straight-up fired GRRM, burned his notes and hired a showrunner who's only read a one-page summary of the first six seasons. This is fucking depressing, man. I'm genuinely fucking sad. So many subplots that were started over the course of these three games, that were clearly going somewhere, scrapped in favour of a simplistic good vs. evil story that would get rejected by fucking CD-Projekt in 2007 for being too basic. All because the artists who poured their hearts and souls into this bullshit franchise got thrown out like trash by its "owners". Morrigan's kid, the Well of Sorrows, all the implied complexities of Tevinter politics, the Crows, the Old Gods, Andraste. All went to shit. Death to capitalism.

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

jayvik headcanons because my heart is happy but also hurts.

these take place either in that special part of s1 act 1 where nothing went wrong with them yet OR in a special universe where nothing will ever go wrong ever <3

Viktor either talks endlessly or has periods of silence Jayce listens to every word and responds but also knows when it's just silent 'be together time".

Jayce talks a lot as well, but he'll start a subject, pause for a few hours, then continue on later as if he didn't take a break. Viktor fully understands this.

They are literally each other's worst hype man. the words "no, don't do that" have rarely been uttered in their lab. if they are it's about not eating/sleeping or something unrelated to science. these men are "yes, and" till the very end.

Heimerdinger laughs anytime someone is like "At least Talis has someone to calm him down now!" Because like. His assistant (who he should apologize to for not encouraging him more) is literally insane.

Jayce can charm the pants off of anyone in order to gain something, but only at a gala or function. Only works on the rich. He's gotten him and Viktor bigger labs, lots of funding, new things.

Viktor, however, either intentionally or unintentionally, gets free shit all the time from local owners/regular workers because his natural snark and calm demeanor (plus the looks and accent) have people eating out of the palm of his hand.

He's unaware his usual drink/breakfast order costs less then it should and is more portioned. A local bookstore owner gives him the best copies.

Viktor mentions Singed one time and Jayce was like. no wonder you failed lab safety three times. is like okay you're never seeing that man ever again.

Jayce is very artistically inclined. Musically or visually. He can sing (doesn't like to in front of many people) and sings often to only his mom, Viktor, and maybe Caitlyn. Has the best music taste. A bookshelf full of records.

Viktor is fantastic with kids to the point he has a mom fan club. (Some dads too). This is because he took over for a science lab for a week to help out an old colleague and by the end the back row was filled with parents just watching and listening because their kids were actually interested in school for the first time ever

Jayce....is awkward with kids. He likes them, but my man does not know how to deal. He likes babies because they're small and cute, will hold a baby all day. but toddlers and kids? what do you discuss with them? taxes?

both avoid older kids and teens like the plague though. it's understandable. have you meet a thirteen year old? scary.

Viktor didn't even notice until Caitlyn pointed it out (very coyly) that pretty much all the clothes and accessories he has are in Talis house colors. Jayce did it intentionally 100%.

Viktor wanders whenever theyre out traveling. Jayce blinks and suddenly Viktor is halfway up the road or a new item has caught his eye.

[torturedlexdepartment]

The Last Time (JJ's Version)

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: I apologize in advance 💀

Warnings: ANGST, fighting, toxic JJ, break up

Summary: after a turbulent relationship with JJ, you finally hit your breaking point

Six months is nothing. Six months flies by. You’re on the back end in the blink of an eye. But when you’re young, it’s everything. When he’s your first, he’s everything.

You were so sickenly in love with him that you couldn’t see anything else. Red flags morphed into pink while you wore rose colored glasses. Up until this point you were living in a bubble of that honeymoon phase. But things couldn’t stay perfect no matter how much you saw the stars in his ocean blue eyes.

The first time

JJ found himself at your front door after a fight that took place at a party earlier in the evening. Your disagreements usually ended in bickering or slightly raised voices. But nothing had ever gone this far. Nothing had ever hurt you this bad. He chased after you almost immediately, instantly regretting his behavior. When he knocked on your door, you couldn’t help but run to greet him with tears in your eyes.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Please come here.” He grabbed you gently, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. You melted into him and when he grabbed you by the face to wipe away your tears, you suddenly forgot why you were so upset in the first place. All that mattered was that he was here now, taking the blame and showcasing the sweetest side of himself.

The next time

A couple of months have gone by and things have slowly begun to grow more complicated. The patience you once had for one another was starting to dissipate.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous.” JJ paced around the kitchen in the chateau while you stood by the sink, your stomach in knots at the start of another argument.

“How? You keep treating me like shit when everyone else is around and ignoring me.” You fought to hold back tears as you grew more frustrated.

“No Y/N, you’ve just been super clingy lately and refuse to give me room to breathe!” He spit out and the floodgates opened.

“So I’m clingy for wanting to spend time with you now? You’re fucking unbelievable!” You screamed, not caring who would hear.

“I’m not dealing with your childish shit right now Y/N. Grow up.” He stormed out of the shack, leaving you to weep alone. You sunk down to the floor, burying your head in your hands wondering if there was any truth to his words. When you finally calmed yourself down, you went into JJ’s room, packed all your things, and headed home.

A few hours had passed and now he was blowing your phone up. The calls and texts went unanswered as you continued to spiral. Were you really being stupid and pathetic? Or was he just turning into someone you never thought he’d be?

You just needed more time before you could deal with him. But JJ was stubborn and never knew when to just let things be. He always had to get his way. Yet you were the “childish” one. He showed up to your house at 10pm pounding on your front door. You stood close by, praying he would just leave but he continued.

“Y/N!” He yelled from the other side of the door.

“What do you want JJ?” You heard him sigh, relieved you had finally answered him.

“I want you to open the door baby, please. Let me talk to you.” He pleaded.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now J.” Up until this point, that was true but the begging in his voice was breaking you down.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me Y/N. I’ll stay out here all night, you know I will.” You sighed heavily because you did know that. He wasn’t gonna leave until you at least heard him out. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, you felt yourself instantly soften. It was like magic, the effect he had on you. And it was the worst thing in the world at times like these. Times that you needed to be strong. You could never stay mad at him.

“J-”

“I am so sorry, okay. When I came back and saw that you were gone and you took your stuff, I freaked. I know I’ve been an asshole lately and I promise you baby, I will do better.”

And that’s all it took. That’s all he had to say. All he had to do. And you forgave him…again.

Countless times in between

Your one year anniversary was ruined by JJ getting nearly black out drunk and being obnoxious. You were driving home when you started arguing and at some point, he demanded that you stop so he could get out and walk the rest of the way. And no matter how much you pleaded, he wouldn’t get back in. He walked all the way to the chateau and the next morning, he was mad at you for abandoning him.

A huge blowup of a fight erupted when you caught him flirting with another girl at a party. You have been on the rocks lately, struggling to have even one good moment. But this was taking things too far. You swore you were gonna end it after that. But then he showed up crying at your door.

He got mad at you for going to the beach with John B without him. It’s been over a year and a half and at this point, you didn’t even bother apologizing anymore. You both just continued on like it never happened, like it was a normal occurrence. All he did was make you sad or angry. You struggled to remember why you had put up with this and for so long. It had gotten to the point where you both claimed to want to end things, but they were always empty threats. You’d come right back, the same way he would. Every single time…

You couldn’t count on one hand how many more times have happened since then. Big, small, stupid, pointless. It was everyday by the time you passed your two year anniversary.

The last time

You were arguing about something stupid, you couldn’t even remember what started it. And it blew up into the worst fight you have ever had. You were so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. Tired of not remembering what happy felt like.

“I swear to god JJ, I’m so done with this shit.”

“Then fucking leave!.” The words cut deep like a knife straight through your heart. Those words and the cold expression on his face, finally made something inside yourself snap.

“If I leave right now, I’m not coming back.” You searched his face for any signs of emotion besides anger, but you couldn’t find any.

“But you say that every single time, don’t you?” He mocked as you desperately tried to hold back your tears.

“I promise you…this is the last time.” You had never meant something you said to him more, other than the words “I love you”. He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even lift his head to look at you. You knew he was never going to beg you to stay, no matter how much you wanted him to. You wouldn’t bother with your things left behind. All you had to do was walk past him, right out the door.

You both stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity. He hadn’t uttered a word and you didn’t expect him to move an inch as you headed for the door. But he surprised you when he blocked your path. You scanned his eyes as he looked down at you, searching for any glimpse of the man that you fell in love with. You knew in your heart that he was still in there but he was buried so deep that you couldn’t help him come back to the surface. You could tell that he struggled with what to say and you knew that if you didn’t leave now, you’d both be stuck in this cycle of heartbreak. Before you could give it another thought you pushed past him and ran out the door, refusing to look back.

A few days later you were in a new hell after ending things with JJ. It took everything in you not to go back. Not to pick up the phone. You’d love to just hear his voice. But you knew you deserved better. You both did, so you resisted. Dealt with the worst pain imaginable to prevent further trauma. You had to love yourself more than you had ever loved him.

It was just past midnight when you heard him banging on your door. He had finally broke down and realized that you weren’t gonna come crawling back. That you meant what you said. A few minutes passed without you answering and he started yelling through the door.

“Please Y/N, I know you’re there.” You sank down on your side of the door with tears in your eyes. You could hear it in his voice that he was crying too and you fought with every part of yourself to open that door. After a moment, he stopped knocking and you heard him slide down his side of the door. You both sat there in silence, as close as you could allow yourself to get.

You let yourself reminisce about the good times. How he swept you off your feet on your first date. How he kissed you in the rain after he told you he loved you for the first time. How he swore he couldn’t wait to give you his last name.

“I told you.” You whispered loud enough for it to travel through the wood.

“I know baby. I know. And I won’t hurt you anymore.” You heard him stand up as you fought to keep it together. “I love you.” He said softly and made his way down your porch. And your heart shattered…for the last time.

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Ten

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: very brief mention of blood, profanity, smoking

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Ten:

You tugged your black top, which had ridden up your midriff, back down towards your belt as you stormed into the Last Drop, shoving patrons as you passed through the crowd. Sevika was at a table, ashtray half-full and glass half empty.

Scowling, you grabbed her arm, the one concealed by her cloak. Your hand made contact with metal through the fabric.

She stared at you. “[name],” she said flatly. You snatched your hand away, balling it into a fist. 

“Tell me-“ you stabbed a finger at her chest, “there’s been men at my doorstep at least three times this week.”

She scoffed. “Probably because you run a brothel.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you hissed. She stared at you, a frown carving a notch into her forehead, before nodding at her tablemates. Slamming her palms onto the surface a little too hard she slowly heaved herself up.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” she said.

You watched as she went to a corner, nodding at a door. You stared at her incredulously.

“Go in there with you?” You yelled over the din. “You must be insane.”

She groaned, and within moments you were both standing outside.

“You look real different, dressed like a normal person.” She nodded at your toned-down appearance. You scowled, flicking a hair out of your face. “Almost didn’t recognise you.”

“Whatever.” You took out a cigarette, rolling it between your fingers between placing it in between your lips. You’d dropped any efforts to keep up your beguiling, siren-like facade around Sevika- there was no point. You flicked open your lighter, palm shielding the flame.

“So what’s all this about men outside the brothel?”

“They’ve been heckling my girls. And guys,” you added. “I assumed they had something to do with your- boss, considering the fact I have something he wants.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, now that someone was actually listening.

Sevika must have taken notice of this, because her lips twitched. But she didn’t mention it. “You know, you look a lot like when we were younger. Before everything went to shit.”

“Did he send them?” Your voice was stone cold and hard. Sevika scowled at this.

“Of course he fucking didn’t. You think he’d stoop that low? I thought you knew him.”

You took a deep drag on your cigarette, not meeting her eyes as you exhaled. Your leg threatened to bounce with well-concealed anxiety. “Well, I don’t now. I want these bastards dealt with.”

Sevika crossed her arms. “Since when do I have to deal with your problems? Last I checked, it’s not you I’m working for.”

You scowled. “Well, something’s telling me that this is gonna be your problem soon enough,” you snapped. “Considering the fact that they’re looking for your boss.”

She paused. “Wait, what?”

“They keep bugging us about him. No idea why us,” you sneered, “because I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than be associated with you or his people, but sadly that’s the case. So hurry up and fix this before I send them your way for good.” You pushed the cigarette into her chest. “Enjoy, errand-girl.”

And with that you turned around and stalked off, pulling your coat around you as your brisk steps carried you away from the Last Drop. Breath misting in the air, you turned to look at Sevika. But all you saw was the door swinging shut as she disappeared back into the bar. 

-

You hurried back into the brothel, a gust of warm air enveloping you in a snug, cozy embrace. Immediately the feeling was quenched as you turned and saw a girl with big glassy eyes and mousy brown hair looking up at you, arms outstretched.

You gingerly shrugged off your coat and dumped it in her hands. She followed you to your office, hovering anxiously around the beaded curtains.

“What is it?” You sounded miffed.

“Your coat, Madam. I was instructed to leave it in your office.”

“Then why’d you make me take it off?” 

But nonetheless, you beckoned for her to come in. She placed it on a hook in the corner, and you curled your finger, calling her forwards. A cigarette dangling from your bottom lip, you placed something in her soft palm.

She unfurled her fingers. “Do you know what that is?” She shook her head.

You took it back from her, flicked it open, and pushed down. Flame erupted from the lighter, illuminating a freckle on her face. Her eyes widened and she shuffled back.

“Don’t be afraid,” you said, snapping it shut. You gently but firmly took hold of her wrist, tugging it forward and pushing it back into her hand. You leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, and gestured to your cigarette.

She leaned over the armrest and, with a trembling thumb, pushed down as you’d shown her. The flame jumped a little too close to your face and you moved your head back, eyes widening, as she hurriedly snapped it shut.

She froze, waiting for a reprimand. But you didn’t say anything, just sucked on the cigarette and smiled at her, eyes looking at her without turning your face. You tipped your head back and let the smoke curl in the air.

“Hand-eye coordination needs some work,” you commented. She nodded.

“Yes, Madam.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alice-“

Your eyes widened, chest tightening.

“-son.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Allison,” she repeated timidly. You were shaking, she noticed, and took a quick step back.

Chewing on your lip, your eyes crawled across her face desperately. She looked…

Scared.

You could taste blood on your tongue. You released your bloodied lip from between your teeth, then soothed it with your tongue.

This girl is not Alice, you reminded yourself. 

“You look tired,” you remarked, relaxing. “Have you been getting a good night’s sleep?”

“No,” she admitted silently. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “The mattresses are hard,” she said regretfully. “Not that I’m complaining, Madam,” she added hastily.

You chuckled. “No, please. Feel free to complain.”

She couldn’t tell if you were being sarcastic or not, as you patted the spot on the couch next to you. She clambered onto the cushions obediently.

You took another thoughtful drag, then blew out the smoke, cigarette poised in between your fingers as you leaned into Allison.

“Will I tell you something important?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“I used to have a daughter just like you.” You looked the girl up and down. “Same age, same eyes, same hair. Almost the same name.”

Allison knotted her little fingers together in her lap, looking up at you in wonder as you smoked some more.

“But she died.” Your tone was flat. 

Allison recoiled. “Killed by enforcers,” you continued. You looked at the little girl, silently staring at her.

Then you sighed.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight, if you want. A welcome change from the mattresses.” You leaned forward and stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray that lay on the table, next to the long-wilted rose, and rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I’d have them changed if they weren’t the best we could afford in Zaun. Piltie bastards are probably sleeping well into the afternoon.”

She didn’t say anything.

“My bedroom is that door,” you told her, pointing to a door next to a bookshelf. “The office locks from the inside.”

“This is too generous, Madam,” Allison whispered.

You scoffed. “Not at all. You’ll have a job, you know.”

Allison looked up expectantly, and you stumbled around your words to find an excuse. “Uhh… clean up the office every now and then. And lock it once I go to bed.”

Allison smiled. “Alright.”

“And if I have anything else that needs tending to then expect the responsibility to fall to you, in the case that you’re able for such tasks.”

Allison nodded, bowing her head. “Yes, Madam.”

You flicked your hand at her. “Right, now… go away.”

Allison scuttled away into the front entrance of the brothel, cutting across and eventually disappearing into another narrow hallway. You followed after her, looking around. Beads, lanterns, curtains. Sickly sweet incense, mist swirling across the floor. A new client had just passed in through the doorway. She was looking behind herself nervously as she hurried in.

You silently watched her from the spot in the corner you’d chosen to lean on, obscured by the sheer fabric draped across the ceiling. She disappeared hand in hand with one of your men, and a tall, broad figure stepped into view.

Sevika.

You brushed the sheer drapes as you emerged, mist coiling around your feet as you walked.

“I thought we already spoke today,” you said steadily, expression even as you studied her face.

“What if I came here for your services?” She sounded amused.

“You don’t look like it. Hurry up, tell me what it is.”

Sevika squared her shoulders, gaze roving around the all-took familiar room. It eventually settled back on your face.

“He wants a meeting with you.”

“What?”

“You deaf?” She tilted her head. “He wants to meet with you in his office. Tomorrow night.”

“No.” Your response was fast.

You couldn’t face him. You’d rather never speak to him face to face again- your last in-person interaction, despite years ago, had been quite fond and you knew that whatever version of him you’d meet if you went would simply take on the image of the man you used to know.

Sevika frowned at you. “Are you okay?”

You were breathing hard. “No, I’m not. Get out.”

She stepped towards you. “[name].”

“What’s it about?” You hissed. “I’ll talk to you. Come on.” You stepped towards your office.

For a moment, you thought Sevika would protest, but she simply followed you silently after a quick moment of hesitation. You shut the door properly.

“Sit down.”

“I think I’ll stand.” There was a glint in her eye you didn’t miss.

“It wasn’t a request.”

Sighing and rolling her shoulders back, she assumed her usual position on the couch.

You didn’t sit down, choosing to remain standing. You crossed your arms, leg shaking. “What’s the issue?”

“It’s the men. They’re here for, er, other people.”

“What?” She couldn’t be any less clear- your pounding head was beginning to grow fuzzy. 

“You’re harbouring more wanted men and women than you think, or than you’d like to admit. We need to round them up, and finish them off,” she said steadily. You frowned at her.

“I’m not giving up innocent people,” you spat.

“Believe me, [name],” her voice was strained with exasperation. “They are far from innocent. Just hand them over, and this whole ordeal can be over. No more men at your door, no more Silco breathing down your neck.”

You took a deep breath, rubbing your face, considering her words.

“And I have your word that whatever happens to them next will be deserved, be it good or bad?” You asked quietly.

She was surprisingly solemn in her response. “You have my word.”

“Fine. I’ll round them up, and drop them off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night, the Last Drop. Ten o’clock.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, whatever you say. But-“ you held up your hand. “I want a trade.”

She stared at you. “What?”

You scowled. “You think I’ll just give away my men for free? I want something in return.”

She suppressed a groan. “And what might that be? Money? Shimmer?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “I need collateral.”

She stared at you blankly. “Well, we don’t have collateral.”

“Something I can hold over his head,” you ploughed on. She laughed. 

“You know I’m right here, right? It’s my boss you’re scheming against.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Whatever, just- give me men in return.” 

“Wh- men?”

“Employee for employee.” You’d fully regained your composure by now, and you adjusted the cuffs of your sleeves. “It’s only fair.”

She stared at you incredulously. “Well, who would you want?”

“I’ll take my pick when the time comes,” you hummed, waving her out. She scowled, flinging the door open. Hand still on the doorknob, she paused, twisting her head around.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” She snarled.

You grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

[xenia12]

Here’s a bunch of 3+ year old incorrect TOH quotes from my notes app because I’m bored

News reporter: There are rumors that you recently went undercover at Hexside under the name “Caleb”. Is this true?

The Golden Guard: Pfft, TITAN no. Caleb’s just a pathetic wannabe who can’t stand his own incompetence. Like, seriously, he can’t do *anything* right. I feel bad for anyone who has to suffer the embarrassment of being within 20 feet of him. He’s such a loser.

Hunter, watching the clip on his scroll a few hours later: Say that to my face, you fucking tool. Stop being such a royal ass-kisser and get a real job.

The Emerald Entrails, sitting together after practice:

Willow: Are you okay?

Luz: No problemo!

Luz, internally: But it was all problemo.

Gus: What's your biggest fear?

Hunter: Being replaced.

Gus: Damn that's deep.

Gus: My new one is the Kool-Aid man but I feel kinda stupid about it now.

Hunter, lying in the woods, depressed: I'll never be a cop again. I'm gonna have to be a robber.

Lilith: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes.

The Golden Guard, stirring his coffee: I prefer it with salt.

Willow: What are you two arguing about this time?

Hunter: He’s always using human phrases incorrectly!

Gus: Cry me a table, Hunter.

Luz: I'm very disappointed in you, Vee.

Hunter: C'mon, don't get mad at Vee!

Luz: Hunter, stop telling Vee it's okay for her to punch you! She needs to learn not to punch people!

Hunter: But I'm not a person!

Vee: Which is why I punched him!

Lilith: *Turns on the breakroom light*

The Golden Guard: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Lilith: It’s four in the morning.

The Golden Guard: Turn the light back off.

Hunter: The joy of hanging out with Luz. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and she bites the tip of a marker off.

Camila: Can you come out?

Luz: Yeah gimme a minute…

Luz: Mom, I’m bi.

Camila: I know that. Come out to the car.

Luz: Okay.

Luz: Car, I’m bi.

Camila, a tired mother:

Willow: *lifting weights*

Hunter: Wow… She’s so intense!

Luz: I wonder what drives her.

Willow, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Hunter, protecting a palistrom forest: I am Hunter, I speak for the trees. Chop them down and I snap your knees.

Luz: I wanna be a knight!

Hunter, basically a knight: What the fuck do you want this shit for? I kill people, all right? Their blood is on my hands! Every night, when I go to sleep, I see their FUCKING faces staring at me! Their families weep, and I FEEL NOTHING! I’M DEAD INSIDE!

Luz: Man, I want some of that in my life!

Luz: I want a trip down memory lane.

Vee: *proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Luz’s lap*

Vee: I heard you needed these?

Luz: YES! ALL OF THEM!

Hunter: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Luz: Did Willow say “I love you” and you said “Thanks”?

Hunter: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

The Golden Guard, on live news: I can't imagine what the Owl Lady is planning, but I can tell you two things: we won't like it and it won't be legal.

Gus: Did you win? Or just not die?

Gus: Either way, hooray.

Hunter: ... Is "no" a valid answer?

Gus: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

The Golden Guard: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet?

Darius: Why?

The Golden Guard: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Lilith.

Darius: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that.

The Golden Guard: Darius, you have opened my eyes.

Lilith: Can we talk about that mass message you sent?

The Golden Guard: Why? It was important.

Lilith: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit".

Steve, shrugging: The people need to know.

Gus: How long do you think it’ll be until Willow finally snaps and commits murder?

Hunter: I’ve been operating under the assumption that it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to her.

Hunter: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Luz: Exactly.

Luz, to Amity: I told you he’d understand.

Willow: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Willow: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Hunter: There's something I have to ask about you-know-who.

Luz: Voldemort?

Hunter: No.

Luz: Is it Voldemort?

Hunter: It's not Voldemort.

Luz: You haven’t mentioned wizards once this conversation, so I’m gonna have to assume it’s Voldemort.

[the-jennisms]

I have said in multiple posts that I greatly dislike Varric going after Solas and that it doesn’t make sense for the Inquisitor to send Varric.

That said. I can see Varric wanting to go.

And it all comes back to Anders.

Veilguard’s spoilers ahead!

I’ve seen some people upset that Varric seems like a bottomless well of forgiveness for Solas but spoke with so much contempt about Anders. And I get why people would be upset at something that appears to be a contradiction but the way I understand Varric, the only reason that I could see him going after Solas, is because of Anders.

When we see Varric in Inquisition, the mage rebellion is in full swing. It’s been a few years since Anders betrayed all his friends. Lied to them, used them, and caused them all to have to run from Kirkwall. Varric’s home. The only place he wants to be. And Varric is still bitter as hell. Understandably. I was angry and bitter too. (I romanced Anders and he tricked me into blowing up a church. Fuck the chantry but still)

We hear Varric say a few unkind things at Anders expense in Inquisition but again, I feel that Varric has a right to feel angry and betrayed. Varric is surrounded by reminders of what Anders did. So many people dead, dying, starving, suffering.

Now we don’t see this next bit, we see Varric in Inquisition then Varric on the hunt for Solas. Not so much the middle but. So unless Varric says something that contradicts any of this in the comics or whatever, thes are my thoughts about how Varric gets from point a to b.

First and foremost, Varric doesn’t just blame Anders. As more and more time goes by, he blames himself. We do see this in Inquisition. He blames himself for uncovering corypheus, for the lyrium dagger, for Hawke in danger.

But over time, I think he’d start blaming himself more and more for Anders. Beyond just him introducing Anders to Hawke.

Because he knew Anders was spiraling. They all knew. And no one did anything to help. Not really. He bribed thugs to keep them away from Anders’ clinic, he tried to help him engage with elaborate ‘revenge fantasies’ as a way to blow off steam, tried to be his friend. But he didn’t do anything.

He knew Anders was getting worse. And he didn’t stop it. None of them did. They all ignored it until it was too late.

Now this isn’t fair to Varric, There isn’t much Varric himself could have done to help Anders. What does Varric know about separating a mage and a spirit? Curing an abomination? Basically nothing.

But feelings don’t have brains. Varric didn’t help his friend when he knew Anders needed it.

Dragon Age Veilguard’s main themes are about regret. And the reason Varric goes after Solas is, appropriately enough, because of his.

He failed last time. He failed Anders.

And now he sees another friend, spiraling. About to do something awful because they’ve convinced them self that it’s the only way. The same pattern. Hauntingly familiar. More urgency is added to this if the Inquisitor is in love with Solas, if Hawke loved Anders.

I never got quite the same feeling of friendship between Varric and the Inquisitor throughout most of Inquisition because Varric saw them as larger than life. More of a legend than a person. We do catch a glimpse of a more friendly relationship in Trespasser, when he’s spoiling the shit out of them like he does with all his friends. His relationship with the Inquisitor is different, but they are friends.

Varric’s desire to convince Solas to stop exists regardless of the Inquisitor’s resolve. But in the case of a Lavellan that loves Solas? It adds a whole new layer to Varric’s decision to try. Because he sees another friend friend suffering and knows she misses him.

And this time Varric would be desperate not to fail.

This time he’d do more. This time he won’t ignore the problem. This time things will be different.

And he fails.

Or he succeeds.

That depends in you, the player. It depends on Rook.

If you manage to get Solas to stop. To reunite with the Inquisitor, Varric wins. The only reason Rook could have done all this to begin with is because Varric got them there. Varric saved his friend. It cost him, but he did it. And he knew it could cost him.

On the way to the ritual site he something to the effect of ‘if we fight Solas, we’re all dead’ He knows he can’t fight Solas into submission. All he can do is try to talk. And even then. He knows.

“Take care of the team for me.”

He fucking knew. He’s not stupid.

He knew. But he wanted to save Solas. To help the inquisitor. To save the world he loves, because the people he loves live in it.

I’ve gotten 3 of Veilguard’s endings so far.

The one where you trick Solas, and the two redeem endings. I’m not bothering with the fight one.

While the trick ending feels an appropriate and karmic punishment for Solas, I cant have that be my ending.

Because of Varric.

I can’t let him die for nothing. His last wish, denied.

So that bald bitch is getting put it the path to redemption even if I have to drag his pretentious ass kicking and screaming. He’s gonna spend the rest of eternity protecting the world that Varric loved. Warts and all.

Now, as I said earlier. This is just my interpretation of Varric, your mileage may vary. But this is how I see it, as far as Varric’s role in Veilguard and how I feel Anders was a pivotal player in Varric’s choices.

[boszbichblitzo]

"S-sorry. I uh.... I kinda got lost in my own head for a minute, I'm good." The cold touch to his cheek was certainly a shock, but it was more of a reminder of what they'd lost. What Fizz had lost because of him, more accurately. Maybe it was fitting that the other imp was trying to ground him with such a stark reminder only to directly ask about the fire immediately after. Anxiety twisted in his chest as he considered his answer, he could just refuse to talk about it, Fizz would probably respect that.... but he deserved to know the truth. He deserved to hear the full story more than anyone, perhaps, and Cash clearly hadn't been telling the truth.

"Uh.... o-okay, I–– .....So, it was your birthday, right? I had this present I was coming to give you that I spent like.... all day working on. But um..... when I got to the tent where the party was happening, I saw my dad giving you that.... stupid fucking card. 'I wish you were my son'." Blitzo used air quotes as he said it, rolling his eyes at not only how fucking stupid the card was, but at himself for being so affected by something as small as a birthday card. "I got upset and ran off to go.... I dunno, cry or something, whatever.... I uh..... I wasn't paying attention and I shoved someone–– I forget who it was–– and he was.... carrying the cake. Candles were already lit and everything. The tent.... It went up so fast. I didn't even know what happened until my fuckin' dad was already running past me and then one of those fireworks hit me right in the fucking eye. Why were they even in a tent? Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put them there? I don't––" He cut himself off and took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out before continuing.

"A-anyway..... I went to try to get help when I saw how hurt you were, pointed a couple adults toward you, but then.... I heard my mom scream and saw our tent was..... it was bad, Fizz..... I ran in to try to help her, but I didn't–– I-I couldn't save her....." Blitzo paused again to wipe a few stray tears, the image of his mother burning right in front of him jumping back to the forefront of his mind as it so often did whenever anything reminded him of that night. "After it was all over..... my dad beat the absolute fucking shit outta me while you were getting carted off to the hospital and then told me to fuck off and never come back."

The tears threatened to come back full force and Blitzo had to take a minute just to steady his breathing before he could continue, shifting his focus back to the only other important person in his life..... who still refused to have an actual conversation with him that wasn't just hurling insults or emotional barbs. "You don't have to uh.... contribute, but.... I appreciate it. As long as I got somewhere I can hide some savings for her, that's enough. I just..... I know she hates me now and I can't really blame her for that, but I can't lose her too.... At least if she's alive and hates me, she's still alive, right?"

“…yes, but I want to,” his tone was gentle but firm, asserting that he wasn’t supporting Blitzo out of some imagined sense of duty but, instead, a desire to do so. That was all to say: Blitzo wasn’t a burden to him. Fizz cared endlessly about the other imp and wanted nothing more than to give him all of the love and support that he was willing, or perhaps able, to accept. “Hey, Blitzo. Are you in the room with me?” he hummed out the words softly, bringing one of cold hands to rest on the side of his best friends face in the subtle hope that the touch might shock him back into the present moment. Talking about the accident was, clearly difficult — but there was something that Fizz was wondering that had been left unsaid. If it was an accident? what happened? “I know this is—” he paused for a moment, “..uh, well, I know it’s a shit question to ask…but, well, I figured now is my chance to ask, ya know, without reopening a wound, or whatever…” The jester’s gaze flittered down as he spoke, struggling to build up to his question, his voice became really small “…what happened that night?”

Fizz nodded his head slowly as he listened to Blitzo’s words. It was so like him to be chiefly worrying about his sister while he, himself, was struggling. A hand came to rest on the back of his neck, rubbing the skin slightly as he allowed his features to warp into a concerned from. “Shit…I-I can try talking to her, I’m not sure she’ll listen to me either, but it’s worth a shot, right?…even if it just lets her know I’m here for her.” Fizz nodded his head enthusiastically at the thought of being able to help with the whole situation. He wasn’t getting much money at the moment — only a small slither of what the circus made — while the rest were paying for his hospital bills and prosthetics. But, he wanted to help. “I want to help! I, uh…well, I do have a place that I know your dad won’t look,” a slight blush heated his face, deciding not to mention that the hiding place he was thinking about also contained all of his, uh, more intimate items. Look, it was the only place he knew Cash hadn’t looked! and anyway, even if he found them, so long as the money was below a dildo or between the pages of a porn magazine? well, he was hardly going to go digging around, was he? It was kind of genius. The jester then levelled a finger at Blitzo, “I want to add to the funds though, not just hide your shit” his tone left no room for negotiation.

[postnuclearwar]

Would love to read an a/b/o atla fanfic where the pack isn't complete until zuko joins them, as he ends up being the pack omega that's necessary for the group to function peacefully and effectively

[autisticrosewilson]

Jason knows Bruce loved him that's why he's so pissed that Jokers still alive, he wants Bruce to PROVE that he still loves Jason by letting him kill his murderer, by choosing him.

The point of Red Hood is doing what Batman can't and nothing Bruce or Dick can say would change that Joker is still alive and there's another Robin who's going to suffer.

"Jason come home we still love you despite the murders 🥺" Okay then prove it, watch me put a bullet through the head of the man who murdered me and then let me come home. No? You can't? Well then I guess I was right the entire time and you're all useless and will never love me as I am. I'm going to non-fatally but very painfully hurt you now btw.

^ how it would actually go if Dick or Bruce or whoever found out his identity early

[tora-the-cat]

An interesting little fun thing with team 7 is that you assume that Sakura's gonna, like, woobify and simplify Sasuke by putting him on a pedastal,cause her goal is centered around him and shes a 12 y/o fangirl so like of course her understanding of him is skewed cause she doesnt see him as a person, just an object of affection, right? She's can't get Sasuke, can't imprint on and/or traumabond with him like Naruto and Kakashi do. They don't see him with rose tinted glasses, because they've lived through their own Horrors and empathize with Sasuke's experience.

......right?

WRONG lmao!! They have too many ghosts!! Naruto's single-minded codependent ass won't get out of his own way long enough to see Sasuke for who he actually is, only able to empathize with the parts of his trauma Naruto relates to and not really capable of understanding him outside of the context of himself (because Sasuke is. His other half). And Kakashi is far too jaded to be fair to him!! He can't decide if Sasuke is gonna end up as a mini-him or a mini-Obito or maybe a mini-Itachi, but either way he ALSO is too traumatized to see Sasuke AS SASUKE.

meanehile SAKURA'S autistic ass may have dogshit empathy, but you know what she does have? A special interest in sasuke. Nothing better to do then give herself a degree in Uchihaisms. She can write character studies about him. she can read his soul. Whenever she says something about him she is right. Every fucking time! She is RIGHT!!!!

'sasuke would NOT compliment me this directly or explicitly express worry unprompted, especially if it gets in the way of his goals' correct.

'Sasuke shouldn't hide that curse on his neck its not healthy BUT if I tell anyone about it he'll never trust me again, which might be even more dangerous for him then the curse mark. Like he can probably handle the curse mark but no one else can stop him from ripping peoples arms off.' correct.

Speaking of! 'Sasuke would not hurt me even when he seems to be...possessed? whatever the only way to knock him out of it is to present myself as Alive and thus something to be protected rather then something to be avenged, because he gets really stuck in his own head about revenge' CORRECT

'hey so um. like. Sasuke's gonna leave Konoha. I'm not sure anything can stop him at this point and honestly I'm kinda starting to doubt anything should, so the only thing I could possibly do to help him at this point is ALSO defect.' CORRECT!!!!

[a-hazbin-spider]

With the typical customer-issued confidentiality, Angel had no problem keeping things quiet. Not even when he was alive. That isn’t to suggest that he was quiet in general, just that all the information would be kept with him until further disclosed. He’s no snitch, he’s a pest but he keeps the important things tucked away. Unless he had mad shit to talk about his boss, that was different. His boss was- a boss! Anyone had a right to vague complaints or bitching and moaning about it.

Either way, Angel’s image was never cuddly to the public, he hadn’t taken to being soft. But he did really enjoy this. Whatever the other decided he’d call it, Angel would take to it in a heartbeat. It felt peaceful. He felt an odd sense of security and warmth. He liked it, wouldn’t want to ruin a good thing like he is sure he had with so many others.

“Thirty-nine. That’s a pretty good number. You won that one between us, that’s for sure. Tha’ roof was pretty incredible luck too. There ain’t nothin’ easy when you’re on yer lonesome. An’ you kept it up anyway. You was smart, I’m willin’ to bet.” Angel didn’t have any doubt in his words, in fact, sounded pretty convinced. Not that the other gave him anything but a refined man to see and listen to.

It did surprise him though, a question like that one. He had… maybe thought of it, once upon a time. But, far as he’s concerned a funeral or grave- a service? He didn’t think past the fact that he would have been preserved for a bit in that blizzard dying as he did. His mouth opened to respond, but it took a good moment before he could find any words to pull out.

“A… grave? Yeah right..!” Laughing over it provided a less than charming snort, but he moves on quickly enough. “I dunno who would do it. I’d been on my own for a while at that point. And I doubt nobody had been lookin’. Who knows, I might be in a hole somewhere. May be under a name that might or might not belong to me. Can’t even tell ya if my Pops claimed the body. What can ya do?”

A shrug might give a light rock to their position, but nothing else. Deciding to answer that was making him crave nicotine. Weird. All his fingers do on that impulse is twitch however, he doesn’t just fish one out and light up, how rude would that be?

His eyes glance over the stag quickly, was that too much? He shouldn’t yap about it. It wasn’t his business really, but Angel didn’t shut him down. He got this far, why not? Not like it’s important.

“Ho-how about you? You think you had a grave? For your bones to stay safe in. It looked like ya had a few people that liked ya.”

Others are often so disappointed when he brings ‘boring’ life into things. Including interests of his, or- even Cherri had been less eager to hang out when he’d taken sobriety with more sincerity. He’d worried about telling anything like that for good reason. His whole persona he’d built was to sell others a good time and keep himself simple. This..? Nobody wanted this. Well, not until recent it would seem. He’s messy, complicated in all the most irritating ways. And had too much knowledge on sea life to be typical. But he thinks that’s a plus. Either way, his imagery isn’t one people tend to put in such wholesome scenarios.

Alastor’s comfort, his trust in the moment hadn’t been taken for granted. With Angel not liking his dirty laundry aired (which Al very well could Air something if he’d like) and finding a sense of peace in this for himself, he wouldn’t dream of letting a moment like this be blabbed about. Not that anyone would believe him even if he did. Intimacy like this was rare, and held a warmth to it that leaked pleasantly in his bones. He’s careful, testing any touch he’s unsure of. Clearly he knows what an unsung honor this is. At the same time, he finds that he’s benefitting from this too. More relaxed, comforted by the scent, and by the allowance to cuddle, to have a little tenderness.

When Alastor responds in kind to tell him that he’d died when he had, and how their lives had overlapped however shortly- it was oddly interesting to him. That and, he forgets sometimes, him being young like that, he never got to really age. And his position wasn’t great- he couldn’t help that he wonders sometimes what an average life would be. How glamorous even a civil kind of life could be.

“You got to be over thirty..! And ya got through tha’ crash, made it as an entertainer… that’s impressive. I’d lissen t’ more about that, if you’d let me.”

He sort of feels childish asking. But, normalcy- just about any kind one could think of, he can’t say he had insight. But, already Alastor made him remember not even his death was typical. How bout that.

“Mmh? Well, I dunno about that, I ain’t sure that nobody was too sad about it. One situation led to another, and next thing you know-”

One hand makes a vague ‘poof’-ing gesture. He would share if asked but… it is odd. Hearing someone talk about him like that. For someone who tries to laugh things off… this? Made his chest feel a little tight. Strange.

“I did everything I could, but it weren’t no surprise I ended up the way I did. Kinda wonder how long my body was buried in the snow before anyone found it.”

[dootplusone]

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(If the OP would prefer this post not link back to the OG post or is otherwise is not okay w/ this post in reference to theirs, please let me know in some form so I can delete/edit it as needed.)

Thinking. Abt this but with Bones. Like. Post-Tholian Web? Post-Mirror Mirror?

For AOS, could be after Into Darkness and/or Beyond.

A Bones who's just. So anxious. So stressed. So overwhelmed that it starts taking a toll on his health. Maybe he doesn't even realise - or maybe he does and tries his best to push through it until it knocks him on his ass. Kind of in the vein of "You don't actually know how tired you are until you stop. And then you just physically cannot start again." It becomes his new baseline, a problem that just brews and storms in the distance.

And he just carries on. And keeps going and going and going until one day he realises that 'Oh fuck, I'm not okay' and has about 5 seconds of warning before he straight up collapses, doesn't matter if it's on the bridge, in the madbay, on a planet - he's going down. (Maybe a repeat of Tholian Web where he just straight up faints into Spock's arms? Full whammy, why not)

Maybe it's a high-tension situation getting resolved that does it. The pure relief of it reminds him of how tired he is. How tired he's been for a while. His body sees that momentary rest and goes "More of that, please. And I'm not asking."

And he's so rendered by it that he doesn't grumble about being coddled like he normally would when he wakes up. He knows not to fuck with the medbay staff - they're just as firm as he is on recovery, and that's not by accident - and he knows that Spock and Kirk will be hovering, because they see any problem as something they, too, should shoulder the burden of.

...And because they're some of the most protective people in the damned universe. And that goes for pretty much all the people on board the Enterprise.

In some scenarios, it's just a case of letting his body and mind rest properly. In others, there's a lot more recovery involved than anyone initially expects. Luckily for him, he has a found family who are determined to be there with him at every step. It just takes a couple reminders, every once in a while.