#I want alistair to shut the fuck up

[dumbdolphin3]

if there is ever an Eah reboot, I want Alistair to be that one friend who whenever they say anything everyone just goes “oh my god shut the FUCK up” like he could literally say the smartest thing ever and then everyone would just groan with annoyance

[sparkly-skies]

@reserved-fruit thank you for the link to this video with Kris' heart ring (goes perfectly with Keep Me Grounded, Keep Me Calm, just saying 👀 do you like friends (Bojan and Kris) comforting each other and jokingly proposing while still being deeply serious about how important their friendship is? Go read this!).

Here's some screenshots to look at with me, why? Because I'm a touchstarved bitch and scream and cry at any sighting of physical affection. Thank you Bojan for providing enrichment in my enclosure.

Also this one. Because I see a mention of friends spending time together because they love each other and love spending time together, I scream and screech in missing my friends noises.

[scoobydoodean]

So—Dean is refusing to torture Alistair in the beginning of "On The Head Of A Pin", right? And Uriel is telling him he has to. And you’d think that when Dean asks to speak to Cas alone, it’d be in an effort to bargain or plead (something Uriel isn’t amenable to at all and never has been) or to let Cas give him a more candid and convincing argument on how this is the right thing.

But when Dean gets Cas alone, he just wants to know why Uriel is in charge of Cas now, and then he wants to tell Cas torturing Alistair is going to bring something horrifying out of Dean. Cas doesn’t do any convincing at all. He doesn’t make any further argument for why Dean has to do this—he doesn’t tell Dean it’s for the greater good. Hell—it seems like Cas got demoted because he balked at asking Dean to do this to begin with. Cas doesn’t want Dean to do this and doesn’t try to convince him to! But the scene cuts and Dean is pushing his torture-set-on-wheels into the room where Alistair is being kept! So why? How does that interaction result in Dean suddenly deciding to do something he was refusing to do moments before???

I think it’s because Cas showed Dean sympathy.

The episode opens with Dean trying to tell Sam he’s hurting. He’s grieving Pam (they’re driving from her funeral), he feels like her death is his fault, he feels like they aren’t making any progress on saving the world—they’re just fuck ups who are going to fail.

DEAN I'm tired of burying friends, Sam. SAM Look, we catch a fresh trail— DEAN And we follow it, I know. Like I said, I'm just—I'm just getting tired. SAM Well, get angry!

No sympathy from Sam. Sam wants Dean to nut up—and that's what Sam said last episode too, and it's what he said the episode before that too while under the Siren's spell.

They get into the motel and Uriel and Cas are standing there waiting for them when Dean just wanted to sleep after an awful day, and Uriel says they're needed. Dean says he just got back from needed, and Uriel tells him to mind his tone. Then of course,

CASTIEL Dean, we know this is difficult to understand. URIEL And we— URIEL gives CASTIEL a significant look. URIEL —don't care.

So no one is showing Dean any sympathy, right? Everyone is telling him to shut up and do what needs to be done—except Cas. Cas is sympathizing with him. And when Dean gets Cas alone?

DEAN You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out. CASTIEL For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.

And that's all it takes. That's literally all it takes—is just a single shred of sympathy—someone saying that they care that Dean is in pain—that they care what this will do to him and don't wish this on him. Just someone saying that they understand and that they care is enough and Dean agrees.

Don't ever let anyone tell you Dean "needs tough love".

[queen-haq]

Fic: Grudgingly Yours - Part 10

Grudgingly Yours, Part 10

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A  - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 10

You were irritated beyond belief, but you reminded yourself to stay calm. Six weeks. It took six weeks for Alistair to agree to meet you. His avoidance and refusal to see you was intentional, your punishment for daring to speak up when he was bitching out Billy and then ignoring him. In hindsight, you should have kept your mouth shut and minded your own business. But that was the past, and there was nothing you could do to change it. Now you just had to eat crow and make amends so you could move on with your fucking life.

After another twenty minutes of waiting in Alistair’s home office, he walked in. His slow gait, supported by the ebony walking stick, may have made him look weak and fragile – but it was a ruse. This man was brutal and ruthless, and you couldn’t afford to forget that.

“Such a surprise to find you here.” His tone was cold as ice as he took a seat across from you. Obviously he wasn’t just going to get to the point, he wanted to put you through the wringer for talking back to him.

“I apologize for ignoring your calls after the party.”

His disapproval was evident, his tone dripping with scorn. “Yes. You did that, didn’t yo?”

Maybe he expected you to beg and plead for his forgiveness but that wasn’t your style. Besides, he’d be ecstatic at the reason you were here. “We both know this arrangement hasn’t worked out like we hoped.”

“Indeed.”

“So it’s best that we cut our losses and move on, don’t you think? I’ll happily sign the divorce papers as soon as you can get your lawyers to draw them up.”

Alistair simply stared at you, no emotions on his face. “I suppose you expect the same payment of $5 Million?”

You cocked your eyebrow. “I deserve more for putting up with your asshole grandson, but I’ll settle for $3 Million instead.” Frankly, you were willing to walk away with nothing but Alistair didn’t need to know that.

“It hasn’t even been a year of marriage and you expect more than half the amount?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.”

A cold smile fell on his lips, and it made the hair stand on the back of your neck. “There will be no negotiation. You will stay married to him, as agreed upon, for a period of three years. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. Was he fucking with you? You thought he’d jump at the offer. The most pushback you expected was about the divorce settlement, but it never occurred to you he’d force you to stay married. No, absolutely fucking not. “You can find someone else to punish your grandson.”

“I’ve already spent considerable time sourcing you. That was enough.”

“I’m not the kind of woman who follows orders, Alistair. I’m trouble. I fight back. And you don’t want that, you want someone who obeys. So there’s no need to prolong this bullshit arrangement.”

Alister raised his eyebrow, drawing your attention to the uncanny family resemblance that existed in the Russo family. “You will do as I say when I say it. You will be at my beck and call and ready to do my bidding.” A cold sneer settled over his lips, like he was enjoying this.

Disgusted, you stood up. “I’m not your fucking servant.”

“Sit down, cunt!”

The stark hatred in his voice stunned you frozen. His face was red with anger, his dark eyes flashing with pure vitriol. “You think I’ll let some dirty whore belittle me and get away with it?” He shook his head ‘no’. “You’re nothing. Less than nothing. A fucking cotton-picker. The only reason you’re here is to knock some sense into my goddamn grandson. So you’ll do your fucking part and you’ll behave. And if you don’t, I’ll make sure you and your dirty pack of monkeys pay.”

His racist tirade shouldn’t have been a surprise. You dealt with microaggressions your entire life but to have it be so explicitly thrown in your face, that too by someone whose life you saved in the operating room – that was a bitter pill too swallow.

A deceptive calm settled over you. “You will regret this, Alistair.”

His demeaning smile was like salt on your wounds. “We’ll see.”

You watched after him as he made his way out of the room.

***

Calvin was on his phone, sitting up in bed next to you. Sheets were gathered around his waist, his chest bare. It was almost a year since you saw him last and in that time he’d gotten more buff. That was definitely a pleasant surprise. Smiling, you snuggled up to him and he squeezed your arm in return.

It was so easy with him. It always was. The relationship, the sex, the friendship. Even the fickin’ breakup in college had been smooth. That’s because Calvin didn’t play games. He wasn’t romantic or thoughtful – or faithful - but you knew exactly where you stood with him and that’s what mattered the most. Besides, you weren’t looking to be in a committed relationship. The no strings thing worked for you and satisfied all of your expectations, and you were happy with it.

"Still can’t believe you’re married.”

Calvin’s words brought you out of your reverie. “It’s a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.”

“Who does that shit these days?”

You scoffed. “Like you would’ve said no.”

“Maybe not but I’d be worried. What if I ended up with a psycho? Or some ugly hag?”

“Oh no, not that,” you deadpanned.

He gathered you in his arms. “That’s a guy’s worst nightmare. Stuck with an ugly wife.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, it’s not like I called you ugly.”

“Yeah, I’m so lucky.”

He laughed, hugging you tightly. “No, it’s Billy Russo who’s lucky. He could’ve gotten stuck with pure ghetto trash. Instead he got a queen like you.”

You grimaced, hearing Billy's name but Calvin didn't seem to notice. Instead he angled forward to kiss you as your mind dwelled on his words. As flattering as they were, the Russos didn’t share the sentiment. To them you were nothing, less than that. And there was no way you'd stay connected to them.

Despite Alistair's threats, you were going to find a way out.

***

“What do you think?” Calvin asked.

The two of you were out for dinner at a new restaurant Calvin was excited to try. He was supposed to leave yesterday but had extended his trip, which you were originally happy about. Unfortunately Calvin’s finance bro side was out in full-force and he was trying to sell you on some stocks.

You studied the financial records in front of you, trying to focus. While you could easily get through pages and pages of anatomy and physiology textbooks, finance was never your thing. But even you understood that the return in your investments Calvin was promising seemed too good to be true. “I’m not sure. I need time to think.” Which meant Ritu, one of your closest friends and a genius at this stuff, would be vetting the records for you.

“What? You don’t trust me?” The same dazzling smile that hooked your attention from the moment you met graced his face. “Think I’m hustling you?” He winked.

You shut the folder, biting down on your bottom lip. “Not making any deals when I’m hungry.”

He laughed, dragging the menu closer to him. “What do you want to eat?” You were still deciding when he spoke next. “How about lobster? Been craving it.”

You shook your head, not at all surprised. “Sure. Been dying for an anaphylactic shock.”

“Shit. I forgot you’re allergic.”

“You always do.”

“But I mean, I can have it. Right? It’s not like you’re going to start wheezing if it’s on the table.”

You sighed, shaking your head. They had this conversation every few years, because Calvin couldn’t bother to remember the details. Which was another reason why he was a friend and nothing more. “You can have it. I just won’t kiss you for the next few hours.”

“Oh, it’s like that?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned down to give you soft, staccato kisses on your lips. “Totally,” you murmured, kissing him back.

“Technically we don’t need to kiss to fuck,” he murmured.

You pushed him away, giggling. “Or maybe you can go fuck yourself.”

He laughed, nodding at the waiter to get his attention. After the two of you put in your orders, his phone rang. “I have to take this.” Calvin slid out of the cozy booth and headed outside, leaving you alone.

Out of boredom, you started flipping through the statements again. Like that wasn’t bad enough, you took a sip of his bourbon to see if you’d acquired a taste for it. Immediately you put it down. Nope, absolutely not. You hated the stuff. Swallowing the liquid, you were about to reach for a glass of water when a familiar face slid into your booth. Immediately you froze.

Billy.

Eyes bloodshot, face weary, fatigue marked his features like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His beard was a bit fuller, not as neatly trimmed, and hair a bit longer. The scruffed-up look should have been a deterrent to his good looks but it proved to be the opposite. Even in his green bomber jacket and casual get-up, he looked like a GQ model.

Your heart pounded in your chest, you wanted to bolt. But you didn’t. Because running would mean he affected you and he absolutely didn’t. Not anymore. You learned your lesson from your last encounter with him.

“Disappointed to see me alive?”

Your voice was calm and steady, just like your heart would soon be. “Couldn’t care less actually.”

His molten eyes narrowed onto your face. “I went through hell to come home but you weren’t there. The place was empty.”

You swirled the liquid around in the glass before taking a sip again. This time you were numb to the bitter taste.

“Anita said you moved out weeks ago.”

Your gaze lifted to meet his. “What do you want, Billy?”

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

His eyebrow quirked up in surprise. Maybe he was expecting tears or some kind of angry showdown, but you were prepared to give him nothing.

“You’re pissed at me,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“No. Why would I be?”

He paused, peering at you closely. “How I left Curtis’s wedding, I want to explain-”

“There’s no need.” Head tilted to the side, you casually ran fingers through your hair. “It doesn’t matter and I don’t really care.”

“Bullshit.” His dark eyes bore into yours, trying to forge some kind of connection. “You care. That’s why you’re here.” His head nudged in the direction of the door. “With that fuckhead.”

Rage rushed through you like wildfire but you refused to give into the chaos. He didn’t deserve any kind of emotional outbursts from you. He deserved nothing. Leveling him with a fixed gaze, which took all of your resolve, you responded in a steady tone. “Don’t insult my friends.”

“Yeah but he’s not just a friend, is he? He’s more than that. You’re fucking him!” He gritted through clenched teeth.

You leaned back in your seat. “And how is that any of your business?”

“Say it. Admit that you’re fucking him.”

Pure menace laced his voice but underneath the danger you also sensed hurt, like he was in pain – and you didn’t understand why, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. He was the one who humiliated you. He’s the one who walked away. And now he was here demanding answers like he had a right to you or something. Fuck that. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

You crossed your elbows, straightening your back.

Two months ago you opened yourself up to him, letting him in a way you rarely had with anyone else. Despite all your reservations about his behaviour, despite your insecurities. You used to think you could trust your instincts about people because they never guided you wrong. Your instincts screamed Billy was safe, that he could be trusted, that he wouldn’t hurt you - and then you were swiftly proven wrong when he absolutely shattered you.

You hated him. Despised him. Because of him, you could no longer trust yourself and you could never forgive him for that.

And he would never know anything about you again or how you felt. He’d never have that power over you again. “What I do with Calvin, if I fuck him, how I fuck him, when I fuck him – none of that concerns you, Billy.”

Suddenly he reached across the table, grasping your face, the desperation in his eyes startling you. “You’re my goddamn wife!”

Voice exposing none of your tumultuous emotions, you wrung his hand away from your face. “On paper. That’s all. And only because your grandfather promised me the good life.”

He didn’t release his grip on you, his fingers intertwined with yours. “In the beginning, yeah. But things changed.”

You gave him a perfectly perfunctory smile that belied all the anger and hurt swirling through you. “Nothing changed.”

Billy squeezed your fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Once a golddigger, always a golddigger. We don’t change our ways.”

“What’s going on here?” Calvin asked.

Shit.

His return caught you by surprise, you totally forgot about him. Immediately you retracted your hand from Billy while Calvin’s eyes wandered from you to him. His return was a blessing in disguise because he distracted Billy, giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.  You could still feel the heat of Billy’s touch on your skin, like he’d branded you permanently. You wanted to cut him out, out of your life, out of your mind, out of every crevice in your soul he’d managed to sneak into and embed himself.

“Is everything okay?” Calvin asked, looking at you.

“Everything’s fine.” You gave him your most flirtatious smile before casting a quick glance at Billy. “You’re interrupting our date. Please leave.”

Billy leaned back in his seat, still watching you intently before a sneer curved his lips. Finally he shifted his focus to Calvin, the snide smile on his face growing more prominent. A smug prick through and through, and you wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

Not one to back down from a fight, Calvin stared back at him. “She asked you to leave.”

Billy snickered, amused. You expected him to be a little intimidated by Calvin’s muscular frame but he didn’t seem the least bit threatened, irking you. His gaze finally returned to you, his hands sliding into the pockets of his bomber jacket. Only few minutes earlier he was playing the part of jilted lover, and now he was right back to being the entitled asshole that he really was.  

“I fucked up before, so this right here?” He drew a circle in the air with his fingers.  “I’ll give you a pass for this fuckface. But it ends here. Tonight.”

“Who the fuck you think you’re talking to?” Calvin roared, taking a step toward Billy.

You grabbed Calvin’s arm. He was ready for a fight but Billy remained seated, grinning, like he was enjoying this. “Ignore him,” you urged Calvin.

“This one needs a tighter leash, sweetheart,” Billy taunted.

Seeing that Calvin was about to pounce, you pulled him into the booth to sit beside you. Snuggling closer to Calvin, you linked your hand with his. “Go away. You’re not wanted here.”

Billy’s attention shifted from you to Calvin. In an instant his smarminess was gone, replaced with a sinister expression that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. “End things with my wife. Tonight.” The quietness of his voice contradicted the full malice in his tone. “Because if I see you with her again?” He slid out of the booth in one fluid motion, rising to his full height. His stature was foreboding, his words hostile. “I’ll kill you.”

He swaggered away as quickly as he appeared, leaving you and Calvin watching after him.

“You should’ve let me take a swing at him,” Calvin griped.

You scooted away to put some distance between you and him. Your throat felt dry, your nerves on edge. Seeing Billy again, talking to him, it unleased all of the emotions you’d buried after he left you. You swigged back a glass of water.

“Thought you said he was cool with everything. Why was he being a punk then?”

You rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. “Because he’s bored and this is a game to him.”

“Do I have to worry about this asshole?”

You turned to look at him. “Of course not. Someone else will come along to distract him.”

“Are you sure?” Calvin asked.

“Yes,” you said with certainty. Spotting the server bringing food your way, you bit down on your lip. “Can we grab this to go? I just want to go back to the hotel room.”

“Thought you were hungry.”

You sighed. “I lost my appetite.”

***

The moment you and Calvin returned to his room, you jumped him. Kissing him roughly, grinding your hips against his. You needed to forget every trace of Billy and Calvin could do that for you. His mouth claimed yours, his body holding you down on the bed. You closed your eyes, letting the pleasure take over.

You needed this, you needed him.

Because losing yourself was the only way to get Billy out of your mind.

***

Few days later you returned to the Airbnb you were staying at. Eventually Alistair would force you to return to the penthouse but until then you were doing short-term rentals. After coming back from the wedding, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place you shared with Billy. So you’d grabbed a bunch of your clothes and necessities and found somewhere else to stay. The one-bedroom condo was definitely not on the same level as the penthouse, but you liked it. It was small and cozy and had everything you needed.

You glanced down at your phone. Still no texts from Calvin. You were supposed to meet him for dinner at Carbone but he hadn’t showed up. That in itself wasn’t surprising. He had a tendency to forget plans or run late most of the time, but usually he texted. Oh well.

You flicked on the light switch in the kitchen but nothing happened. Great. You’d have to contact the host to get the bulb replaced. Walking over to the cabinet, you reached up to grab a glass and strolled over to the fridge to get some water.

You were almost done with the drink when you felt a strange sensation sweep through you. Like you weren’t alone in the apartment. Like you were being watched.

You paused. Knives were two cabinets over. Too far. But you had a glass in your hand.

“Miss me, sweetheart?”

Billy. His low, raspy voice was coming from behind you.

You took a slow, deep breath and then whirled around to attack him.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. Feedback keeps me going and I appreciate every comment and reblog you guys throw my way.

Next chapter - we'll finally get Billy's POV :)

[sneakyblinders]

summer beach house pt 1- tommy shelby x oc

A/N: lil blurb for a new au (lol) for tommy x ali, aka the summer beach house au! hope you guys enjoy.

Tommy's attention turned quickly from his newspaper when he heard the front door of his Manhattan condo slam shut. His brow furrowed as he heard light footsteps scamper past the dining room and trail down the hallway towards his daughters bedrooms. "Hi, Daddy!" Twelve year old Marisol, affectionately known as Mari, chirped as she closed her bedroom door quickly.

"Morning," he grumbled as the front door cracked open again and he heard his wife, Alistair walk through the door, on the phone with someone from her bakery. "Yes, I am aware we are out of the espresso chips and I've told you a thousand times our supplier discontinued them, so we may have to cut the espresso chip cookies from the menu," she explained, an annoyed tone to her voice. Tommy smirked, raising an eyebrow as she walked into the dining room, clad in a matching hot pink Pilates set. Tommy set his paper down, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he watched her pace back and forth, curves on full display in her activewear. She turned to look at him and blushed, his gaze hungry and wanting. "Celeste, I gotta go, we'll talk later," Ali said, hanging up the phone. She set her phone down on the solid oak buffet and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mr. Shelby," she smirked. "Where in hell did you go looking this fucking good this early in the morning, hm?" he asked, standing up and stalking over towards her, arms caging her in against the wood of the buffet. She giggled as Tommy nuzzled against her neck, biting the flesh gently, earning a squeak from her. "Thomas, the girls will be in here any second," she giggled, making no attempt to swat him away. "Still need to shower though, hm?" he asked her, a naughty twinkle in his eye. "Yes, but, Thomas, you're already dressed," Ali pointed out, noting his dark blue suit she loved him in. "Can always get dressed again," he rasped, pressing a kiss to her lips.

The girls bounded in the dining room, ready for their breakfast of cereal, toast and eggs. "Ew, Daddy, get off Mommy!" Lexi, their younger daughter told them, wrinkling her nose at their affection. At ten, she didn't quite get romance. They both knew she'd be there soon. "But she looks so pretty this morning," Tommy counter-argued, earning an eye roll from both his daughters. "Will you sit with us this morning?" Mari asked them, eyes wide in anticipation. Tommy and Ali eyed each other, and Tommy mentally flushed his desire of a shared shower with his wife down the drain. "Of course," Tommy said. How could he deny them anything?

"Girls, Frances is going to start packing some of your things, we leave for the beach house in two weeks," Tommy said when they were halfway through their breakfast. School had let out last week for the summer, and Tommy had a few things to finish up in the city before he could afford to go down to South Carolina for the rest of the summer. Ali was ready. Ready for a break. Ready for a break from the city, the bakery, their city life. The girls cheered, excited to be back at their beach house, back with their beach house friends. Swimming all summer and eating some of the best food.

Ali smiled at Tommy, who bumped her knee against his with a wide smile on his face. It would be a summer to remember.

[leastdatablebracket]

SEMI-FINALS, MATCH 2

Propaganda under the cut!

Peter King

Propaganda

Oh I could go ON AND ON but here’s a list: He’s a stalker, he showed up late to a date HE REQUESTED, he killed either your landlord, roommate, or coworker (depending on route) and stuck them in a freezer, lied to the police about it, followed by a car ride either consisting of traumadumping about his family (valid tbh) or him talking about how much he wants to fuck your brains out, then you finding a bloody knife in his glove compartment, asking about it, and him smashing your head into the window to shut you up while he takes you to his house. He is The Worse Datable, as well as The Only Datable because well…he killed the others…and kidnapped you….

FUCK THIS DUDE!!! Country Human looking-ass bitch, I want him dead and obliterated

Many violence, Yandere behavior, cut your leg off in a semi-canon series of illustrations, smashed your head into the passenger side window of his creepy van, chloroformed you in your own house, brought you flowers that were probably tainted with his own blood, given context from another route. Generally a terrible person. Also just very strange to look at :/

He knows what he did….😒

He broke into Y/N’s house and chloroformed them. Generally a really creepy and perverted guy. TK is better :/

Send that man to Worst Datable Hell! Put him in the trash file (he’s a pseudo-sentient AI, similar to Monika, so this threat is valid)! He sometimes looks like a kicked puppy when talking to you, but with your small contributions, we can make him look even more like a kicked puppy! Vote Peter King for Worst Datable Datable Character today! Bonus: Funny canon facts about him! - He can’t swim - He’s allergic to peanuts - He has to wear glasses, but usually wears contacts - He had an emo/goth phase in high school - He’s a YouTuber; he does product reviews - He has very strong mother issues (understandably) - He will respond to and greatly enjoy the nickname “Cockbite” (there are many other names he enjoys, but this one’s the funniest to me)

Cullen Rutherford

Propaganda

stupid racist cop creep whose fans cry about how hes "changed" and "you can't judge him he was addicted to magic drugs" nah he still chose to be a racist cop and abuse his power over innocent people and i hate him. the writers making him romanceable in da:i after how blatantly horrible he was in da:o and da:2 is baffling but i guess they had to appeal to the part of their audience who watch those "mafia boyfriend" videos on tiktok or whatever

He's creepy in origins, though still 100% willing to kill the female mage pc he's crushing on, as well as all the other mages trapped in the circle with him. He's the second-in-command in an even worse circle in 2, listening to and defending the increasingly obviously insane meredith until literally the end. He's one of the people still pushing for the circle system by inquisition, and yes he's going through withdrawals and working through the traumas of previous games. And to be brutally honest his was the first romance i took and while i don't remember much from it, its not worth all the girls going absolutely nuts over knockoff terrible alistair.

He's basically a cop who thinks being born a certain way can revoke personhood and by Inquisition still thinks mages are monsters to be controlled, not people. He gets a fairy tale cutesy romance that focuses on his personal struggles with addiction while showing absolutely no regard to the atrocities he committed and still thinks were justified. He can be romanced BY A MAGE and his actions and beliefs are just glossed over. He believes mages are 'not people like you (Hawke) and me', but if the Warden was a female mage he canonically had a crush on her and would deliberately hang around her despite the fact that he was her *jailer*. If that Warden romanced Leliana, there is war table dialogue in which he pesters Leliana for news of his 'former' crush despite her repeated statement that she doesn't want to talk to him about her. All this shitty behavior and lack of introspection gets swept under the rug by the game, not even giving the PC the chance to really challenge his beliefs. Like damn even Fenris could apologize when he lashed out due to past trauma with mages, and if anyone has a reason to hate mages it's Fenris. If you want an ex Templar hottie Alistair is RIGHT THERE. Tbh I know Cullen is a popular romance and I'm not here to tell anyone what they can or can't do or like in a video game, I'm just saying I think he is deeply undateable

Spends the first two games as an antagonist, fervently devoted to the cause of subjugating mages, then a bunch of "character development" happens off screen and the games treat him like he's completely reformed. However he's actions make it clear he still sees mages as dangerous and lesser. Not to mention if you romance him with an elf he doesn't pay your culture more than lip service respect like most of the devout characters 

He was a total villain in the first two games who was violently prejudiced against mages and uses one single bad experience as an excuse for it (a bad experience that is pretty much exactly what he in his job subjected graduating apprentices to, mind you, but this is never brought up). Now he says he's changed, but his words and actions say otherwise. He still distrusts mages, sympathises with the rebel Templars trying to kill them, and he never owns up to the terrible stuff he did and helped others do in the past two games. He totally knew what Meredith was doing and says he doesn't, and he still tries to defend her intentions. And you have no option to call him out on it. If you romance him as a mage, he angsts about how he might have seen you as subhuman in the past but NOW you're one of the good ones, and when you ask him if he'll kill you if you get possessed, he dodges the question. And the PC is written as being almost sad that she's a mage? Like 'can you love me despite what I am??' Also if Leliana romanced a female mage PC in the first game who is still alive, he asks her creepy questions about their relationship. Fitting considering his original purpose was to be creepy to the female mage Warden. 

I hate him and want to cause chaos. Plus his VA is an asshole.

Cop

I think you covered almost everything but don't forget that beautiful moment in DA2 - Act 2 where you find out some templars had a petition to lobotomize all mages and Meredith, THE HARDCORE TEMPLAR LEADER, rejects it, but Cullen says they got a point. Despite the fact that we just found out that those templars were using lobotomy (or the threat of) to rape people and get away with it. And then Cullen in DA:I is whining that anything that happened it's not his fault because Meredith kept the worse away form him so he didn't know, but also that anyway Meredith had a point and did what she had to do. Meredith does not go mad until Act 3, before she was of sound mind and Culllen was her second in command BECAUSE he hated mages as much as (or even more) than her. What the FUCK did she even hide from you, Cullen. Oh, but he changed! Because the writers make A VICTIM OF THE TEMPLARS say so. And anyway he only says so BECAUSE HE READS MINDS not because Cullen did anything to show it. Also the narrative wants to sympathise with Cullen for his drug problems while Cullen is openly attacking the only other character with the same problem for...having the same problem. And he's the antagonist, so there were OTHER things Cullen could be mad about. But he is mad about the drug problem. Also I'm not an expert on writing characters with addictions but he is an addict only when it's time to have a cut scene where you pity him. Otherwise it has zero impacts on everything else.

[greypetrel]

*peeks* *runs away, just to return with TEGLIA DI LASAGNE*

What's Alyra's unfiltered opinion on the other blorbos? And most importantly, on their crushes 👀 Also, if Max had to feed Liara a typical dish from Earth, what would it be?

*corre dietro alle lasagne* Offro panettone in cambio! *apre un trench pieno di panettoni*

Oh LOL, Alyra's opinions are FUN.

Alyra on the other blorbos:

Raina: "Bat-shit crazy. A wild card. I don't know how is she even alive eating what she does. Useful, but an asset you can't direct. Perfect for Kirkwall. How is she alive eating how she does, tho. Note to self: never EVER accept an invitation to drink with her, the tavern she seems to favour is the one place you will catch your death by germs." Garrett: "Reliable, if you need the Hawkes, ask him and not his sister. Questionable humour, makes Alistair's seem refined. Not swayable if you touch his family. Jovial, friendly, potentially dangerous." Aisling: "Clever, very fit for politics, reliable as an ally. Do not ever admit that to her face, she'd be even more annoying than she is. Irritatingly unsure of herself and to have around. Good ally, dangerous as enemy, the People needs more like her. Morrigan likes her, so it's fine, can entrust her with them." After Trespasser: "Can't see why she disbanded the Inquisition and went stealth. Fucking Teagan ruined another good thing." Radha: "A grudgy spy. Never cross her if not to impart the killing blow. Good as an asset, too impredictable as an ally. Keep your cards to your chest when she's around." Max: "Reliable, good at her job, but I'll take that playlist and shove her where the sun doesn't shine."

Alyra on the crushes. But taken as a unit because it's more fun:

Raina+Merrill+Bela: "Merrill seems happy so it's fine, I'm glad she got away from fucking Merethari. Isabela? Good taste, nothing to say. Luckily Alistair told no to the threesome, it would have been awkward. Remember to thank him without explain exactly why lest he becomes annoying. The raccoon seems more manageable." Garrett+Fenris: "Do not cross one if you don't mean to cross both. Give money to Fenris to counter slavers, whatever he wants. The Blue Wraith? Suggest him a better name. Or a lack of one. Nothing to say, they're a fine couple, both good people." Aisling+Cullen: "Good for him to having got his head out of his ass. Sappy, horribly so. What could have been with Alistair. Finance their clinic, why not. But invites to dinner? Once in a while, too sappy otherwise." Max+Liara: "No, god, no. Good for each other I guess, do not approach. She's clever, reminds me of Merrill. Can tone the crazy engineering down. Why her cabinets sounds when she opens them? WHY. Run."

Liara's menu for Max, taken from the most renowned historical source on Italian cooking: GialloZafferano

Shrimps in pink sauce (Max likes rock music from the 80s. She searched a fish recipe from the 80s and that's what she found. Doesn't really understand why mixing mayo and ketchup is considered a think to do, but she won't question it, maybe it'll be another genius idea of Joey Tempest and she'd like to talk about other things this evening thank you.)

Gran Fritto Misto of fish, zucchini and zucchini flowers (of course, she has to conquer the girl.)

A very special place bought directly in Livorno Max won't shut up about and will be the piece de resistence and actually get the girl:

Caramelized figs crostata as a dessert.

Honestly this was an overkill, Max would have been conquered by a bottle of spuma alone. The expectations over her liking the cinque e cinque (it's a sandwich filled with a thin pie made from chickpea flour, a typical streetfood from Livorno) would be sky-high, but she will like it a lot, Max won't cry. They need to talk about her problem with spuma (a fizzy drink you only find in Tuscany. Much to my chagrin because it's so good and I'd like to drink some, right now), Max, honey, you have to drink water, not only fizzy drinks.

[sulky-valkyrie]

writing prompt: A plaque denoting the Hero of Ferelden’s birthplace

Happy Friday! for @dadrunkwriting

Anora wouldn’t shut up.  Wouldn't stop blathering on about Alistair this, Alistair that, like she hadn't been ready to throw him to the wolves just weeks ago.

Tabris sat straight-backed in her chair, dry-eyed and stone-faced.  These shem wouldn't see her cry.

When she finally wound down, the grand cleric nodded at two servants.  Elves, Ris noted bitterly.

"We send you to the Maker's side."  At her words, the pyre was lit.  They had to treat bodies with something to make them so . . .combustible.  Alistair's body caught instantly, and the smoke stung her eyes.

The rest of the mourners started filing out of the courtyard, but she stayed put, hoping the attendants would leave too, just so she could have a moment alone with him once more.

"Warden Tabris."  The queen was approaching.

She didn't move to stand.  Didn’t even flick an ear.  

Anora smiled thinly.  "I know you and my husband's brother were . . .close."

Fuck you.  Ris just nodded.  She might have power now, but it wouldn't last, even if she had put this bitch on the throne.  "And?"

"Is there anything he'd want?"

To be alive.  She shook her head.  "Nothing you can give."  It wasn't a politically savvy answer and she didn't care.

Anora sniffed delicately.  "I know what it's like to -"

"Go away, your majesty."  She pointedly turned back to the pyre.  Alistair was already ash and she'd never been able to say goodbye.

She didn't go away, but she did finally stop talking.  Ris ignored her as she watched the ash blow away.  Her eyes burned with tears, but she wouldn't cry.  Not in front of her of all people.

Only when the fire died down and the last few attendants started to sweep up what was left of him did she stand, still not acknowledging Anora.  The bitch followed her as she walked out.  "Warden, would you walk with me?"

She bit back the Do I have a choice? and just nodded again.

Ris followed her through the winding corridors of the palace.  Anora collected a few more guards as they continued out the front gates.  They headed toward the alienage.  Years of practice kept her face neutral, but nothing about this felt right.  What is she playing at?

The vhenadahl looked the same: sickly, but trying.  Just like the alienage itself.  Shianni was talking with Alarith nearby, and headed toward her as they approached.

"Your majesty," she said, nodding respectfully, before falling in next to Ris.  "I told them not to," she muttered, so softly only an elf could hear it.

Before Ris could ask what Shianni meant, Anora clapped her hands.  There was a sudden cacophony of trumpets, and only Shianni's hand on her elbow stopped Ris from drawing her blades and falling into a defensive crouch.

"We've gathered here to honor one of our own: an elf from Denerim, who saved us all!  The greatest elf since Garahel"  Anora'a voice was resplendent and insincere.  A politician's voice.  "She saved us from certain doom, stopped the Blight in barely a year!  How should we thank her?"

Leave me alone, Ris wanted to scream.  Wanted to, but didn't.  Not when confronted by all that fucking hope on the faces of the gathered onlookers.  This was what heroes did, she supposed.  Fought and died by inches, giving others a chance to keep going.  She didn't even recoil when Anora grabbed her hand and hoisted it to the sky.  "Behold, our Hero of Fereldan!"

The crowd cheered.

She held her tongue and smiled.  Anora nodded at her, like she could see through it, like she knew Ris was fantasizing about cutting her throat.  "We'll build you a statue later, but this is all we can do for the moment."  She let go of Ris' hand and pointed at the vhenadahl.

Ris followed her gesture with her eyes, despair turning into horror.

It was a gold plaque.  Nailed to the tree.

Birthplace of Kallian Tabris, Hero of Ferelden, 9:10.

They'd poisoned the only thing that mattered in the alienage to honor her.  Her gaze swung to Shianni, begging her mutely to tell her this wasn’t happening.  Her cousin only shrugged, then low under her breath, mumbled, "Fucking shem."

Fucking shem indeed.  To the void with appearances.  Ris fled.

[chounaifu]

HIGHLIGHT REEL

In honor of my one year long return to the RPC, I'm going to share my favorite RP/OOC memories across all of my blogs from the past 12 months, completely out of context. If you recognize all of them, you'll get a door prize or something idk.

"That's a stereotype, and you should look inward."

"Why are you in my room???" "WHY IS EVERYONE IN HER ROOM????"

Dank Herba

Storm Area Zero: They can't stop all of us

[Professor Sada Icon] Hit the Gritty Aldrés

Women Want Me: Veluza Fear Me

"I'm not building a STAR TRAIN."

"Here comes Larry McBozo the Tax Evasion Clown."

"YEAH I knew Jack-Homo would understand." "My name is GIACOMO."

"I am Giacomo and I'm not a vocaloid."

Giacomo becomes a vocaloid.

"Which one of you. Has Tupper Jesus???" "It's Rex"

"The reason Giovanni was never caught is because he spoke Italian and scared the cops."

The Gross Beat.

Kotone. . . . . . . . . . . Its me, Giacomo

Droopy Hello Kitty

Giacomo threatens to kill Ghetsis with a forklift. Ghetsis threatens to kill Giacomo for real.

[ Confetti, and cheering ] A Gun

The power of friendship kicks in [ Mabosstiff is flashbanged ]

Comfort character anon

"I hear they call you the silly little pizza man."

Alistair does a drive-by.

Mela becomes the Doomslayer.

"Proton, why are there BITE MARKS in the drywall????"

Ants in the coffee machine. :)

89 packs of ramen

KRANKENWAGEN

ᵉᵉᵉ

L + Ratio + your blue hair and pronouns

Proton's Knifeapalooza

9/10 venue, got shot here, would come back

"WE GET IT JAX, YOU HAVE A COMICALLY SIZED PENIS."

"I'M Ken, YOU'RE Barbie."

"Boss is going to watch the Barbie movie with me."

The American Psycho Team Rocket Speech

"NOOOOOO I'M FRENCH."

Gatorade should be thicker

"Get banana'd." -Proton is turned into a banana.-

Proton is then somehow smarter as a banana?????

Gold's Teddiursa waterboards Proton

Babygirl lost his arm

"What the Clefuck is going on here?"

That one time everyone stayed up until 1 am for some reason on the dash and we all swapped embarrassing life stories.

Plane, using the wrong tupper: Proton shut the fuck up

The Bad Parents Club

Proton spends $300 on plush toys for Ree

The Stardew Valley Launchshipping Saga

LusaMemes

Lysandre and Lusamine arguing like a divorced couple.

John and Lusamine arguing like a married couple.

FEESH PUNCH "Starmie knows psychic" NO FEESH PUNCH

"By the way, I am bisexual-- oh, wrong ask box."

"OH so you're homophobic now? Unbelievable."

Take THAT A E T H I E S T S.

"Padawan Anakin is why I hate men."

They/thems will tell you "I know a place" and then take you to the end of the map.

"Thanks for taking me to the abyss I guess."

[green-ray-blog1]

The Prince

It's 1-1, now, between Harrowmont and Bhelen and hardcore supporters of both are now jumping Darrian and his party in the streets of Orzammar. For his next errand, Harrowmont wants Branka found. Oh, right, the paragon who invented smokeless coal (which sounds straight up magical), then took her house to the Deep Roads, and didn’t come back. Well, if Darrian found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, he can probably find Branka, or what’s left of her. But now, Bhelen wants to talk face to face, since we did his dirty work, and oh he is one slimy bastard. It's like he can’t even be bothered to put up appearances. And that’s the guy who’s gonna help the casteless ? He wants Branka found, too, but he only wants her back if she supports him. The guy definitely murdered his dad. Well Darrian’s not doing the killing political opponents (wait, did the Carta count ?), so he’ll improvise when he’ll get there, and, again, Branka might be dead already.

First, though, Alistair and Wynne apparently have a lot to ask Morrigan about her love life. Several things : First, Darrian is right there, so it’s a bit hurtful when you guys are talking like he’s just Morrigan’s thrall, now. Second, looks like neither of you have seen how much of a dork she is, and thus how funny that makes you sound. Now, to be fair, Darrian did agree to kill Flemeth for Morrigan, and it is possible she might have been lying about the whole body-jacking thing, but honestly, it’d be a really good act. Ah, whatever, you know what, this is fine, it’s all part of the plan. See, when Darrian has retired in the Korcari wilds, and he goes grocery shopping in nearby villages, there’s bound to be some dumbass shems that’ll be all like “Hey fuck you knife-ears !”, but then their buddy will be like “Dude, shut up, that’s the Wicked Witch of the Wild’s boyfriend ! You wanna get turned into a spider ?” It's perfect.

Then we meet Oghren, Branka’s husband, left behind when she took the rest of the house. He really wants to come along and, uh, well, sure. He seems pretty on edge about the whole thing, which is fair. Shale is also here. Their mage had mentioned finding them in a place related to dwarves, so maybe we’ll see something interesting. Now, it’s off to the Deep Roads

***Bonus content!!!***

Hi my name is Darrian Tabris and I have short black hair and pointy ears and a lot of people tell me I look like Shianni (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Zevran, but I wish I was cause he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a grey warden, but that’s just until the Blight is over. I’m also a rogue and I got Isabela to teach me how to duel. I’m an elf (in case you couldn’t tell), and I wear mostly light armor. I love Wade’s Emporium and I buy all my clothes from there. For example, today, I was wearing the felon’s coat. I was walking outside the Alienage. It was like everywhere in Ferelden, smelling like wet dog, which I was very happy about. A lot of city guards stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

[vigilskeep]

i admit i’m very curious about minerva and broken circle, like who did she bring with her and what did she think on their comments during the quest? did she spare that one blood mage? why or why not? my surana doesn’t personally, even though they’re a blood mage themself, just because they don’t think the blood mage will be able to get out and doesn’t want to risk the templars finding a blood mage among the mages labeled safe and have them go “oh well better annul them then”. was her fade dream the default with duncan or a more personalized one? reaction to the knowledge that irving was baiting apprentices and is the cause of jowan’s whole thing? opinions on the cullen issue? sorry broken circle is just

omg of course broken circle my beloved

minerva brought zev and morri through the tower. she actually brings alistair into the tower but he has that like lightly toned ambient line as you go in that’s like “as i recall shutting the door and throwing away the key was definitely the templar plan b.” which from minerva’s perspective is like, okay well, i just found out everyone i know including the children and my dad have been locked in and left for dead, so maybe shut the fuck up and save the joking around abt it for somebody else. like i think she’s actually mad at him there and the bit where you have to switch a party member out for wynne is her straight up telling him to get out which is a conversation i’d LOVE to write on. probably v startling for alistair, who has likely never even seen her that upfront angry before except maybe to jowan; she’s usually so diplomatic and controlled and she and alistair are such close friends by then that it would be a Lot. but anyway ya wynne zev and morri! not an ideally balanced team w three mages and a rogue lmao which i think shows how upset minerva was. morri is interesting because on a persuade check you CAN actually get through to her by saying these mages might have been her. morri’s opinions on circle mages endlessly fascinating as ever

minerva did spare the blood mage, yes. this is the stage of her playthrough where we’re directly inbetween telling jowan she never wants to see him again and becoming a blood mage herself, so i think that’s a good beat to show her coming around to the idea

if i am hugely hugely self-indulgent, i love love love to exaggerate the fade sequences and expand on them, so i have a bunch of different concepts for dreams you might try to trap minerva in. that’s so fun to explore and i think that would be more interesting and cohesive in a narrative than trying to actually write through the whole lost in the fade quest. i would love to do obvious hits like, she never got taken from the alienage, she and jowan and lily somehow all made it out of the circle, halliserre’s not tranquil and she’s free to be with them in public, she saved ferelden and now the circles are free bc everyone trusts her so so much and thinks she’s the bestest ever, etc. but i’d also love to try slightly wilder ones she absolutely doesn’t consciously think she wants like: what if she could get her magic taken away or even agree to tranquillity. what if her family had never left tevinter and she was a magister’s student. what if she was dalish! what if she were a blood mage haha that would be crazy right... right? i would love to try my hand at writing all of those and pick a few favourites to make “canon”

reaction to irving baiting apprentices... i think minerva kind of always knew deep down. she and irving were so close and so alike. like it’s a betrayal, but also, of course he would. if it didn’t apply to jowan, if it hadn’t been for all her experiences since leaving the circle, would the person she was back then have even questioned it? she understands irving and even if she becomes more critical of him and her old self she’ll never be able to really condemn him

as for cullen... minerva never thought much abt him in the circle. his attention was unsettling in her position especially with his role in her harrowing but he seemed harmless enough and she was confident in her ability to handle it and that if worst came to worst she could always go to irving abt it. the broken circle encounter makes it scarier in retrospect because she didn’t realise it was such an obsession or that he could be pushed to such extremes. she’s deeply uncomfortable with the whole thing and it’s one of the things that makes broken circle such a marked change in her perspective where ultimately she will never be able to consider any mage safe in the circle even the ones like her who “do everything right”. she would avoid ever talking to him again if she could and it would make her incredibly unnerved by the inquisition regardless of its other figureheads and policies

the visuals of minerva’s return are very compelling i would love to have had the demon taking minerva’s form to appear but as the fragile circle mage w long flowing hair and delicate robes and then for the real minerva to show up bloodstreaked in full armour. chefs kiss

[the-broken-pen]

Romance Snippets

The only romance I’m capable of writing, it seems, is the off brand flavor. Like store brand cheerios. Slightly unsettling. Obsessive and unrequited love. These two are not an end game ship I swear to god if any of you ship them I’m gonna lose it. He’s problematic in an unhot way. Anywho, thank you @imaginativemind29new for the tag!

His hand gripped hers, and before she could grab for a knife, he had slammed her into the opal throne so hard her thighs groaned in protest.

“You want force?” He kept one hand clenched around her wrist, and materialized a crown out of the air. He set it on top of her head, and it was warm through her hair. “Is this enough for you?”

She sat, stunned, before she attempted to rise.

“What are you doing—” she had barely lifted off the seat before he pushed her back down.

“You wish to wield your titles like a dictator? Then I should make you one. Would that please that aching and ravenous part of you that dreams of my death?”

“You know it wouldn’t.”

“Because you hate me,” he mused, “or because you don’t want to be powerful?”

She sneered at him.

“I would rather die than rule beside you.”

He hummed.

“Oh, Violent thing, I know. But I think you would love the power of corruption—such strength, total control over hundreds? You would go hungry for it.”

“Then you’re just as stupid and desperate as I thought you were.”

Riven laughed, and Clarke snapped his head to Riven. A moment later, he turned back, face drawn.

“Of all the choices and paths to take, you made a deal with a demon for power,” he said lowly. “How desperate does that make you?”

Her heart clenched.

“Shut up.”

“I bet you told yourself it was to save your cousin, poor, precious, broken Viridian.” He leaned close enough for his breath to tickle her ear, and she stonily looked ahead, refusing to glance at him. “It was really because you were tired of being nothing, wasn’t it?”

Time ground to a painful stop, and she slammed her fist into his face.

His hand flew to his nose and when it came away bloody, he laughed.

“God, Violent Thing, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

“I hate you,” she snapped, and he simply laughed more, a smile gracing his face.

When he lowered his hand fully, she found his face filled with fascination—as if he really did find her beautiful.

Her stomach clenched, and she fought off a wave of nausea.

“You could be my queen,” he offered, blood splattering from his nose onto the floor.

She stared at him, stunned, then said numbly, “Of what? Your manic attempt at power?”

He grinned, and it was half bloody.

"The world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then we have these fluffy ones—

“I was fine, as always. Who do you think sounded the alarm?” she asked sarcastically, and she waited for him to laugh. Instead, when she glanced at his face, she only saw concern, mixed with an emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Lucy looked away.

“There’s a fog front rolling in. Reeks of magic,” Lucy said, just to put something between her and the look on Malcolm’s face. He sniffed, like he would be able to smell it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Getting to you, darling?”

Lucy grit her teeth, wincing against Alistair's tightening palms.

“I don’t want to fuck you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The siren tipped their head, entirely to sensual for a motion so simple.

“Oh, such a crude, human word. I could be so gentle. So sweet, so lovely, so wonderful—” something on Lucy’s face stopped them, and that effervescently beautiful smile dropped from their face like a rock. “This doesn’t effect you at all, does it.”

Calculating. So, so calculating, their gaze. Lucy knew that look. She wore it often enough.

Lucy half shrugged a shoulder. “You’re pretty, but you’re no god.”

And for the tags! @jay-avian @ettawritesnstudies @jtl-fics

And of course, it’s open to anyone who wants to play ❤️

[orreanintrepidness]

"And that was our paid segment from the Orrean Aether Foundation. Preparing for a better tomorrow, today!

Now, onto today's-"

The newscaster's words were suddenly cut off, and she peered over to her side, someone was showing her something. Words on a whiteboard or the like, and whatever she saw drew out a roll of the eyes, before she deigned to go on speaking...

She'd assumed it was yet another of Alistair's regular, unnecessary interruptions, and in a way, she wasn't entirely wrong, though perhaps this one was a tad more necessary than most others. But it wasn't like she could exactly refuse anyway, that never would work. He'd have just walked in, had her carted off, and given his announcement anyway.

"We have an 'important' interruption from Orre's leadership, and it- What? What do you mean he's here? Yes we're on air, god, can you not-"

And just like that, something smack the camera down, something big, and the camera was just pointed at the floor for a solid ten or so seconds with the audio cut off before suddenly jerking back up and the audio being restored, the newscaster having disappeared, and having been replaced in her seat by Alistair himself.

"Hey nifty Orre, it's me, your President John Hen--"

He didn't even continue that line, it drew out far, far too much of a cackle from him to do so, anyone would have thought it was some peak of comedy with how he reacted, but that was down to personal interpretation.

"God I can't even- I can't say that the unovans will cry about it again. Eh fuck 'em. Regardless. I'm not goin' to introduce myself, you know who I am. And if you don't? What the fuck are you doing in Orre and hurry up and get the fuck out."

There was a pause, a brief shuffle, Alistair finally straightened himself out at last. That took far too long, far far too long.

"Now, onto what is actually of importance...

Going into this, I want to state, very clearly, that any interference from interpol, the 'major' regions, or anyone for that matter, will not be met kindly whatsoever. No, it will be met with the full force at my disposal and without any regret or remorse whatsoever.

As of precisely two hours ago, an agreement between the following regions has been ratified: Orre, Fiore, Almia and Oblivia. Observers of this agreement include: Orre, Fiore, Almia, Oblivia, Ferrum, Lental, Pasio even though they didn't bother to show up, and Alto Mare. Finally, the region of Ransei will be given a specific protected status due to the nature of their local situation and technological and cultural differences. They are in no way tied to this, but any attempt from other regions involving them will be met with Orrean responses.

The ratifiers of this agreement will henceforth become the basis of the formation of one greater federation of 'minor' regions. All those observing excluding Pasio are to have observer status and thus gain partial benefit from the federation but are not absorbed into the primary entity so to speak.

As such, Fiore, Almia and Oblivia are to be treated as though they are Orrean, and such a thing means that certain laws... Namely the ones concerning interpol, will be observed. And before some fool has the stones to claim anyone has been strongarmed, no, no such thing has occurred. The local governments will be retained, though said governments then in turn answer to myself, as the head of the Orrean, capital section of the federation.

Instead of trying to point to Orrean strongarming, perhaps look at your own regions, perhaps if in the past the 'major' regions had acted to support those smaller ones, then maybe things such as this would have never come to be. And regardless...

You don't exactly get a say in what we do."

And with that. He finally shut up for perhaps a second, maybe two at best. Alistair never was able to keep his mouth shut even at the best of times.

"And now, I can finally, after all this time present to Orre, no, the world, a completed, fully rebuilt from the ground up, New Blackthorne. The old city of Phenac was old, it was tired, it was rotten to the core. But from the disgusting thing that once was, Orre, alongside the Aether Foundation, have created something new, something that will stand above Castelia, something that will topple Wyndon and crush Lumiose. At last, Orre has a real city of her own, just like it once did in the past, before incompetents in the past allowed all that was to collapse in on itself at the whim of outsiders, who sought only to take from the region!"

All the while Alistair spoke, the newsfeed shifted over to footage of the new city, it wasn't a lie, the old adobe buildings of Phenac were all gone. Every last one except the colosseum. Now the place they once occupied was filled with much larger, clearly Aether designed buildings, with only one key difference. The signature white and gold of Aether was replaced, replaced with the black and gold of Aether's new, Orrean branch. The branch that answered to Alistair, and then Alistair to Lusamine. Even the old walls were barely there, a few scant remains just to show what once was, the city had grown beyond them, and they were mostly destroyed during the Phenac rising anyway.

"Truly, this is proof that our partnership with Aether is as fruitful as was promised. Proof that no, all the cries against it that thankfully fell upon deafened ears were wrong. But quite frankly, this desk, this chair, they're uncomfortable as all hell, and I don't particularly feel like sitting here anymore. As such...

I bid you all, farewell, adieu, auf weidersehen, Sayōnara, or however you wish to say goodbye. That is all."

And with that, the news feed finally shut off for good. At least, until the next time that the regularly scheduled news would air.

[junkyardromeo]

little neon angels scene, circa 1990

My head is spinning already. It’s nine at night, and I’ve been daydrinking, and we’re due at a party at the Tuff Mansion later. Well, they call it a mansion but really it’s a shitty fuckin’ apartment, worse than ours.

“These make me look fat,” Ryan says, crossing his arms and glaring at the mirror. He’s wrapped up in a brand new pair of Lip Service pants, the sexy as fuck PVC ones with the buckles all up and down the legs.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, they look hot.” I smack his ass. He turns and gives me a look that’s half sexy and half terrifying. I’m gonna pay for this later, that’s for damn sure, but I’ll worry about it when the time comes.

“Wear those shorts I like,” Ryan says. His tone says it’s not optional, even though it’s kind of cold out.

“Dude, has anyone seen my boots?” Alistair is tearing the room apart looking for his shoes, and Tripp must be in the shower because it feels humid in here. Alice opens a window.

An hour later, we’re stumbling out the door. The cold seems unimportant now that I’ve got half a bottle of Jack in me. I’m carrying it with me as we trek down the Strip, determined to finish the bottle by the time we get there. Fuck sobriety. I can’t deal with people sober.

Ryan’s hand is in the back pocket of my cut-offs, which I’ve paired with cowboy boots and a fishnet top.

“You look like a slut,” he says.

“So do you,” I say, giggling. He does! Those fuckin’ pants are gonna be the death of me!

“Look around, you ain’t alone,” Tripp says. Somehow, he’s already collected a blonde girl who’s hanging off his arm and making eyes at him. Alice looks severely disinterested in everything, per usual, and Ryan looks dangerous, per usual.

“Let’s catch a ride,” I say. “I’m not walking all the fuckin’ way to North Hollywood.” Which is reasonable! North Hollywood is a fuckin’ hike, and we have friends who have cars. There is no fuckin’ reason to walk all that way. We know everyone, and someone’s bound to come rolling by.

And they do.

We pile into the backseat of Roxy DeVeaux’s convertible (daddy’s money) and arrive to the Tuff Muff Mansion in style. It’s already out of control—as we’re walking up, some guy falls backwards over the railing and lands at Alice’s feet.

“Hi, Paul!” Tripp says.

“Heeeyyy!” Paul drunkenly replies. He staggers to his feet and immediately pukes in the hedge. We make our way inside, and soon, everyone’s gone their own separate way. The party is in full swing.

Fuck yeah.

I left my empty bottle of Jack in Roxy’s car, so it’s definitely time to find another drink. I don’t have to look far before a girl is handing me a beer and feeling me up. She’s pretty and her tits are nice, and based on the way she’s looking at me, she’s easy. I grab her ass and pull her against me, liking her perfume and the way her tits press against my chest. She’s soft in a way men aren’t, sweet in a way men aren’t.

“What’s your name?” she asks as I slip my hand up her shirt.

“Lani.” I don’t bother asking for hers. It’s not like I would remember anyways.

“You wanna-”

“Yeah.” I unzip my shorts, push her skirt up, and pick her up against the wall. She’s faking the moans but I don’t particularly care. She’s hot and ready and that’s all I need; girls like her are a dime a dozen in Hollywood. In this room. In my life. All I am to her is a pretty face, just like all she is to me is someone to fuck. Round and round. All we fuckin’ do is use each other—for money, for sex, for drugs, for fame.

I come first. I’m not gonna leave a girl wanting, though, so I get on my knees and look up at her.

“You can hold me down, pull my hair, whatever,” I say. “Anything goes.”

***

It’s almost four by the time Ryan grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom. The sink is disgusting, stained from Michael’s hair dye and crusty with cigarette ash and god knows what else, and there’s what appears to be blood smeared on one wall.

“Jesus,” I mumble. Ryan’s hands are rough and hot on my skin as he yanks my shorts down and I feel kind of sick. Drunk. My reflection stares back at me, all smudged, fucked up makeup and ratty hair, red cheeks, swollen lips. God, I look like a cheap whore. Ryan seems to like it. He smacks my ass, hard, laughing a little when I gasp.

“You deserve that,” he says. “You deserve worse than that, but I’m feeling nice tonight. Bend over.”

It bothers me a little how much shit like this gets me off. He’s a fuckin’ sadistic motherfucker, a mean little sonofabitch. Fuck, I love him.

He fucks me hard over the sink, one hand in my hair and one gripping my hip. There’s gonna be bruises tomorrow for sure. I like watching us in the mirror—me, fucked out and desperate; him, fucked up and desperate. We’re a match made in…well, not heaven.

I come first, and he keeps fucking me. He twists one of my nipple rings, then the other, then my knees give out. Everything burns and he keeps fucking me, hard and rough, and I feel my head spinning before everything goes dark.

***

I wake up nauseous, with a pounding headache, crusty eyes, and no clue where I am. Someone’s greasy fuckin’ hair is in my mouth.

“Get off,” I rasp, shoving the dead weight off my chest. It turns out that it was Ryan’s hair in my mouth, and I’ve just shoved him off the bed and onto the floor. Well, if you call the mattress in the corner of our apartment a bed. Technically, Tripp’s apartment. Which means that we made it home last night, even though I remember exactly nothing about what went down.

Fuckin’ typical.

Ryan groans loudly, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“Feellikeshit,” he mumbles.

“Yeah.” I drag my sorry ass to the bathroom just in time for whatever I drank last night to make itself known again, and splash some water on my face. I don’t look so good. I need to shave and I look like I haven’t slept in weeks, but some makeup and a beer should fix it.

“Come back,” Ryan whines. “No good morning kiss?”

“I just blew chunks, babe. Don’t think you’re interested.” I mess with my hair until it looks halfway decent, then venture back to the living room to look for something to wear. I still have on my shorts from last night, but have somehow lost my shirt and one of my socks. Fuckin’ typical. I can’t keep up with socks for shit.

“My mouth already tastes like…like, stale cologne or something,” Ryan says, sitting up and rubbing his face. “It’s fine.”

I lean down and kiss the tip of his nose.

“Where you going?”

“Corner store,” I reply. “I’m out of cigarettes.” Which is only partly true. I think I have a pack somewhere but I’m too lazy to look for it, and the weather looks nice. A walk down the street won’t kill me (probably.)

He groans again and stretches, reminiscent of a cat. Or something. His eyes are all dark with smeared makeup and he’s got a fuckin’ vicious bite mark on his jaw—did I do that? He’s wearing leather pants. Fucking christ, dude, leather pants. He slept in ‘em! Even I can’t sleep in leather!

“Come with?” I ask.

“Fuck, why not?” He stands unsteadily and picks up a shirt off the floor. I think it belongs to Alistair. He will mind. That’s a problem for later. I dig two pairs of dark mirrored sunglasses out of the mess and sit one pair on his face. He looks like a wreck, but it’s a pretty wreck.

[blind-alchemists]

i'm still a bit mad da:o is Actually Good because i vividly remember how i reacted to that broodmother scene when i saw it in a let's play years ago and i really don't look forward to playing it myself

anyway, some revelations from by playthrough so far:

actually not mad i broke my rule of "first playthrough is a female dw rogue" for this because it's fun

but: This Game Is Bugged

i love the variety in the entropy tree

mages are as op as they say, to the point where i have essentially solo'd entire enemy groups (incl. that surprise revenant and the desire demon with the charmed templars in the Broken Circle)

... after i got damaging spells. yeah, you need damaging spells. and you need healing spells.

the origins are really cool. i see why people want them back.

i also understand why people want a mabari. the dog's hilarious.

Morrigan. i love her.

she's so mean but she also tells you the first time you're in camp that she doesn't understand a lot of social rules, cues, or traditions, much less is able to keep up with human society and finds it overwhelming. plus she was raised by Flemeth/Mythal, the worst mother figure in all of history.

so why's her romance male-only? and why does it always have to be a rare ship i fall for? :(

tbh i would have loved an option for a mage!Warden to shut down Morrigan at the Broken Circle (along the lines, "I was also a mage of this Circle, and they do not deserve your scorn because they never had a choice - because I never had a choice") without either killing Wynne or being mean to Morrigan :(

Morrigan has an incredibly funny camp-conversation with the dog about how he put a half-eaten hare into her (clean) underwear and when the warden says, "you hurt his feelings," she says something like, "no, i didn't. look, he's just manipulating you. i can tell because i do the same thing!"

Sten's also incredibly funny for the same reason that Morrigan is: Leliana is very well adjusted to society, and Alistair can at least read social cues and has some emotional intelligence, and then you have two people who know fuck all about any of that

i'm kinda neutral about both Leliana and Alistair, and Sten's alright i guess, so i'm really hoping Zevran and Shale are interesting to me. Oghren's ... gotta wait until i have done literally anything but Orzammar.

[rosella-writes]

Happy Fridaaaay! For DADWC: "First one to make a noise loses" for either Alistair/Zevran or another pairing if you like it better? :D

Thank you so much Gin 🥰 this one got smutty lol.

For @dadrunkwriting Pairing: Zevistair Rating: E Warnings: consensual breath play

~~~

A game, he’d called it. 

It’ll be fun, he said. 

You like trying new things, he insisted. 

Alistair desperately tried to remember all this and more as he squinted through tears at the glow of the firelight through the tent wall. Zevran’s fingers were hooked in his hair — they pulled his head back almost to its limit, baring his throat and almost cutting off the breath that would’ve made noise. 

Noise that wasn’t allowed. 

He wanted to. Maker, he wanted to. He wanted to moan until Zevran shut him up. He wanted to breathe out ragged sighs for every one of the deep thrusts into his body. When Zevran held him — his hand slid now from his hair to cup his throat — with fingers digging into his waist like this, even fear of lightning couldn’t strike him now. The niggling voice of the Chantry sisters faded to nothing. 

Alistair figured they hadn’t anticipated him to engage in this particular type of debauchery, but that was neither here nor there. 

He tried to focus again. Why wasn’t he supposed to make a sound? It wasn’t like their camp members hadn’t heard them at this before. His mind half-floated, giddy on the lack of breath as Zevran’s grip tightened. But then Zevran’s fingers in the meat of his side twitched, and Alistair remembered. 

A challenge, amore. You, me, competition. The first to make a sound loses.

And what do I get when I win?

Why, you wake up to a mouth on your cock, of course.

And you make breakfast. 

For you, caro, I will. But only if you win. 

Alistair was no longer so sure he wanted to win, all things considered. Granted, the things considered were Zevran’s hands, Zevran’s cock, Zevran’s scent and presence and the soft little sigh he made just now when —

“Fuck,” Zevran spat, bending over Alistair’s back with a sudden jolt of his hips. Alistair leaned back against him, breathing deeply past Zevran’s loosening grip on his throat — Zevran’s breath brushed his ear, then his lips, then his teeth. “My lovely warden, how good you feel.”

Alistair finally allowed himself a pathetic, reedy little moan that ended in a whimpered, “Andraste’s tits.”

Zevran rolled his hips forward in an indulgent, slow slide — hot wetness slid down Alistair’s thigh. Finally, Zevran’s clever assassin’s fingers crept from where they dug into Alistair’s side and grasped his cock instead. 

“I had no hope of winning, caro,” Zevran murmured in his ear, his voice flatteringly rough. “Not when you were doing so well, and deserved to hear it said. And… and — cazzo, tesoro —”

Alistair had something smart, something ridiculous, on the tip of his tongue, but Zevran’s hand wrung it from him with stroke after stroke. Zevran’s free hand slid back up to Alistair’s throat, but cupped it gently this time — he just held him, slipped out of him and held him back against his body as they knelt on bedrolls over lumpy ground. Alistair couldn’t say a word, not until he came with a jerk into Zevran’s palm — even then, it was a hissed “Maker” through clenched teeth. 

Zevran kept going, indulgently palming him with the wetness of Alistair’s own spend until he almost begged him to stop. Even then, Zevran didn’t let him go. Alistair just slumped back into his lap, supported by luck and Zevran’s arms around him. 

Zevran slowly, treasuringly, gently mouthed a chaste chain of kisses from Alistair’s ear to the crook of his neck, then nuzzled his nose into the warmth there. Alistair almost held his breath — he knew how rare such moments had been for the assassin in the past, and how dangerous those few had been. He wanted this one to be safe. 

“I lost on purpose, you should know,” Zevran said suddenly, his usually silky voice still roughened up from emotion or sex or both. “Can’t have you making breakfast in the morning, dear Warden. Morrigan would kill us both.”

Alistair huffed out a tired, disbelieving laugh. “Sure it’s… not because you wanted to… you know. That?”

“Suck your cock to wake you?” Zevran said. Alistair could feel his smile against his neck. “You can say it, you know. No lightning will strike you.”

“No lightning will strike me,” Alistair repeated. “What a relief. You should rehabilitate chantry-trained rabble more often! You know exactly what to say.”

“You are unbearable.”

Alistair laughed properly this time, then turned with a grunt and unceremoniously grasped Zevran’s face. He kissed him soundly, until the assassin whimpered soundlessly into his mouth.