#so as a dragon age day treat i gave myself the day to just write

[partystoragechest]

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

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

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,620. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: brief mention of murder/decapitation, very close to the end.)

Chapter 24: The Banquet - Part 1

Trevelyan’s dress was not plum.

Her plum dress, sent oh-so-specially by her mother, was currently indisposed.

‘Indisposed’ here meant that it was, at this moment, being washed—quite thoroughly—by the laundresses. Because after it had been pressed and prepared yesterday, it had gone mysteriously absent—only to be discovered hours later, by Trevelyan herself, stuffed inside a sack of sugar.

And so, while the Baroness wore a sleek golden gown, and Lady Erridge one of ruffled green gossamer, and the Lady Samient an outfit of breeches and doublet—black, with striking red panels—Trevelyan wore simply her silk shift, and burgundy surcoat.

“You’re sure you saw her?” Lady Samient questioned, as Trevelyan recounted what had led to this. It was certainly one way to pass the time, whilst they waited to enter the Great Hall.

“It was her,” Trevelyan confirmed, “that Sera.”

Because whilst scouring for the dress her ladies’ maids had failed to find, Trevelyan had seen someone. Certainly, it was dark, and they were dressed like any other servant—but she swore, in that glimpse, she recognised her. Sera.

“You ought to report it!” said Lady Erridge, who had strangely been the most furious about the matter—even more so than Trevelyan. “Tell Lady Montilyet!”

“No,” said Trevelyan. “If this is her response to one act of disclosure, then I should hate to find out the consequences of a second.”

Because it all fit too well, the idea of Trevelyan having told about the swapped sugar and salt being met with a dress covered in a such a substance, hours before it was due to be worn.

Besides, the only injured party was Trevelyan herself, rather than the dozens it would have been for the salt and sugar swapping. The laundresses did have some extra work now, but they were happy to do it, by way of apology for letting the dress out of sight in the first place.

“That is for the best,” the Baroness said. “You shall not stoop to her level. Play with the mabari, and you shall win only fleas.”

Trevelyan was suddenly quite grateful Sera had not resorted to covering her dress in fleas. But there was little time to think of that:

“Presenting Baroness Touledy of Val Misrenne; Lady Samient, daughter of Duke Samient; Lady Erridge of West Coldon; and Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick!”

The crier’s call was their cue to enter. One last look of understanding passed between the Ladies. No matter how it had started, they would enjoy the rest of tonight.

The door opened, they entered. The frown was wiped from Trevelyan’s face, and replaced with awe.

It seemed not only they knew how to dress for an occasion—the Great Hall had been decorated to perfection, under the guiding wisdom of Lady Montilyet.

Every other candle had been left unlit, resulting in an ambient warmth like a campfire’s glow. Tapestries and banners were of a rustic weave; mounted game became focal points of the scenery. This grand space, which had once played the role of an opulent ballroom, now transformed, to an intimate country manor.

The guestlist reflected such intimacy. Only thirty attended—including the Ladies themselves—which the Great Hall made seem an even smaller number, with its size. Their gazes felt as intimidating as a hundred, however, as they applauded the Ladies’ entrance.

Trevelyan cast her eyes across this congregation in turn, seeking faces she recognised; the anchors of safety she would cling to.

Naturally, it was Dorian she saw first. He sported a black tunic, laden with gold embroidery, and stood beside the Inquisition’s flame-haired Spymaster, who wore a contrasting blue gown. It was so tight to her body, Trevelyan wondered how she concealed the doubtless many weapons she had hidden within.

Varric, meanwhile, wore half a very nice shirt, and was entertaining a few fans. Lady Montilyet glided on by, ever the consummate professional. Her dress was of a muted blue-grey, that almost blended with the stone—intentionally so, most likely. She would not outshine her guests.

And that was all Trevelyan recognised, having done dreadfully little mingling in these sorts of circles (and more in the mage kind of Circles).

Apart from, of course, the Commander. She spied him standing awkwardly, as was his wont, beside a chattering noble (whom he appeared to pay little attention to, as was his wont).

It was the first Trevelyan had seen him in a day. Lady Erridge had told her, of course, that his stubble had grown, but it appeared he must have trimmed it back since then, for he looked delightfully like his normal self.

Not so pale, not so weak. Normal.

Good, even, for he was finely dressed. He wore a sort of doublet, sleeveless, to expose the arms of the fine shirt beneath. Odd, though. Trevelyan struggled to find any other word to describe the colour of this waistcoat than… plum.

How fortunate that Sera had played her prank, then. Trevelyan chuckled to think of what might have happened, had she attended wearing that dress her mother had sent. They’d have matched! How embarrassing it would have been. She’d have to thank Sera for the favour.

If only she could have tricked the Commander instead, into staying away somehow. For as well as he looked, Trevelyan still did not think it best for him to be in attendance. More and more, she was drawn to the suspicion that the person he treated with most contempt, was himself.

“Lady Trevelyan,” the Baroness said, stealing her attention away, “look over there.”

She nodded towards a small group of nobles—clearly Orlesian, going by the elaborate fashion—and indicated in particular a woman in a mask of turquoise, and a ballgown of silver. With pale yellow lace? Definitely Orlesian.

“That, is Comtesse Bervard.”

Ah.

Trevelyan had been told much of the Comtesse before their arrival. Like how one might learn all the types of wild animal that stalked a road, before travelling down it. And just as that information might make one terrified to leave their home, so did the Ladies’ warnings of Bervard make Trevelyan nervous now.

The Comtesse, she had been told, was a skilled player of the Great Game. Translated, that meant that she was callous, quick, used others for her own entertainment, and gossiped more than the Randy Dowager. Anyone who didn’t like it, would have a nice little visit from a bard.

“Why invite her?” Trevelyan wondered, very, very quietly.

“Because should this banquet be a success, all of the Heartlands shall hear of it within a week,” Touledy explained. “Everyone has their uses, your Ladyship. Though, to that point: do not say anything to her you do not wish the entirety of Thedas to know.”

Lady Samient smirked. “Do not say anything to her at all,” she corrected.

Trevelyan nodded. Like a bear, then. Do not look at it. Do not get close. Do not make eye contact. And if it sees you, pray.

Gladly, however, chamberlains arrived to lead them away from the Comtesse Bervard, and towards their seats.

The banquet was to take place across two long tables, that flanked the Great Hall’s central walkway—and like the Hall, they had been decorated with care. Evergreen wreaths made up the centrepieces. Ripe red fruits—possibly candied—nestled betwixt them. Pewter dishes lined the edges; precisely-laid cutlery surrounded them. Rustic enough for Fereldans and Marchers, quaint enough for Orlesians. Montilyet was good.

To her relief, Trevelyan and the Ladies were escorted together, to the leftmost table. However, upon their arrival, their respective chamberlains split apart, and they were each seated two or so spaces away from the others. So, perhaps Montilyet wasn’t that good.

At least Trevelyan was placed at the end of the table, her back to the garden door. In case of emergency, she could make a run for it.

But she would at least wait to see who sat beside her, first. A chamberlain pulled out the neighbouring chair, with a scrape so quiet it was barely a ‘scra’. Still, the movement caught Trevelyan’s eye, and she watched as a devastatingly handsome, incredibly clever man, took his seat.

“Dorian?” she said, quite gladly. “I see you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he lied, already reaching for his glass. “Reminds me of home.”

Oh, she quite understood that. “Well, it’s lucky we’re sat together, at least.”

“Luck...” Dorian muttered, “or a direct request.”

“Ha! I’m flattered.”

“As you should be.”

Trevelyan smiled and left him to his drink, giving her attention instead to the arrival of further guests. A couple of Banns, one Arl, some Baron. And of course, the Commander.

Where he sat, and indeed, where all of the guests at this particular table sat, though tedious to describe, would be important for events to come. Therefore:

Lady Samient was to the far left of Trevelyan, at what might be considered as the ‘top’ of the table. Two places down from her, was the Baroness Touledy; and near-opposite Touledy, was the Commander.

Two places down from Touledy sat Dorian. Opposite him was Lady Erridge, and next to Lady Erridge, there was an empty chair.

The empty chair was to be surprisingly important, in the farce that followed. And it started with Baroness Touledy.

“Lady Trevelyan?” she called. “May I exchange seats with you? I need more space, for my leg and cane to rest.”

Though reluctant to abandon Dorian after he had so specifically sat with her, Trevelyan would not leave a friend in pain. And she was at least confident that he would not find the Baroness a dissatisfactory conversational partner.

“Of course,” she said, rising from her chair.

Dorian sighed. “Well, that lasted.”

Trevelyan laughed and walked away, passing a grateful Baroness on her journey. Now seated more centrally, she took in the new landscape of faces around her. Most notably, the Commander’s, right in front of her.

She gave him a little smile. He reciprocated, and began to ask, “Lady Trevelyan, are you—?”

“Commander,” came Lady Montilyet’s hurried voice. She appeared behind him, and leant down to whisper something Trevelyan fully intended to hear: “The Marquis du Vert refuses to sit next to Bann Royton. Would you be able to sit in his place?”

There was a barely-contained look of exasperation on the Commander’s face. But nevertheless, he rose, nodding once to Trevelyan as he did so, and went to the empty chair beside Lady Erridge.

She seemed quite startled by this. Quite startled indeed.

“Lady Trevelyan!” she called down the table. “Would you switch places with me? I cannot speak to Lady Samient from here.”

Trevelyan considered it for a moment. A long moment. But dutifully, she nodded, and got up from her seat.

“Thank you,” said the giddy Lady Erridge, as they passed each other by. Trevelyan smiled, and went to her new seat.

Quite by coincidence, she was now sat shoulder-to-shoulder with the Commander. She looked to him, with a smile and a shrug, and a little laugh that escaped her mouth. He managed a smile in return.

“Are you well?” he asked, seemingly retaining some of that shyness from their previous encounter.

“I am,” she told him. “Are you?”

He nodded, and let the thread of the conversation dangle there. It was like talking to him for the first time, again. But Trevelyan was practiced in this by now:

“That is a nice waistcoat,” she said, indicating the plum doublet.

“Ah—er, yes. Lady Montilyet chose it—or, rather, the one she chose was in green. This one was brought to me by mistake.”

“Then a happy mistake it is. I think this colour suits you quite well. Certainly better than green would have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, you… too?”

“What?”

“You, you look nice. As well.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Trevelyan brushed her skirts so they hung correctly over her legs, which was certainly not an excuse to escape eye contact. “Though I think—”

“Commander,” came Lady Montilyet’s voice once more, even more frazzled than the last time. “The Comtesse wishes to switch tables, and the Marquis now says he would rather sit with the Bann than near her. Would you..?”

Trevelyan held her mouth to stop herself from laughing, because this had to be a joke.

And yet, deadly serious, the Commander rose again. “Forgive me,” he muttered, as he followed Montilyet back to his original seat. The one he left behind was soon taken up by a man in a fanciful white mask.

And not long after, Lady Erridge leant forward. “Lady Trevelyan, would you—?”

Trevelyan sighed. “Lady Erridge, unless it is a matter of life and death, I shall not move from this spot.”

Erridge relented, and sank back into her seat. “Never mind.”

And so, it ended, with Erridge in the centre, and the Commander opposite her. The Baroness sat where Trevelyan first had, at the end of the table, next to Dorian. Trevelyan sat opposite, relieved that she was still, at least, not far from the garden door. Lady Samient had not moved at all.

Yet there was one seat left, across from her in particular. And the arse it waited for finally arrived.

Turqoise mask, silver dress, yellow lace. The Comtesse Bervard settled into her chair. Poor Lady Samient.

“Top of the table,” said the Comtesse, her voice dripping with Orlesian glamour, “as it should be.”

The Baroness snorted into her goblet. Trevelyan rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long banquet.

“Friends and allies of the Inquisition!” Lady Montilyet called. She stood between the two tables, and addressed all upon them. “Thank you all for coming, to solidify our bonds, and to forge new ones. The Inquisition has much to give to Thedas, and we hope to demonstrate that tonight, with warmth, mirth, and good food. Please, enjoy!”

She clapped her hands, and doors opened. An army of kitchen staff filed into the room, each one carrying a plate of steaming food. Well-rehearsed rows were formed around the tables and, all at once, the plates were laid.

Pleasant sounds came from the guests. The first course appeared to be some kind of baked fruit—but presented in fine slices, and with cuts of meat and cheese. A balance of Orlesian tastes, and Fereldan simplicity.

Any conversation quieted, as people began to eat. Polite mouths kept closed, the only sounds those of hummed approval. Until, that was, a fork clinked down onto its plate at the other end of the table.

The Comtesse Bervard leant forward, and gazed down its length. “Who am I eating with, hm?” she asked. “I see new faces here. Introduce yourselves to me.”

The Baroness shot Trevelyan a look, but she needed no prompting. She sank back into her chair, hopeful that the extravagant mask of the Marquis du Vert next to her would do enough to hide her face.

And it did. Because it was not Trevelyan whom the Comtesse spotted first. “You there,” she said, pointing at Erridge. “Your Ladyship, is it?”

It was clear Lady Erridge was nervous, to anyone who knew her. For anyone who knew her, knew she did not miss an opportunity to speak. And yet, when the Comtesse addressed her, she merely nodded in reply.

“Well, what is your name? You must have one.”

Erridge tried to straighten. “I am Lady Erridge, of West Coldon.” When the Comtesse continued to stare at her, Erridge added: “In Ferelden.”

“Ah, I see why you were so keen to hide it. You need not be so embarrassed to be Fereldan here. We are all easy company, I am sure.”

Lady Erridge nodded.

“But I admit, I have never heard your family name before. How delightful to increase one’s knowledge of the world.”

“Well, you might have heard of us,” Erridge muttered, gaining a little sense of pride. “My family are quite prolific traders, in stained glass, particularly.”

The Baroness grimaced. Lady Samient tensed. The Comtesse’s stare narrowed.

“Oh, I see,” she said, speaking as one does to a toddler, “you are in trade. How sweet.” Addressing the table more generally, she went on: “This is why I am so grateful to the Council of Heralds. In Ferelden, they give titles to anyone.”

Chuckles rippled through the other Orlesian guests at the table. The mocking little chorus was cut short, however, by the screech of Samient’s fork against her plate. Accidental, of course.

The Comtesse turned on her. “Lady Samient, you have forgotten your manners.”

“Oh, have I?” Samient replied. “I suppose we left them in the same place.”

The Comtesse laughed. “Still a little spitfire, just like your mother.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, and muttered, “And I hear you like the stables, just like your mother.”

Oh no. If she was referring to what Trevelyan believed she was referring to, then it was best to brace for whatever would come next.

Yet to Trevelyan’s surprise, Lady Samient chuckled along. “Yes, the ones in Skyhold are very well-kept for their location.”

A Bann nearby agreed, and began to talk fondly of the Inquisition’s horsemaster. Trevelyan exchanged a glance with Touledy, all too relieved that was over. They both turned their attentions to Erridge.

The ever-cheerful and bright Lady Erridge sagged as if a candle that had been snuffed. Her food was half-eaten, currently being idly pushed around her plate. Had Trevelyan not already been disposed to intensely dislike this Comtesse Bervard, she would certainly hate her now.

Servants came to clear plates, providing enough distraction for the Baroness Touledy to see to Lady Erridge’s mood. Through whispers behind Dorian, and a little blown kiss, she managed to put a smile back on dear Erridge’s face.

But Trevelyan was not quite satisfied with this. ‘You ought to be loosing fireballs upon the sky’. She waited for the servants to return, and for the second course they brought with them.

Plates were set before the guests—some well-cooked meat with a selection of fine vegetables, in a rich sauce. Everyone, naturally, reached for their cutlery. And as the Comtesse reached for hers, Trevelyan performed just a teensy-weensy bit of magic.

“Oh!” gasped the Comtesse, dropping her knife the moment she touched it. “It gave me a shock!”

Trevelyan bit her lip to conceal the absolute smugness with which she wished to smile. Though she expected a reprimanding glare from Dorian, when she caught his eye, it seemed he suffered the same struggle.

And Maker, if only that had been the end of it. But there were still two more courses. And the Comtesse Bervard was determined to talk through each of them.

“How does your gracious father find the increased Chantry tithes?” she asked Lady Samient, in the midst of riveting discussion about how healthy the Bervard finances were. “My people have been whining, despite all the Chantry does for us in these uncertain times.”

“If there has been complaint,” said Samient, “I haven’t heard of it.”

Nothing to entertain her in that answer. So she turned on Touledy.

“I would ask you, Baroness,” she called across the table, “but you do not have a Chantry to tithe. I expect your people don’t even pay tax.”

What bait! Touledy composed her response carefully: “My people do pay tax, and gladly. For unlike the Chantry tithe, it has some use to them. The roads are well-kept, the commerce flows, no child goes hungry, and my guard is strong.”

The last part in particular caused an unpleasantly confident tip of the Comtesse’s head. “Really? For I have heard your guard was put quite to the test, recently. A skirmish on your land.”

“And they saw it off, did they not? That is proof, I would say.”

The Comtesse had no answer to this, it seemed. She relaxed back in her chair, and continued speaking to a nearby Baron.

With her distracted, Trevelyan whispered to the Baroness: “A skirmish?”

“Bandits,” Touledy replied, reassuringly nonchalant, “though more organised than the usual louts.”

“That shouldn’t be allowed,” Dorian commented. “If they’re smart enough to organise themselves, then they’re smart enough to do something more useful. Become a dancing troupe, perhaps.”

The Baroness laughed. Trevelyan had been quite right that the pair would get along; they’d been doing so famously for the last two courses.

Smiling, she decided to leave them to it, but felt an odd sense of cold as she withdrew. Like a stare.

“And who might you be, on the end there? I do not recognise you.”

Well, shit.

Trevelyan turned, and saw the Comtesse Bervard leaning over the table, her piercing mask pointed directly at her.

There was no escaping this now: “I am Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick.”

“Really?” Though her eyes were nearly concealed, her glare was petrifying. “I have met all the Trevelyans of Ostwick, and I don’t recall your face. I am a regular attendee of Lady Lucille Trevelyan’s balls, you know.”

Touledy swept in: “Lady Trevelyan is the Bann’s seventh child; she attended the Circle in Ostwick for some years.”

There was a laugh from that mask. A cold, wicked laugh.

“Oh, you’re the little apostate. How intriguing to meet you here.”

Trevelyan put on her best smile. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Naturally,” said the Comtesse. “Though I wonder, if you were truly there, could you tell me something about Ostwick Circle?”

“What is it you wish to ask?”

The Comtesse leant further forward, and in a voice that echoed a thousand times through Trevelyan’s head, asked: “Is it true that the Templars sent the heads of mages to the First Enchanter as trophies?”

The candles began to flicker.

Oh, no.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm 01 - The Flood

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: Reader is a woman in her late 20s who had a peculiar childhood. She worked in her family dojo that was attached to a shop! You wake up in an unfamiliar place, wounded, with a somewhat familiar man. These moments will change your life forever.

A/N: I’ve been a huge Mortal Kombat fan for years and I saw the movie the other day. This reader x fic will follow the path/story/idea of the movies!! I have never done one of these before. If anyone is interested in it, I will continue on. It will either be Kung Lao x Reader or Liu Kang x Reader (or both, depending, bwahaha) but I haven’t decided yet. This is just the beginning. There will be plenty of fluff/establishment/smut if I get that far! Enjoy! Remember this is only for fun. Thanks for reading! Edit- You might notice the writing got better suddenly. I'm going through old chapters to casually edit.

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Your head was spinning. When you opened your eyes, you briefly caught the outline of a small room before it spun around you. Vertigo. It took ages for your head to stop spinning even in the darkness of your mind’s eye. Something cold and wet was pressed gently to your forehead, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Small droplets of water trickled over your brow, down your nose and irritated your sinuses. Others traced down the sides of your face and nestled into the mat of your dyed black hair. It was naturally stark white but you’d kept up with the black to better blend in.

Shifting, the bed beneath you felt plush and foreign. This was not your bed. Your bed was a modest bedroll that often left your back aching. What had you been doing that you would wake up somewhere strange? Flashes of a fight rushed into your mind. That was right! You’d been closing up shop for the night when men had rushed in, donned masks, and dressed in black. They’d been armed with blades.

You sat upright, fists at the ready and prepared for a fight. Your arms were aching and constricted, bound in tight cloth. Pain radiated down to your elbows and up to your shoulders. Coughing, your mouth tasted like smoke- acrid and sickening. Worse than that, you felt your heart beating too hard and too fast. There was a deep, familiar pain inside of you, a pain you hadn’t felt since your youth. You could picture in your mind’s eye your shop in flames and the dojo attached to it catching fire.

“Move slowly.” A confident but quiet voice consoled you. He was Chinese, like you, and his voice was soft but commanding. “You have a fever.” Careful but strong hands urged you to rest back down. In a snap, you knocked his hands away. He removed them with such grace and control that you knew he was either a dancer or a fighter. You guessed the latter. The room spun again but you forced your vision to focus. “I knew you were a martial artist but I did not know the extent of your skills.”

You caught a glimpse of the stranger. His short black hair was messy and pulled back from his forehead in a top knot. He had handsome features, dark eyes, and he was nostranger. You’d seen him before but today he was not wearing the wide-brimmed hat that you associated him with.

“You’re handy with a blade. I’m impressed.” He complimented. It was likely that he thought you were still threatened by him. Smart. You were. He’d been coming to the shop attached to your dojo every few months for the last couple of years. Each time his purchase was drastically different. Sometimes it was a weapon, sometimes precious stones, or herbs. Most times he came in just to have you sharpen a blade that you never saw him with again. You had allowed him entry to the dojo to watch classes and observe goings on. Sometimes he showed up every day for weeks a time. Sometimes you didn’t see him for months.

He’d been harmless. The only words that he’d ever spoken to you had been kind and reserved.

“Where am I?” You decided that was the right question. You knew who he was and what had happened for the most part. It was the ‘where’ that puzzled you.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You threw him a glance with dark eyes and he offered a smile that clearly said you wouldn’t get any answers from him until you gave yours. He was worried that your memory had suffered. The dizziness made sense now. You must have struck your head.

“It was late. I was cleaning up the shop before close when a group of men entered. They were trouble, treating wares carelessly. I asked them to leave since I was closing up. They donned masks and things escalated.” Things had more than escalated but it seemed to you that this stranger already knew many of the details of what had occurred without you saying. The men had threatened you with drawn blades and made demands involving you and your dojo that you had refused to bow to. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”

“You killed them.” It wasn’t an accusation. He just understood how your story ended.

“They left me with no choice. I didn’t ask for violence.” You turned your gaze. The room had finally stopped spinning but in a word, you felt like crap. Coughing, you recalled the fire and snapped your attention back to the friendly stranger. “My shop… the dojo!”

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head respectfully. “The fire spread too quickly. There was nothing to be done.”

“I have to go. I…”

“You can’t go back.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t go back. Hanging your head, you resigned to the truth. He was right. You knew it. “I suppose not. I killed those men. I’m a murderer.”

“Those men were cruel and deserved the punishment you dealt them. As far as I’m concerned your action were justified.”

Your brow furrowed. He so easily absolved you of taking the lives of others. You didn’t think the guilt would fade so easily but now was not the time to dwell on it.

“How long have you had the dragon mark?” That was what he really wanted to discuss. His eyes sparkled even in the darkness of the small room- a still completely foreign and strange place. He’d offered you no answers even after you’d given him his.

“Dragon mark?” You didn’t have one as far as you knew. You’d seen others with a dragon marking but had never asked what it meant or why it had been there. You’d once asked your sister about it but she had never noticed the mark on anyone before. Then you’d never spoken of it again. You’d seen things that others could not in your youth and were nervous about bringing things like that up.

“On your back.”

You turned with a snap but it had been foolish. There was no way for you to see it at that angle. Pain shot through you as you searched for it with your left hand. Your forearms had been wrapped tightly but blood was seeping through the gauze, staining it crimson.

“Careful. You were wounded when you offered those men mercy.”

Much to your surprise, he took your hand in his own, the size of his strong hands dwarfing your petite ones. Then he guided your hand carefully to the mark on your lower back. There it was, plain as day. Raised skin in a circle with a dragon head in the middle. It was like a scar, as though you had been branded with it some time ago. Yet, you knew that it hadn’t been there that morning when you’d bathed.

“That’s… new to me.” You didn’t know how else to phrase it and laughed beneath your breath at how silly it sounded not to know it had been there.

“Do you know about the Order of Light?” He was feeling you out, gauging what you knew.

You were hesitant to answer, nervous that what you knew would get you into trouble. When most people entered your shop, they spoke amongst themselves. You learned many secrets that way. You were usually paid little mind unless you were teaching classes or fighting. You’d heard of the Order of Light before. Your curiosity had given you much more than you’d bargained for. You’d learned of other realms, Gods, magic powers. They were the sorts of things you’d read about in fiction. You’d never thought there was much truth to them but part of you had always hoped there was.

“Why do you know so much about what happened to me?” You answered his question with one of your own. It was about time that you got answers instead of just giving them.

“I heard the commotion at your shop. I came to help.” It was his turn to hesitate. “I confess that I’m fond of your dojo. It’s a peaceful reprieve for me. You bring light to a place that has very little.” He bowed his head apologetically, handsome face stern. “It was too late for me to do much but I saw the end of your fight. It was a graceful dance. You offered them mercy and were punished for your kindness. Then the building caught fire. You won the battle but it collapsed with you still inside. I pulled you free before it was too late.”

Funny.

You hadn’t noticed any burns. You remembered fire. You could feel the smoke still in your lungs but the only wounds you remembered suffering were those on your arms and the back of your head. They had to have been terrible. The cold you’d noticed upon waking up had only worsened and now your vision was spotty and hazy around the edges.

��When the authorities came to deal with the fire, I brought you somewhere safe. I didn’t wish for you to be caught.” He lifted his gaze and placed his fist against his palm with a polite bow. “I’m Kung Lao. Forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself earlier.”

You laughed.

There was no way!

You hadn’t heard that name in years. He was confused by your laughter and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I haven’t heard that name in ages. It’s not a common one either. You can’t be Kung Lao.”

“…but I am.”

“The only Kung Lao I’ve ever known died years ago.”

“That’s what was told to people when I left.” Kung Lao’s eyes were shining with amusement. The flicker of the candle resting on the small table next to the bed you rested in danced in his dark eyes. “Do we know each other?”

“If you are, in fact, the same Kung Lao who grew up here then yes, we did. I’m Y/N but I used to go by Y/N.” You hadn’t used your full name in years. It had rarely been used other than to tease you so you’d shortened it. Back then you’d been ill and the other kids had been afraid of you. “Kung Lao was my friend. A stubborn but sweet boy. We played together. He was one of the only people in town not afraid of me. Teased me which… made me angrier than it should have but he was apologetic afterward. The last time I saw him he gave me a purple flower. They don’t grow here anymore. I honestly have no idea where he got it. I could never find them again.”

Kung Lao was completely taken aback.

You supposed you could see the similarities. He could have been your Kung Lao all grown up, about twenty years later. He had similarly shaped eyes. Perhaps the familiarity of him had been why you’d trusted him to sit in on lessons. The idea that he was the same Kung Lao from your childhood made your stomach tighten up in knots. That was too much to deal with right now.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft and thoughtful as if he struggled to find truth in your words.

You bowed your head politely in greeting but it ached so terribly that you held it in your hands. Every movement felt like ice flowing through your veins. When you opened your eyes again your vision went from spotty to completely black. You’d gone blind! Panic raced through your thoughts and you blinked your eyes closed tight. Praying, you opened them again and were grateful that you could see even if your vision was still spotty. The room seemed hazier than before.

“Careful. Lay back and rest.” Kung Lao placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you but you pushed it away again.

“No, no. I should get something to eat. And some water. That will help.” You were sure that your vision was fading from blood loss or exhaustion. Either way food would help. You carefully draped your legs over the side of the bed. Your clothing was singed and bloodied. Gravity disagreed with your arms and your aching head, so you wound up hunching over. Kung Lao helped you sit upright again.

“Your fever is too high. What you need is a doctor.”

“You asked me about the Order of Light.” You ignored his concern in favor of more answers.

“Yes.”

“Then you know about the other realms, too? Is it true?”

Kung Lao was again taken by surprise and stuttered on his words comically.

“I must sound crazy. A man in a coolie hat, well the fanciest one that I’ve ever seen before, came in a few times over the years. I always thought he seemed a little funny. He referred to China as Earthrealm and mentioned the Order of Light in passing. I was curious as to what any of that meant and well, the internet is a fount of information, even for things like that. Most of what I read was on forums and conspiracy sites so I put next to no stake in it. Is any of it true?”

“I’m not the one who should be telling you this.”

“Kung Lao.” You scolded which incited a confident grin from him.

“Have you heard of Mortal Kombat then as well?”

You considered those words. You’d never heard them before so you shook your head no. At least you hadn’t heard them the way that he’d phrased them, as though it were something associated with the Order of Light.

“The mark on your back means that you’ve been chosen to fight.” Kung Lao began on what you were sure would be a lengthy explanation of what would come next but you had tuned him out. Your vision was blurring again. It faded around the edges and the world spun. You felt like you were floating.

“Kung Lao?” You interrupted, grasping blindly for him but your hands had gone numb. There was urgency in your voice.

“It’s okay. I’ll take you to Raiden’s Temple and there you’ll be guided through…”

“Not that. I can’t… I can’t see!” Panic was thick in your voice. Your breath was suddenly short in your chest and you collapsed against him, falling into unconsciousness.

Next Chapter >>

[miracle-sham]

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[tjerra14]

HELLO I would really, really love to hear any rambling thoughts you have on In You, All Things. Absolutely anything you fancy about it, I’m sitting with my chin in my hands ready to listen.

Oh god, free rambling you say. You’ve doomed yourself and the single brain cell I’ve got left.

In You, All Things was my very first Horizon fic, and the first thing I wrote in almost a year. I had a pretty regular writing habit while I was away on an internship/then straight up work during spring/summer 2020 because my tiny tablet PC was the only thing I could handily carry with me to my mother’s place, and all the other leisure time activities—gaming, or drawing, or simply sinking hours into Youtube and/or Netflix—were pretty much impossible due to its very limited processing power. After returning home, however, I kind of stopped, and slowly but surely started sinking an abundance of hours into HZD. At the back of my mind, two things happened: first, I wanted to pick up writing again (at that point, it was Dragon Age as that was the only fandom I was writing for). Second, I wanted to finally write a f/f ship (but aside from DA OCs I didn’t have a couple in mind, and absolutely no story). Then a friend came along suggesting Aloy and Ikrie would be “fun and cute” together while I was streaming Frozen Wilds for her, and with a bit of time, it spiralled from there.

I’m a bit picky when it comes to romance I want to read, so there was never a question that I would likely have to write it myself, and thus, In You, All Things was born. Originally called Moths for the metaphor of the moths being drawn to the flame and then burning in a moment of beauty was the very first note I took on it, when I wasn’t even sure yet I would actually write it, it came with a few problems that seemed insurmountable at first.

First, I had a timing problem—when would this be set? I tend to play Frozen Wilds early in the game’s story, but never felt Aloy would fall quickly for someone without becoming close friends with them first which takes time, or even allow herself to with all that is going on in the main game. In the end, I kind of glossed over this with a non-specific “repeated visits, repeated inexplicable meetings” and only specified in Linger, when they’re already in an established relationship. I still don’t know when this one is set, exactly. I suppose it doesn’t matter.

Then, the actual plot of the fic. The thought of them “accidentally” meeting up time and again was rather intriguing and also the only way I could see this play out—neither of them would admit they were looking for the other’s company, Aloy thinking she has to depend on herself and Ikrie recently having decided that she has to now, too—but how could I raise the stakes for the bit of drama that would bring them together and have them admit their feelings? I flip-flopped between Aloy getting hurt, Ikrie getting hurt, no one getting hurt and the both of them just teaming up for a difficult fight (a Fireclaw was the meanest critter I could think of in a FW setting, and consecutively bent Naltuk’s “we spotted them all” a little since CYAN never specifies an exact number and the Cut is treacherous and hostile terrain. I accidentally put “Frostclaw” in my notes often enough an additional “check if it’s always Fireclaw in the fic” note popped up) and finally settled on Ikrie, with an injury that needs tending to but wouldn’t be too serious so it doesn’t overshadow the internal conflicts of both, admitting and submitting to their vulnerability.

The cave probably gave me more grey hair. I needed a safe spot for both to retreat, both from the machines and the weather, so a cave seemed ideal, but there was the question of the campfire. I wanted Aloy to leave for a bit so Ikrie could get to start treating her injury on her own but failing, allowing Aloy to rush to her side when she returns; but also slot in some angst. The image of Ikrie sitting by the campfire, straining to reach the injury with a wet cloth, came to mind very early on, as well, and I wanted to keep it, even though it presented me with the issue of who built that fire, if Aloy goes out to hunt. If she also collects firewood, the fire can’t be going when she returns. If Ikrie collects it in her absence, Aloy’s “I’ll get that” is of little consequence. The solution was to make it a cave Ikrie uses as shelter on her hunting trips, which seems logical, but it took me four days to get there.

And then, well, the ending. Originally, I wanted to leave it ambiguous if they even kissed, but subsequently caved (haha) as I enjoyed leaning into that vulnerability of a shared touch quite a bit. This is also where the final title came from. Originally, I had Ikrie becoming very poetic about the things she wants and is afraid of, then decided it was a bit too much for her as a character (it sounded more like Ourea, to be honest), so I went back to her snow ghost line about being free to do what she wants, and how that is impossible. Now “in you, all things are possible” offered itself to be stolen and used out of context with Aloy answering that it doesn’t have to be, and well…it was trash hours. (It still is. It hasn’t stopped. Only now it’s syrup. I'm doomed.)

[jjkoc-stuff]

Ryu's Story

notes: in this AU! toji and jin are alive. please bare if you spot any grammar mistakes (English is not my first language) (also, I'm not a writer. This is my first time writing something long like this.)

TW: su!c!de mentioned

————————————————

I was brought into this world to bring bad luck that was what my mother referred me as. I just get along with what she said. "You're nothing but a cursed child! I don't even know why I listened to your aunt!" She was right, I'm just a useless sorcerer's daughter. Why was I even born, what was my purpose being on this earth? That was my thought through put my life until I met 'her', my dear friend. She gave me a reason to live, she was my everything until an accident happened. I lost her. I can't see her pink orbs, cherry blossom pink hair and her comforting smile that calms me down. I had nothing but my so called mother.

A year later, my so called mother shot herself. I was all alone. No mother, no father to be seen. During the funeral, a shady looking lady came up to me and asked "What are you going to do now since you have nothing on this world?". I replied "Nothing. Just thinking of burying myself in this damn soil." "Oh pity, you have more to do. Come with me." I followed her, who is she and what does she do for a living?Who knows if this woman is going to murder me. Like I care, she can just end my miserable life. But surprisingly she took care of me...? I lived in her house and treated me like a human being. Fed me food that she cooks for me, gave me clothes and even some money. Is this what having a mother feels like?

She explained to me who she was and what she does. Well, what a shocker, she was my damn old man's ex-lover. The bastard left her and married the bitch aka my birth mother. She told me everything that my aunt told her, they were friends back in highschool. My parents didn't even named me, my aunt did. She was the one who persuaded my mother to keep me. My father died of sickness after a few months I was born and my mother and my father's family blamed that on me for "bringing bad luck" to them. Bitch. My aunt told shady lady to take care of me and she did.

She told me what she does for a living, she handles a female assassination organization. That's pretty badass if I say so myself. She offered me to join the organization so I took my chance a nd accepted her offer. I did my trainings with her and self trained. I did a few missions. It was something new for me but hey, easy money.

While still being an assassin, she knows that I'm a sorcerer's daughter and can see curses and summons dragon curses, she took me to a school where sorcerers go,Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. I met two annoying guys, white hair with sunglasses and a dark hair tied in a bun with.....bangs...(they probably fuck each other. They were so close. Too close) and there was also a short length brown hair girl who smokes a lot, I guess I got that nicotine addiction from her.

In 2006, I had so many missions to do so I told principal Yaga for my leave. I flew off to many countries to assassinate some rich bastards. A year later, I flew back to Japan, I was so busy with my missions and had no idea what happen in jujutsu tech but a first year, Nanami, told me what happened. Bat shit crazy things happened while I was away.

After graduating from Jujutsu Tech, I continued with my assassination works. I became the highest skilled female assassin by the time I turned 18. At the age of 19, that's when I wanted to end this killing work. But shady lady gave me one last mission, is to massacre the Yukio clan, my father's side of the family, who thinks that I was born as a demon because of my red eyes. They treated me poorly. I didn't hesitate and accepted this mission. I killed everyone in the Yukio mansion. Men, women and children. Aaaand that's a wrap for my assassination days. Farewell to assassin Ryu and shady lady. Thank you for caring me when I had nothing at all. I had a stable income because of the missions I did and got myself a house. Time to start a new chapter.

I wanted to try something new so I went to a culinary school. After a few months studying in this college, a classmate of mine dragged me into this job. She didn't even tell what the job is and her reason was I was suited for this job. Pathetic. Welp, I need to make an income. I can't just rely on my current income. So I went to the house that she sent me. I somehow met an old geezer. I need to take care of his 7 year old grandson while his father is on a long ass business trip??? A fucking babysitting job?? I'm not fond of children so I refuse his offer. He kept on nagging no matter how many times I rejected the damn job. Well I need an income anyway so I took the damn guardian job.

The geezer called a name and a 7 year old kid came in the room and the gramps said "This is Ryu, she will be your guardian for now." The pink hair boy looked at me bowed and introduced himself and head up back upstairs. Gramps went back at me and said "Listen here, I really need your help right now. I'm too old to do all this by myself. I'm not healthy like I used to be." I replied "How about his relatives? His mother?" "We haven't spoken with our relatives for so long and we lost their contacts. His mother....she is in a better place.." he spoke quietly when he mentioned about Yuji's mother. I understand but why me..? Ugh let's get this over with. Gramps later said to me "the contract is for 2 years. Until his father finished his business trip and Yuji will be staying with you for a week starting from two days from now." 2 YEARS? A KID LIVING WITH ME?? What has my life turned into......

[arinlangdon]

reactions again. i have a lot to say and there’s nowhere better to dump it all than my online blog which i treat as a stream-of-consciousness public diary/liveblog of my love affair with this fictional character.

episode 7

ah yes, the memory headaches are back, sooner than ever. i hope this means FMC will be regaining her memories sooner in this route too. i think it would be more interesting to see her navigate a route while remembering everything about her life from before, for multiple reasons. after all, every route ended with that, so far, and we didn’t explore much about what that means. the route that centers on 2/3 of the triad seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

so Arin used to have panic attacks, confirmed? precious anxiety baby

love the Humpty Dumpty bit

i love how they reference giving her the moon again. “I gave it to you, and it’ll ground you” and it’s a secret between her and them how they did it. augh, too romantic. (also, blush count for this set: 1)

“Yikes, do you even sleep?” i ask myself this every day, Jackie. does Arin ever use that plush-looking bed? a mystery for the ages. she’s right though, Arin is far too busy for their own good. they know everything except for the meaning of the word “relaxation”

i see we’re speaking in code now. i love Ever After Academy, the series where frogs are really head librarians and rabbits are actually cat-dog-rabbit-dragon-things, and men named Wolf aren’t actually werewolves

“Arin constantly skips meals due to being too busy” headcanon regretfully confirmed. Arin nO

“FMC is always trying weird new flavors of desserts” headcanon also confirmed lol. this girl, always so adventurous. but also, “better than getting the same thing every time”? it’s true, novelty is necessary. a woman after my own heart.

oh yes, now i can check “heart scene where you help Arin relax and have fun” off my wish list. right above that is “pluck the coffee right out of their hands, march them straight to bed and tuck them in, and maybe cuddle a bit”, and right below it is “plan a special date where you block off a full 24 hours of free time for Arin so you can spend the whole day together”. (Voltage, i have great ideas, hire me now)

Arin blush count: 2. oh look at these two shy idiots who can only dance around their feelings. surely they have to have some clue that their feelings are mutual? they keep trying to stop themselves from kissing the other. it’s driving me nuts. these fools! i push them together like a child pretending to make their dolls kiss.

episode 8

i’m sure they wrote in the explanation for the terrarium as it’s a holdover from Ezra’s route, but i think it’s funny to think that the siblings kept the terrarium all these years and Arin never knew about it. Arin ur not the only one with secrets

again, i do like how Arin keeps referencing the moon. moon rabbit. moon rabbit!!

oh here comes the angst from Arin keeping secrets from FMC for good reasons but not even being able to tell her the reasons. we all saw this coming from a mile away, but it still hurts. :(

wow i cannot wait to find out all of Arin’s secrets :D including their personal ones. (does that make me sound creepy? oops)

more dragon lore, and a debate between Nora and Lucas about dragons? yes please.

as an aside: i can’t believe it’s taken me this long to mention it, but i’m peeved at how the writing in this route keeps referring to Arin as “themselves” when they’re singular. “themself” may not be a familiar word, but it feels the most correct when referring to an individual. “herselves” and “himselves” isn’t a thing.

“Arin is a terrible singer” headcanon confirmed. Arin has a lovely voice but is a rubbish singer, i love it. keep the doors coming, Charlie, i’m on a roll today.

oh god, more embarrassing Arin stories, i am living for this. Arin blush count: 3, maybe 4. what exactly did they wind up on top of, FMC? do tell.

i cannot believe Arin has early 2000s boy band music on their phone. is this the real life? lmao this is probably the most surprising fact i’ve learned about them in this entire set, if not the whole route so far. Arin’s dignity: dropping like a stone. this is hilarious, i love it. god. seriously though, which song was it—

episode 9

can’t help but try to read ulterior motives into Jackie’s every move, and failing because we don’t know enough yet. trying to book a tutoring session with Arin, peeping into FMC’s house’s window, tipping off FMC about Darla’s scheming, being overly invested in the fairytale friends’ well-being? she’s the prime suspect for being the Big Bad of this route, and possibly the Queen of Hearts from the Alice duology, yet she hasn’t done anything outright villainous yet. she’s actually been fairly friendly and helpful. Jackie, what is your deal

Arin blush count: 5. wow careful Arin, your face will get stuck like that and you’ll pass out from lack of blood flow to the rest of your body

it’s still hard getting used to the knowledge that Arin is and was FMC’s best friend. it boggles my mind.

but also i want to imagine them as kiddos hanging out in her room and having fun. adorable. teen flashbacks when :’(

“you’re special to me” wow surefire arrow to my heart oof. Arin blush count: 6.

oh no, again with the holding back, you clods. you lovestruck idiots. you silly dumdums. being a 20-something and having feelings for your best friend is hard. it’s hard and nobody understands. :( when are they going to talk about this? when are they going to come out and say something?? normally FMC is much more straightforward than this, but i guess when it comes to a friendship you’ve cultivated for years, even the bravest people hesitate to rock the boat. but it’ll be all the more satisfying when they actually reach that point.

watching Arin put up the walls again, i can just hear them thinking “conceal, don’t feel”. “remove all magic, but leave the fun” ahahaha alright that’s enough

it’s nice to see FMC seeking out the company and advice of the fairytale trio in this route, especially Nora. those girls, always so close. she really is the only female friend FMC has, until Darla becomes her friend.

so much for hiding magic from MMC! cat’s out the bag sooner than i thought, and Arin’s not going to be happy about it. now they’re going to be pulling double duty trying to keep both siblings from a-sploding their heads by accident. poor Arin

did FMC explain the plan for making things right (whatever “things” are) and restoring their memories? or did she just leave them to wait it out indefinitely? oh no

[bloody-britt26]

Could I request Piers falling in love with a single mom reader? Maybe she can have a Drampa who's very protective of her and her son/daughter because it doesn't want them to be hurt by anyone. Drampa love children so I thought it was fitting! Thank you!! ❤

This was so cute and fun to write! I made this into a drabble because I got very inspired for this prompt, and I honestly could have kept going. You guys can let me know if you want more parts to this!

🎸 Piers falling in love with a single mother reader 🎸

“Elias, could you help me unload the cart onto the counter?” You asked your son.

“Okay mummy,” he replied in a sweet tone.

You both set your various food items onto the counter, letting the cashier scan each one of them. You bit your lip nervously as you looked at the price go up with each item. You had bought just enough to make it through the week, now you had to hope that you had made enough money to pay for your groceries.

“I’ll go put the cart back,” Elias said.

You nodded with a smile, he was such a sweet boy, always helping you to the best of his abilities whether you asked or not.

“That’ll be 32,000 Pokémon Dollars, please,” the cashier said.

You nodded, taking your wallet out and rummaging through it. As you counted your money, you felt panic flow through your mind as you noticed that you weren’t going to have enough. 

Oh dear, you only had 27,000. 

You set the money down on the counter, cringing as the cashier gave you a funny look. 

“Ma'am, there’s 5,000 Pokémon Dollars missing,” the cashier said.

‘I know, damn it!’

You forced a nervous laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Let me just- maybe I have a card or coupon…”

Nothing of the sort was found in your wallet. You shook in embarrassment as you felt everyone’s judgmental eyes on you. You pocketed your wallet rather abruptly and opened up your bag.

“H-Hold on… maybe I’ve got something to sell,” you said.

You rummaged through your bag, hoping to find a star piece, a pearl, anything. Of course, you had no valuable items left, except for the golden chain around your neck.

Your heart broke at the thought of parting with it as it was a gift from your grandmother, but you were in a tight spot.

As you were about to unhook the chain from your neck, you felt a light tug at your shirt. Looking down, your son was looking at you with sad eyes.

“But mummy, that necklace is important to you,” he said.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Elias was having none of it. He shook his head in protest. “Don’t get rid of it. It’ll make you sad, and I don’t want to see you sad, mummy.”

“Elias…”

“We can put the cookies back. I don’t need them,” he said.

“But I promised you a treat,” you said in a sad tone.

“It’s okay. You’re more important than cookies,” he said as he hugged your arm.

You didn’t even know how to react. You really were blessed with the sweetest boy. He was so mature for his age, though it was probably your fault. The reality of being alone to take care of your home and child hit you hard, and you couldn’t spoil Elias like other parents could, even if you wanted to do so. You sincerely hoped that you weren’t ruining his childhood.

You felt tears well up as you heard other shoppers in line mutter words of disapproval at you.

“Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

“What a wreck.”

“That child deserves better.”

“Why did she have a kid if she can’t take care of him properly?”

A hand that was gently put atop your shoulder snapped you out of your sorrow. Looking behind you, was a tall and lanky man, seemingly around your age. He was extremely pale, visible bags underneath his green eyes. He had a punk look, from his outfit to his black and white hairstyle. He seemed to be hunched over slightly. He looked like a wreck, but rather attractive if you were being completely honest. You felt like you had seen him somewhere before. On TV, perhaps?

You shook your head, ready to apologize for taking up so much time, but he quickly shushed.

“You ain’t gon’ need to sell your necklace, or put anythin’ back on the shelves,” he said.

He reached into his jacket’s pocket, taking out 5,000 Pokémon Dollars, putting the money atop the counter.

You blinked, not used to being helped by complete strangers. Still, you felt dirty by taking this man’s money.

“I can’t… I can’t accept this,” you said.

He waved you off. “It’s all good, just take it.”

“I- thank you, sir,” you said as the cashier took the money and bagged your items.

Your son looked up at the man, a small twinkle in his eyes. “Thank you very much, mister.”

A very small, barely noticeable smile found its way onto the man’s face. “Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

As the man paid for his very few items, your son picked up one of the grocery bags, while you grabbed the remaining two.

As you were about to walk out, one of the bags was taken out of your arms. It was the same man.

“Here, lemme help with that,” he said.

“No, you’ve done enough. You don’t have to waste your time with me,” you protested.

He ignored your comment. “You’re visibly exhausted.”

Your son chimed in. “She works really, really hard.”

“See? Even your son agrees. Lemme walk you home,” he said.

You bit your lip, truly not used to receiving such kindness from anyone. It felt nice to have someone showing concern over rolling their eyes at your sorry situation.

“I don’t live that far, I’ll be-”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cut you off. “Oh, right. I ain’t got no manners… name’s Piers.”

“Piers… I’m (name), and this is my son, Elias,” you said, relaxing a little as you started to feel more comfortable.

Then, as if everything clicked in your head, you turned to Piers with a questioning look on your face.

“Wait… you wouldn’t happen to be the Spikemuth gym leader and rockstar, right?” You asked.

Piers had a little smirk on his face. “Yeah, that’d be me, but I ain’t the gym leader no more. My lil’ sis is runnin’ it for me now. I’m a full-time musician now.”

Elias looked at Piers with absolute wonder. “So cool…”

“Oh… I am so out of the loop. Really though, you probably have better things to do than walk me home,” you said, embarrassment lacing your voice.

You suddenly felt self-conscious that a celebrity had helped you pay for your groceries.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m tellin’ you,” he said. “I don’t wanna be nosy or anythin’, but you’re alone, yeah? No boyfriend or husband?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed. You supposed that it was very obvious that you were a single mother.

“You kinda remind me of myself,” he said.

You raised a brow. “How so?”

“Used to be in a similar situation when I was younger, parents were absent an’ I was raisin’ my lil’ sister by myself. Was tough, I remember, an’ nobody ever thought of givin’ a hand to the gutter punk lookin’ guy. Guess I just wanna, I dunno, help out a young woman who’s tryin’ her best, you know?” He explained.

“I- thank you, Piers,” you said with a small blush.

It was nice to talk to someone who could understand you. Most people pointed at you, laughed or disapproved of you. They’d never been in your situation, so they didn’t know just how difficult it could be at times.

“Oh, we’re here,” you said as you came up to your very small house.

You chuckled nervously, that self-conscious feeling resurfacing as you acknowledged the difference between your social status and his. “It’s… I know it’s not very impressive.”

Piers shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah, it looks cozy. You’d be surprised how messy and unimpressive my home is.”

You raised a brow. “Really now?”

“Yeah… Spikemuth really ain’t that impressive, but I love the town anyways.”

“Well, that’s what’s important, huh? Oh, you can drop the bag at my front door, I’ll take it indoors. You too, Elias,” you said as you put your own bag down.

Elias and Piers nodded and did the same. Right afterwards, a friendly growl echoed from your front yard. It was your beloved Drampa, poking his head over the fence.

“Drampy!” Elias exclaimed, running up to the dog-like dragon.

Drampa cooed at your son, nuzzling him affectionately as Elias scratched his nose.

Piers blinked, not expecting you to have a large dragon in your yard. “Is that your Drampa?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that’s my big boy. He’s my only pokémon, but he’s been with me since I was a child.”

Your son turned to you. “Mummy, can I play with Drampy after I finish my homework?” He asked.

“Of course, sweetheart!” You said, handing your son the key to your home.

Elias smiled and thanked you. As he unlocked the door, he also grabbed a grocery bag to bring it inside.

When Elias was inside, Piers nodded in approval. “Sweet kid. You’ve been raisin’ him well.”

“Thank you, it means a lot,” you said, genuinely happy at the compliment.

You approached your Drampa, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you. As soon as you were near, he gave you sloppy kisses and nuzzled you as if his life depended on it.

“Drampa!” You said with a giggle.

Piers approached you and Drampa as well, but as soon he did, Drampa’s mood immediately turned sour. Your dragon used his head to push you back, growling at Piers.

Piers chuckled nervously at Drampa’s intimidating change in behaviour. You, on the other hand, were shushing and rubbing Drampa soothingly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. This is Piers… he helped me, he’s nice,” you said.

Drampa glanced at you, a worried look flashing through his eyes. His growling had diminished, but he kept a firm glare on Piers.

“Sorry, Piers. He’s always been very protective of me, but that doubled ever since my ex left me when I got pregnant. He saw me at my worst, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt me again,” you explained.

Piers had a small smile as he waved you off. “Don’t worry, I get it.” He turned to Drampa. “Protectin’ your loved ones like that, I get you. It’s honourable, you’re a good pokémon.”

Drampa huffed, blowing a bit of his breath in Piers’ direction, making him stumble back a little.

“Woah. I heard Drampa’s breaths were strong… guess they weren’t kiddin’,” he muttered.

You laughed as Drampa had a little smirk on his face. “He’s tough. We used to battle together a lot a few years back. I don’t have much time for that anymore, unfortunately.”

“You’d make a good trainer, I’m sure,” he said.

You felt your cheeks burn slightly. Piers was just handing you so many compliments, and he sounded absolutely genuine with every single one of them.

He cleared his throat, a barely noticeable blush making its way onto his cheeks as he reached into his pockets, pulling out what seemed to be two tickets.

“Here. I’ve got a show this weekend in Spikemuth, an’ I’d like to see you an’ your son there…” he paused, scratching the back of his head nervously, “…it might also be an excuse to get to see you so I can get to know you better, ‘cause you’re cute an’ sweet an’ all.”

You couldn’t help the dorky laugh that escaped you as you gratefully accepted the tickets.

“I’d like that. Thank you for everything, Piers,” you said.

He smiled, blush getting deeper as he shrugged. “It’s no prob. I’ll see you there?”

You nodded with a smile as you waved goodbye to him before he headed in the opposite direction of your home.

Your Drampa gave you a questioning look, as if he was saying, “Are you really considering this?” To which you nodded, giving a reassuring pat to the concerned dragon.

Maybe, you finally had a shot at a better life, after all of the hardships that had been thrown at you.

[mywitchcultblr]

The chantry is right and mages should be in the circle. Solas and anders are terrorists and anyone who believes they arent is delusional or a hypocrite. Anders killed a hundred innocent civillian non combatants and solas wants to tear down the veil killing millions in the process. But yes we should let the people causing firestorms and summoning demons go completely un supervised

                                                         MY FIRST ARGUMENT AGAINST A TEMPLAR BOOTLICKER! YAAY!

 @lordaspoons Ok listen, first of all, I'm not felassan nor dalishlicious, my writings style is different and not as good as them, and I love to use a lot of profanities in my writings, so if you ever find ‘shit ‘ or ‘fuck’ in a post, not sorry  I SWEAR THIS POST HAVE MORE THAN 7K WORDS!   That’s why it took MONTHS for me to answer it 

TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY ARE GOD-AWFUL AND CIRCLE IS NOT NECESSARY 

Let’s see the canonical narrative okay? Let's take a look at Dragon Age keep descriptions of each MAGES heroes story and background.

Mage Hawke:

The son of Malcolm Hawke and Leandra Amell, Garrett has lived in many places throughout Ferelden. His father was a mage whose gifts were passed onto both Garrett and Bethany, Malcolm's daughter.

Malcolm refused to submit himself to the Chantry's rule; he kept his abilities a secret and taught his children to do the same.

Therefore, the family was constantly on the move to avoid templar hunters. Ten years ago, the family settled in the village of Lothering, building a home on the outskirts and making a life where they wouldn't forever be on the run.

Though Leandra worried constantly that the templars would one day catch up with them, Malcolm's teachings were sufficient to keep them safe.

He died three years ago, leaving Garrett responsible for the welfare of his mother and younger siblings. When the Blight began, Carver enlisted in King Cailan's regiment, saying the horde spilling from the Korcari Wilds meant their home would be quickly overrun if the darkspawn were not defeated immediately.

If the circle is not a goddamn prison that literally abused and drive so many mages to commit suicide then why the fuck hawke father decided to escaped and run away? The fact that even though his wife is a noble, a noble who should have been powerful enough to support him and their children and protect Malcom and their children with her name and connection is Kirkwall were forced to live in secret and ON THE RUN WITH HER FAMILY! is another of many many proofs that the system that chantry created for Thedas HURT everyone, whatever you are a peasant or a noble, if you have a mage in your family then they will be imprisoned in a circle that definitely will abuse them or you are forced to hide with them and run away from home.

IS QUARANTINE DRIVE YOU INSANE? ARE YOU BORED? WANNA GO OUT WITH FRIENDS? WANNA GRAB A MEAL IN A RESTAURANT? OR GET A HAIRCUT?

Remember De’Launcet fucking quote:

“You don’t understand. I’ve been in the Circle since I was six. Six! For Twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, or... cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain... or kissed a girl.”.

You cannot treat people like that! You can’t! it’s not right to imprison and enslaved people, mages, like that, there’s no justification to deny basic human rights/rights for any races. Imagine how desperate, depressed, touch-starved and horny you are, if you are not allowed to touch a woman who consented to have sex with you, imagine beingfucking locked up for twenty years and never feel the rain on your face. 

Maybe you should try being locked up for most of YOUR LIFE, for shit you never did in your life ever, aka committed horrible crimes that you never committed in the first place? 

Where’s the logic? Where’s the humanity? Andrastianism and The chantry is the worst religion and the worst religious institution in Thedas, and templars are not champion of the just, they are champion of abusers. 

But besides because of religious zealotry and dogma, why did the chantry locked up and enslaved mages in circle and put templar in circle to fucking abused them? OH RIGHT! I KNOW! its for power and profits, because using slave labor to make enchantments and used mages as soldiers who never wanted to be dragged into war in the first place,  it was and as prison/free labor to mass products enchantments is profitable for the chantry. !GROSS! DISGUSTING! Disgusting really.   The circle system is not only a prison camp, but also an institutional slavery.  

GROSS! DISGUSTING! But it sounds like any oppressive nations/institutions ever that used prison camp free labor to built factories and to work in their factories right? 

Disgusting really. 

Hey, LOOK AT HERO OF FERELDEN AND INQUSITOR EXPERIENCES IN THE CIRCLE! WHOA, IT WAS AWFUL!

For Mage!Trevelyan:

Born to the Trevelyan noble family of Ostwick in the Free Marches, you were originally intended for a life of privilege—until magical abilities surfaced at a young age and you were forced into a life of confinement within Ostwick's Circle of Magi. Protected but stifled, educated but isolated, the Circle would have been your entire future had the mages not rebelled against Chantry rule.

Trevelyan said that templars are a piece of shit who has two fucking faces (he said it to Josie) they smiled at mages (fake) but then they turned into as still as tone when a mage was punished ‘harshly” 

Remember what Cassandra said when mages find out that Tranquility can be reversed, dipshit fucking seeker, lord seeker lucius punished mages ‘harshly’ and there were deaths, and by definition of harsh for mages in thedas is: 

Rape

Isolation in an isolation cell (like what happened to Anders for a year!)

Starved to death like what happened to the real Cole

Tranquility or they are just killed. 

Every mages, adult or child, has seen or experiences abuses daily in their life, you can imagine the physical and physiologicalphysicological damages that templar and chantry have inflicted on them. As a person who was fucking abused by her own father, Ii know too well how lasting scars could damage you for life. 

TO ANYONE WHO DISMISSED ABUSES ESPECIALLY ABUSE THAT WAS PERPETRATED BY A RELIGIOUS SYSTEM/INSTITUTION, here take my middle finger AND SHOVE IT UP TO YOUR ASSES! 

Look Hero Of Ferelden life when she was still stuck in the circle:

The Hero of Ferelden belonged to the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, and resided in the tower at Lake Calenhad for most of her life. First Enchanter Irving recommended the Hero to Grey Warden Commander Duncan; shortly after the Hero's Harrowing, Duncan recruited her into the order.

https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/mage+warden+

https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/190968276307/mage-child-are-the-templars-coming-for-us-mage

Mage child: Are the templars coming for us?

Mage child: Is death painful? Am I going to die?

HEY WANNA TAKE A LOOK AT SER ALRIK? THE SERIAL ABUSER AND RAPIST?

 This is a letter that Alrik send to justinia before he died.To Her Excellency, Divine Justinia,I am well aware both you and Knight-Commander Meredith have rejected my proposal, but I beg you to reconsider. The mages in the Free Marches are past controlling, their numbers have doubled in three years, and they have found a way to plant their abominations in our ranks. They cannot be contained!

The Tranquil Solution is our answer. All mages at the age of majority must be made Tranquil. They'll coexist peacefully, retain their usefulness—a perfect strategy! It's simply the best way to ensure mages obey the laws of men and Maker.I remain, as always, your obedient servant,

Tranquil solution? Sounds like what Henrich Himmler said about Jews!

 Because Tranquility is a genocidal weapon that the chantry used to decreased the mages population and culling them, hmmm you heard about an 11 YEARS OLD GIRL WHO was MADE A FUCKING TRANQUIL IN KIRKWAL? 

Here I will give you a link to dalishious post about a young mage, 11 years old kid who was made tranquil by templar and chantry: https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/620951635453149184/im-confused-it-says-that-she-requested-to-be|

ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING *spit on chantry and templar* 

There’s no fucking justification for turning a kid into a tranquil, neither raped woman who was made tranquil or mages in general just because they have magic. Alrik and his man are known for abusing and raped tranquil on a daily occasion, and they were granted a title, position, money, and job by the chantry, meredith is a bitch who treated mages like a slave, she was drunk on red lyrium, she didn’t do shit for refugee and she fucking took over Kirkwall seat of government, forcefully, while it was not her job to lording over Kirkwall like a power-hungry bitch. 

And for years no one checked on this bitch, because miss little grand cleric of Kirkwall is part of Meredith group, and no matter what unless the chantry got fucking destroyed or HEAVILY REFORMED like what Divine Leliana did, people like Meredith and

Ser Alrik will never be held accountable by the chantry or any rulers in Southern Thedas (except by King Alistair who gave rebel mages a safe refugee place I guess) because most shit heads who ruled in Thedas profited from oppression and slavery of their PEOPLE, OF MAGES AND ELVES. 

You are a modern man, how could you ever side with the medieval church like the chantry? YOU KNOW THAT MEDIEVAL VATICAN AND TEMPLAR OF OUR WORLD WERE AWFUL RIGHT?

You knew that the vatican/church in the medieval era trapped people in dark ages with their regressive politic and dogma, you knew that gay people and woman were burned alive just because they were gay and just because they are? Woman? Maybe some of them truly practiced magic, but hey magic is cool.

I don’t understand at all, this fucking hatred and bigotry against mages and elves that spewed by some people in the fandom, anyone who hates mages and elves inherently hates them for who they are, for simply who they are. 

My burning hatred for templar and chantry were caused by templar and chantry terrible actions for the past 10000 YEARS!!!!!!!! And not because they don't have magic or just because they are human. 

The chantry brainwashed human to dehumanize others 

I think this is one of the most disturbing crime the chantry ever committed for the past 1000 years, I can’t even help but shudder in disgust every time i heard chantry sisters or brother calling other people ‘abomination’ or ‘heretic’ because i know how dangerous religious zealotry can be.

As a Muslim who live in Indonesia i have seen people being thrown out of their house or whipped in public (In Aceh province) 

2.NOW MAGES ALLIED BY THE THE INQUISITOR AND THE INQUISITION IS THE CANON PATH!

 (deal with it honestly) 

First of all, when The inquisitor went to Val Royeaux, the inquisition met with Lord Seeker who was arguing with chantry sister, he didn’t want to listen to her, and then he punched her (bitch fucking deserve it, to be honest, chantry members except anyone whose not bigoted like Leliana and Giselle deserve to be punched) he insulted the inquisition and the inquisitor! ( what a Bastard Dick! Well, templar order is gone and he’s going to die anyway so....Whatever) 

When the Inquisitor went back to the way he came from (from Val Royeaux gate)

FIONA LEADER OF FREE MAGES HERSELF, DESPITE THE RISK AND DANGERS, WAS WILLING TO PERSONALLY GAVE AN OFFER OF ALLIANCES BETWEEN REBEL/FREE MAGES WITH THE INQUSITION.

FIONA GOES ALL THE WAY, FROM SAFETY OF REDCLIFF VILLAGE TO VAL ROYEAUX JUST SO SHE CAN meet WITH THE INQUISITOR AND OFFERED HIM AN ALLIANCES WITH OTHER REBEL MAGES (Of course The inquisitor accepted it, he’s a rebel mage after all duh!)  

From the very beginning you can see which path is the preferred freaking option, Its In Hushed Whispers and not the other one.

Besides it would make more sense for the sake of continuity to find out about the rift, time magic, who’s the mastermind behind what happened in Redcliff Village (Alexius tricked Fiona and other mages with time magic and blood magic to signed up with Tevinter) AND HOW FUTURE WITH CORYPHEUS WON LOOKS LIKE, rather than I don’t know.....Whatever bullshit in Therinfal Redoubt.

SECOND. Free alliances with rebel mages definitely would give The inquisition more advantages, first mages knew how to deal with magic and the fade, mages are more suited and powerful to fight against enemies that cannot be defeated by shield and swords. 

THIRD. 

THERE WERE NO ACCIDENT, NO UNWANTED POSSESSION OR EVEN NO POSSESSION AT ALL, NO DISASTER, AND NO ‘ABOMINATION’ .

 FOURTH. THE MAGES CONSUMED fewer RESOURCES BECAUSE THEY DONT NEED LYRIUM TO FEED THEIR ADDICTION/CAST SPELLS.

FIFTH. 

 FOR A WHOLE YEAR DURING CAMPAIGN AGAINST CORYPHEUS, MAGES HAS PROVEN THAT THEY CAN TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES, MAGES WERE DISCIPLINED, RELIABLE AND BOTH THEDAS, INQUISITION, PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN SKYHOLD AND MAGES THEMSELVES ARE FINE WITH THE MAGES BEING FREE, WITHOUT RELIGIOUS SLAVERS WHO OWN THEM, WITHOUT JAILER WATCHING THEIR BACK. 

SIX. SPIRITS AND DEMONS were LITERALLY EVERYWHERE, AND EXCUSE ME, HAVE FRANCOIS EVER RECEIVED/READ REPORTS ABOUT HIS FELLOW MAGES FALL INTO DEMON POSSESSION? HELL NO! NOT EVEN ONCE

SEVEN. 

MAGES ALLIED AS FULL ALLY WOULD BE MORE INDEPENDENT, AND THEY COULD TEACHED YOUNG MAGES HOW TO SURVIVE ON THEIR OWN, THEY COULD BE MORE INVOLVED WITH SOCIETY, AND MAGES ASSIMILATED TO SOCIETY  

AND FINALLY.

DO YOU want A ANOTHER FUCKING PROOF OF MAGES FREEDOM BEING SUCCESSFUL? DO YOU WANT LITERAL CANON PROOF THAT MAGES BEING FREE IS ONE OF THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED IN THEDAS?

 The Inquisition's mages – the former rebels led by Grand Enchanter Fiona – are left with a choice.

Alliance

Leliana is Divine

When Leliana disbands the Circles, they leave the Inquisition and reform the College of Enchanters as a new order. The College, they say, will allow mages of the South to gather in peace and seek new solutions to age-old problems. For the moment, it appears to be working – mages are enjoying unprecedented acceptance throughout Thedas. 

Epilogue for mages freedom in Trespasser:

NOW College of Enchanters, Thedas third or fourth most powerful mage order and government (third if Rivain mages flocked to The College but I think Rivain mages after all mages has been freed (remember its canon) they will unite with Rivain government or if College Of Enchanters turned out to be stronger than mages order in rivain ) , the college is third/fourth-strongest order after Tevinter obviously, Nevarra death mages, and Rivain mages.

And everything is totally fine.

Leliana Divine, Mages recruited as allies

The end of the Inquisition as it had been sent shock waves through the College of Enchanters. Madam de Fer ably played on the mages' fear. Her followers united to build a new Circle - with Vivienne as its Grand Enchanter - in direct competition with the College. What the Circle lacked in numbers, they made up for in political connections; soon they were a force to be reckoned with.

Well about this stuff in trespasser it’s just vivienne stuff I guess *shrug* 

College of enchanters will always exist because like I said before so many many many times, that ever since Hero of Ferelden Era, To Kirkwall and then to Dragon 4:41/ 4:44, the canon and preferred path is to support mages and elves equality and freedom!!!!

THERE I GIVE YOU ONE, AND IT WAS MORRIGAN WHO SAID IT HERSELF.

Even a chantry sister from haven admitted that the mages looked happier and she said that she supports/give them chance to��

 SO WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?! CIRCLE IS NEVER BEEN FUCKING NEEDED! IT WAS JUST DRAKON STUPID BIGOTED MOVES TO ENSLAVED AND COLLARED MAGES AND ELVES.

Rivain mages were fine, and their society worked well with mages have their freedom Rivain trained their female mages to be seers, and seers hold important positions within Rivain government and society, oh but what happened? When the chantry fucking find out that Rivain didn’t treat their mages like shits and slave, that Rivain treated mages with respect like any other people. 

The chantry fucking send right on annulment and committed genocide against Rivain fucking mages, chantry you shit organization, Rivain will hate you more than before and I wouldn’t be surprised if the grand cathedral in Rivain will go boom too (i will support it, fuck those people) the chantry literally murdered children there and committed genocide against people of Rivain, No one will defend them in Rivain, no one. 

Codex Entry:

 When we heard of the injustices against our fellow mages at the White Spire, the Circle of Magi in Val Royeaux, I feared what was to come. Our Circle at Dairsmuid is small and isolated; it exists largely as a façade to appease the Chantry.

When the other Circles rose up, the Chantry sent Seekers across the bay from Ayesleigh to investigate. They found us mixing freely with our families, training female mages in the traditions of the seers, and denounced us as apostates. Perhaps they thought we were spineless robes who could be intimidated with a little bloodshed. Before I was first enchanter, I was the daughter of Captain Revaud, of the Felicisima Armada. I know how to plan a battle.They brought with them a small army of templars. We fought. And we might have won. But they invoked the Right of Annulment, with all the unrelenting brutality that allowed. 

It is their right to put screaming apprentices to the sword, burn our "tainted" libraries, crush irreplaceable artifacts under their heels, tear down the very walls of our home. 

No mage has the right to disagree. We of the Dairsmuid Circle wait now, behind barricades. I have sent word to our brother and sister mages of this outrage. When they breakthrough, we will not die alone.—Final journal entry of First Enchanter R

Whoaa look at the chantry and templar, casually committed genocide because they are ass hole who cannot accept that they are wrong, maybe they should accept those different nations have different cultures and traditions? Hmmm, maybe templar and chantry should accept that people are not a mother fucking weapon and slaves to be used and imprisoned since they discovered their magic, chantry and Templar  should learn when to stop, and they should learn that they didn’t know shit and doesn’t want to know shits about spirits? self-righteous much? 

Circle system, templar system, and chantry system cannot be saved because it’s just awful, those systems systematically oppressed and abused people, and we all know that time and time again YOU CANNOT KEEP PEOPLE OPPRESSED AND ENSLAVED FOREVER, THEY WILL REBEL AND SOONER OR LATER THEY WILL WIN THEIR FREEDOM AND THE OLD SYSTEM WILL BE BURNED TO DUST.

No matter how you tried change the circle/templar system, it will always be prone to corruption, because the system put templar above mages, and when someone have more legal immunity and power above other people, then abuses of authority will always happen, hey....LOOK AT COPS IN OUR WORLD.

if anyone tries to prevent other people from being equal and free just like any outer people there who have privileges and advantages, holy shit you are horrible, that’s a shitty bigoted view. 

BEFORE INQUISITION WAS EVEN REBUILT, MYTHAL AND MORRIGAN PREDICTED THAT THERE WILL BE GREAT CHANGES COMING, MORRIGAN PREDICTED THERE WILL BE A HERALD OF CHANGES IN THEDAS. 

They were talking about The Inquisitor who will completely turn Thedas upside down and changed systems that Thedas know it with better ones. 

SO why even bother to fucking keep an old system that doesn’t work and very oppressive and it was designed to imprison and enslaved people? 

okay, listen here you little templar- oh I mean Ex-Templar, because templar order of the south is just gone forever  ( who the hell wanted to be a templar again after people knew how dangerous lyrium could be? Especially after they saw lumbering red templar ABOMINATION, *not sorry they are really ugly bastard* Wrecking havoc all across Thedas 

3.MAGE FREEDOM AND DESTRUCTION OF TEMPLAR ORDER IS A GOOD THING FOR EVERYONE AND FOR THEDAS! 

Let me explain it to ya! 

1. Mages won their freedom means, no more tranquil, there would be no more long-suffering half walking, half living person who’s cursed in the emotionless body (well at least in the south) 

2. Mages could finally raise their own children, have family, married without fear and they don't have to run away from templar and chantry if they want to marry someone, mages children who were taken forcefully from their parents could finally meet their parents again, you don't want kids who were kidnapped from their family since a young age to be reunited with a family who loves them and misses them so much? Holy shit that’s monstrous.

3. Mage Orphan who has no relatives/family/home/ or friends to return could stay with College of Enchanters with other mages.

4. No more children will be kidnapped from the parents, no more mother who will lose their mage baby again because the templar and chantry ripped their baby away from their arms, never again.

5. New Generations of Mages kids who never have to endure torture and abuses in the circle, they can grow up in a safe and happy environment with their family or with the college.

6. Mages actively participated in society, and they can invent a great many things for Thedas modernization and advancement, remember Zither? He’s a mage and he uses his magic to play in a band, imagine the possibilities of Thedas technology-magic advancement with unrestrained magic, boi based on the newest leak, it seems like Arlathan was a magical cyberpunk empire. 

7. As a free citizen, many mages abilities/ skill can be implemented for different kinds of jobs, hey remember Lysas who wanted to be a mage farmer? Agriculture in Thedas could be improved with magic, Medication, and medical studies could be greatly modernized with magic, not to mention fashion, opera/plays, and music, hell even professional chef jobs will be much easier with magic, The inquisitor used telekinesis/spell to fixes broken bridges, and lit a veil fire are another example that magic could be used for mundane stuff and not just for

8. College of Enchanters definitely would be a steadfast ally for The Inquisition and The inquisitor, and not to mention that the Inquisition new operations area would be in the north/Tevinter, mages would be able to help greatly.  9. With templar order gone forever in southern Thedas, then there will be no more people who are force feed lyrium and suffer from lyrium addiction to the point they become a beggar because they wasted all of their coins for lyrium. 10. So mages now are free, no more circle, then what’s the point of templar or seeker anymore? Actually Seeker, circle and templar are never needed, then how southern Thedas  should handle with magic related crime or just crime in general, well I’ts easy, you see mages guard in Tamriel world? You know those guards in Skyrim? Or guard/law enforcer in Warcraft world who use magic? With mages free they also can work as guards

Why templar and chantry bootlicker literally believed in The chantry fearmongering false propaganda about mages and magic? It’s like medieval Vatican bullshit! fearmongering about technology and ‘sin’, fearmongering about spirit and magic? 

We live in the modern era! So stop believing chantry propaganda! 

Stop living as if its the 10th centuries, don’t keep clinging on the awful terrible system and it’s past, dude, see the future in front of you, and  try to be positive about progressive changes. You know what happened to a world who refused to change? Yeah man look at Anor Londo, everything rot there.  And have we ever heard about terrible accident that was caused by mages from College of Enchanters? Or by any mages at all? NO ONE EVER CONFIRMED THAT FREE MAGES OF THE SOUTH WRECKED HAVOC ALL ACROSS THEDAS, BECAUSE THE FREE MAGES DIDN’T DO ANYTHING AT ALL. AND THE MAGES HAS BEEN FREE FOR TWO YEARS! COLLEGE OF ENCHANTERS HAS BEEN OPERATING FOR TWO YEARS WITHOUT ANYONE ENSLAVED AND JAILED THEM  Hey man, i gave you straight fact that mages being free is the best choice to support, and facts that nothing bad happened with mages being free, so your theory and your fear (that actually is just wrong, and it’s sounds kinda like paranoia to be honest Persecution is really stupid, that’s why it’s called persecution in the first place. HA!  

ANDERS WAS, RIGHT!

‘Terrorist’ is a term that can be overused and utilized by people in power to demean and demonized freedom fighter/Resistance movement against tyranny.

  https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/is+anders+terrorist%3F

There’s fuck tons examples of people who were falsely accused as terrorists by tyrannical power to labeled them as a danger and to demonize them, while ‘the terrorist’ who fight for equality and freedom were demanding their people to be treated like a human, and they wanted equal rights. 

 examples: 

[ I am an Indonesian btw, so I knew personally some stuff about dictator and dictatorship government]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgwS_FMZ3nQ&ab_channel=PhilosophyTube

 https://www.britannica.com/event/resistance-European-history

https://www.thejakartapost.com/academia/2020/09/07/long-road-to-see-justice-over-munirs-murder.html

As an Indonesian woman, our people were oppressed by many European nations, from Dutch To British to French and Portuguese, our nations were stripped and reduced to mere colonies of European powers, our people were enslaved in their own lands, woman raped and children murdered, then after Dutch leave, because Hitler almost sunk their nation during WWII, Japan fucking invaded our land and then enslaved us again! 

Japan lost the world war alongside with its axis allies, YAAY! We are free, but wait, the Dutch Empire was such a baby they wanted their ‘toys’ , they fucking demanded the allies to helped them invaded Indonesia again because in the eye of Dutch Empire we are nothing but their slaves to be milked dry and taken advantages of, but we fought back! And now all Indonesian people from children to the elderly are free!

Did Indonesian people won their freedom and built their nation with being subservient and asked nicely? 

FUCK NO, blood was spilled and heads were cut, a lot of head, but at least now generations upon generations of Indonesian people will never taste the brutality of slavery and how does it feel to be enslaved. Our first president was considered as a menace and a terrorist by Dutch Royalty, he was imprisoned in isolation but managed to escape over and over again! 

|

But wait, if any person who rebelled against the government regardless of their intentions can be labeled as a terrorist *gasp* IS THAT MEAN GEORGE FUCKING WASHINGTON WAS A TERRORIST?! Apparently, by British Empire standards, he was.

 The guy and his friends waged a war against the crown, because British Empire keep treated American colony like shit, from the perspective of King George, Washington was a piece of shit who kept ruined his country and his colonies, but boi Americans would be angry if someone called Washington a terrorist right? Because for them, Washington's struggle and rebellion were righteous. 

YOU CAN’T SIMPLY USE THE LABEL OF ‘TERRORIST’ TO CONDEMN ANDERS AND HIS ACTIONS WITHOUT EVEN UNDERSTAND HIS MOTIVE.

Because if you keep doing then, in your perspective every single freedom fighter who rebelled against cruelty and tyranny should be condemned? 

We are talking about what is a ‘terrorist’ here, and if you want to label someone as a terrorist then you have to read their manifesto, understand their motive, try to hear what they wanted to say, and understand the core of ideas behind their rebellion. 

Here’s the thing, will you call the Stonewall riot as an act of terrorism? ( i presume from your blog description you are a supporter of LGBT right? ) 

What about Joachim Ronnenberg? A man who leads a daring raid against Nazi Germany nuclear weapon factory had the german succeded in their efforts, we might have read devastating histories about the nuclear bomb that destroyed London like what happened to Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

From the perspective of Nazi Germany...This guy  wasis a terrorist and an enemy!

But it feels so wrong to describe freedom fighter as a terrorist right? How could we label people who resist nazi Germany as a terrorist?!

Because we know, despite the casualties, despite everything that happened, what they did was right, and they needed to fight back. 

Allies marched to Berlin was the right thing to do, American colonies rebelled despite they knew that a lot of people will die in war, but have you ever condemned the founding father and his people for their rebellion? Or argued that it wasn’t necessary for them to rebelled. Soekarno wars and rebellion against dutch colonists and invaders cannot be condemned, because objectively, no one should support slavery and colonization of other nations. 

French people were so sick and tired of their nobilities and royalties bullshit to the point they cut off their own monarch head, but they were right, because French Monarchy was corrupt and incompetent, while nobles and royalties were feasting and drinking as if there’s no tomorrow, poor people in French can’t even afford bread. 

Trans and Gay people who fight back and demonstrated against injustice was right, the woman who demonstrated and rioted against the oppressive system and patriarchy was right.

WE KNEW DEEP DOWN THEIR CAUSE ARE NOT EVIL, OR CONDEMNABLE, THEIR CAUSES ARE OBJECTIVELY RIGHT! 

But what if it were someone like Adolf Hitler who hmmm rebelled against the Weimar Republic, back before his raises to power around 1920-1923, I’m sure that you are familiar with his Beer Hall Putsch, when he held 14 mass meetings in Germany, for the nazi it was a historical moment, ‘a glorious resistance against the weak and incompetent Weimar Republic’

For his supporter it was glorious, but despite their best efforts to convinced themselves that they were right, WE KNEW HE WAS NOT RIGHT, Nazi was god awful.

What is the core idea of nazism? (I'm going to compare it with socialism/communism because some people keep saying that communism is just like nazi, and it's absolutely wrong) 

https://www.britannica.com/topic/communism/Marxian-communism

https://www.britannica.com/event/Nazism

They are very different. Ya see despite some people who keep yelling that communist is just nazism by any other name. ( and I’m not a communist) 

Adolf Hitler might see himself as a savior, a martyr, and his party also people who supported him

richard spencer, see himself as a ‘liberator’ and voice of white people, but behind all of his fucking bullshit, his core ideas are just Naziism, he is a nazi, Richard Spencer is a white supremacist so does any other alt-right edge lord on the internet who insisted that they are not nazi, despite the fact they fucking followed nazi ideologies and practiced hatred ( btw nazi ideology is based on white supremacist and eugenic ideologies too, so what’s the difference really?” Nazi is white supremacists and white supremacists will always be a nazi) 

Alright and how all of it ties back to Anders and mage rebellion, you might ask, ‘why did you write about histories lessons that I already knew about?’ 

Well templar child, it’s all lead back 

TO THE CORE OF ANDERS IDEAS AND MANIFESTO AND WHY HIS IDEOLOGIES/BELIEVES AND MAGES REBELLION WAS ON THE FREAKING RIGHT SIDE. 

I wrote that fucking long-ass paragraphs so people will be able to differentiate the righteous kind of rebellion (or ‘terrorism’ from the perspective of the power/oppressors) and the god-awful kind of rebellion/terrorism.  

Because instead of listening and learning about what anders wanted, some people are often so fixated on the semantic of the word ‘terrorist’ and got too distracted by that stupid chantry explosion. THE CHANTRY EXPLODED IS THE SAME KIND OF THING IF HITLER OR STALIN’S OFFICE too  

People died? Yeah so does people who died during USA war against British Empire, was it terrible that people died? Yeah it was terrible but just like what i wrote before, the rebellion had to happened. And you said that he killed hundreds? Huh the numbers was never 100% confirmed because i don't think Isabela count the bodies, and second we cannot be sure about numbers of the casualties, because we never really see  ALL them in the first place. And actually arent Hero of Ferelden, Hawke and Inquisitor killed SO MANY PEOPLE? What about The Dragonborn? No to mention that in their journey they also destroyed private and public property and killed so many god damn animals to the point they could have been the reason why some species of animals are endangered.  And no one ever protest or raised a fuss when heroes killed tons of people.  Arent templar and chantry also killed and tortured so many people? What about mages who were killed or made tranquil for the past 1000 years? What about mages who committedcommited suicide like Orsino friend who locked herself in a closet then set herself on fire? Because she no longer can’t stand living in Kirkwall Circle prison? What about Anders friends who often committedcommited suicide because what templar did to them and that lead to severe depression? What about mages and elves who were hunted down and killed just because they escaped from their circle prison, they were killed by order of the chnatry and templar cut them down with their sword? What about Elves of Dales who died because Orlais wanted to expand its fucking territoryterrtotry and justified their racial superiority? Chantry and templar supported that. What about Karl who asked Anders to killed him because he preferred to die rather than be a tranquil again? Or captured by templar again? TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY COMMITED MORE CRIMES FOR THE PAST 1000 YEARS MORE THAN ANY PERSON DID, THE TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY MURDERED, ENLSAVED, TORTURED AND IMPRISON PEOPLE ALSO SUPPORTED GENOCIDE FOR 1000 YEARS!  IF WE CALCULATED NUMBERS OF PEOPLE WHO DIED BY THE CHANTRY ORDER AND TEMPLAR SWORDS, IT’S MORE THAN FREAKING MILLIONS!  ANDERS DID WHAT HE DID TO FREE THE MAGES AND FUTURE MAGES CHILDREN, SAME THING WITH FIONA  AND THE MAGES WHO REBELLED TO FREE THEMSELVES AND  FOR THE FUTURE OF MAGES, THEY ALSO REBELLED FOR FUTURE MAGES FREEDOM, THEY REBELLED FOR THE FREEDOM OF PEOPLE (because unlike what noodle and chantry said and spread, mages are PEOPLE!) so what are you saying again? HUH ? what is your justification? What is your defense? CHANTRY AND TEMPLAR CRIMES CANNOT BE DEFENDED!   If you justified Templar and chantry crimes then THE EVANURIS AND TEVINTER and the stupid qun ideals  can be justified too? From OBJECTIVE perspective Anders ideology WAS RIGHT! HE AND THE MAGES BELONG WITH THE RIGHTEOUS REBELS. Let’s compare chantry/templar mentality and moral vs mages and elves believes and pursuit of freedom. 

Let’s see examples of chantry/templar mentality based on evidence and popular opinion in Thedas that was forced by The chantry to people head.

1. The interpretation of chant of light that mages and nonhuman are abhorred by the maker, and they are ‘evil’ and corrupt’ i must remind you that MODERN and RELEVANT andrastianism in modern Thedas, has twisted whatever Andraste said and they strayed so far away from what andraste possibly could have wanted. 

What if Maferath Betrayal was not based on maliciousness? Or not just based on maliciousness? What if Andraste was truly a mage? The chantry lied about Shartan, the chantry fucking lied about Ameridan, if there’s one IRONIC TRUTH about the chantry, they lied, they twisted story and histories for their political power and their gains.

the whole ‘magic must serve man and not rule over him’ was purposely misinterpreted to fucking justify drakon fucking fanfic holy book, and his campaign to conquer the rest of Thedas. And the chant verses were twisted as a stupid and terrible justification to demonize and enslaved mages and elves in circle towers. 

In a nutshell that chant actually said that magic is a gift that should not be used for terrible deeds. But andrastian changed the meaning and twisted their own prophet words to enslave and oppressed southern mages.

2. The chantry believes about Everything that related to the fade/spirits/ or demon are dangerous and inherently evil, I ALWAYS LAUGHED MY ASS OFF, whenever templar/chantry/andrastian/non mages spouting hateful shits about the fade and spirits, it’s incredibly ironic, because there’s an implication that ALL PEOPLE who were not made by Titans (dwarves was made by titan) were spirits from the fade who ‘created body from the earth’ after they descended to the material world.

The evanuris, first of elven people, Solas and his people were spirits, it can be safely assumed that modern elves, humans and qunari in their truest form are spirits as well. 

 I think during his personal quest, All New Faded forFor Her, Aka The Dreadwolf Fen’harel, Solas has explained the truth about what human, elves and qunari truly are and what is their true form would be once they are died ( if they are not a remarkable person then they will simply be lost to the fade ) 

Besides it’s the chantry who spread hateful and ignorant propaganda about evil of spirits/demons, the fact that chantry spread such misinformed propaganda and derailed hates of the fade and spirit into people mind actually is one of the reasons why demons and unwilling possession as modern thedas know it exists, I know Cole explained that  spirit who crossed from the fade to the world was simply traumatized by their journey, the veil hurt them ( we can blame Solas for that) rules in the material world is just confusing, the earth and it’s mostly inflexible and unchanging rules confused them.

But if The fade can be bend and shaped by powerful dreamer/mages/ dreams and believes of people. That means...Demons were also created by The chantry ignorant and hateful propaganda. If many people believed that spirits are dangerous or ‘they are demon’, that spirits and the fade are scary then that’s how they will manifest.

The fade and spirit can be influenced by people's collective beliefs and perceptions. That’s mean it also The chantry and their dogmatic backward propaganda that made spirit/demon as we know it today, I mean for some reason Cole called himself a ‘demon’? While the boy was never corrupted nor twisted from his true nature, i think it’s because people perception of him and spirit.  The chantry dogmatic believes backfired on their own face. rule about 

3. Blind devotion to Orlais Chantry, theThe chantry foundation was made of bones upon bones and blood, emperor kordilius drakon butchered many cults and stamped out any non-andrastian religion or branch of andrastianism that didn’t conform to his cult believes so he can establish his cult of andraste as the dominant religious power in southern thedas or thedas in general. 

The Daughters of Song 

Wine. Music. Poetry. And the wanton and frenzied indulgence of carnal fancies. These things characterized the hedonistic cult known as the Daughters of Song. Calling them an order of the faithful lends them a legitimacy they do not deserve. The daughters (and sons, though they saw themselves also as "daughters") celebrated Andraste's holy union with the Maker in almost every way imaginable. And it was only the "holy union" they venerated. Andraste's life, her war, her teachings, and her sacrifice were blithely ignored.

At its height, the Daughters of Song numbered in the thousands. They maintained a stronghold in a village called Virelay, in the Fields of Ghislain. Virelay saw a yearly event during which the Daughters of Song paraded carven images of the "Maker's Glory" through the square.The Daughters of Song were wiped out by the righteous forces of Emperor Drakon during his campaigns to unite all of Orlais. When the emperor's forces sacked the village, the Daughters would not arm themselves and were either killed or captured. The village was destroyed, and the cult never recovered.—From Before Andrastianism: the Forgotten Faiths by Sister Rondwyn of Tantervale

HA! Blithely ignored her fucking war and ‘sacrifice’ is much better than using the story of andraste life as propaganda and tools to conquer, murder, enslaved, and wiped out groups of people who didn’t buy to your shit.

The daughter of the songs was not a cult of a sex-crazed hedonist, they were another group of pacifist andraste cult who didn’t do anything wrong at all (seems like they were peaceful, they didn’t even willing to armed themselves when Drakon butchered their people) and they just wanted to be left alone to their own device, but of course Drakon,  that egotistical bastard who sees himself as a martyr and narcissistic self-proclaimed holy man, so he put any people who didn’t want to listen to his bullshit to sword. 

The chantry and Orlais using their god, their prophet words, and their religion as a bludgeoning tool to conquer and forcefully converted people, the foundation of modern andrastianism religion was based drakon totalier philosophy his ambitions to rule all of Thedas. 

Ironically if there are people who smeared and desecrate andraste and the maker, its their followers. 

This kind of religious militant mentality has ledlead to people justification of exalted march, because they thought that they were doing it for the maker, they believed that the march is the maker works, anyoneany one who supported exalted march were so convinced that they were right to spilled so many blood and butchered so many people for their religious zealotry (and political ambition of their rulers but eh peasant rarely know anything about what happened in winter palace right?) 

if you supported exalted march of dales or exalted march against mages then.... As a Muslim i just want to say, what’re the differences between exalted march and Christian crusade? And we know that Crusade was a waste of resources and lives  or ISIS ambition for expansionism? 

Military and Religion is a dangerous and scary combination. And I can’t comprehend why any modern human could be so thirsty and horny to destroy other people's nations for their religion and their interpretation of their religion. and let me remind you again, the chantry and templar supported this mentality and often using the maker as a reason and justification of their terrible deeds.  The chantry refusal to acknowledge and respect different kind of andrastian religion and their outright rejection of different religion lead them to wiped out pre-chantry andrastian cult aka their own brethren and destruction of The dales, destruction and deaths of so many dalish clan, prejudice and bigotry against qunari and dwarves. and we don’t have to talk about what happen to old god religion worshipper. Y’know sounds like dark age church and their obsessions to stamped out any kind of ‘heresy’ , you like that shit? You supported it? EWWWW. D:  4. Templar and Chantry brainwashed people to be hateful bigot, I don’t care about any kind of justification or ‘positive deeds’ that andrastianism has done, a thousandthousands years of proofs and facts has proven that most of the time they spreading bigotry and hate for their own political power and gains, the chantry instilled intolerance on people mind and using terror as a way to control population of Thedas, people except for the ruling class are live in uncertainty and fear, we might see peasant in thedas just living their simple life, but if the temple and chantry find out that they are doing anything ‘suspicious’ or they hide their relatives who can use magic then that’s it, their life will end by chantry order and Templar sword, not to mention that the chantry bigoted cheating also lead to  these kind of situation, remember  that mage who were murdered in the storm coast by villager? She died because the chantry brainwashed people to hates on anything non-human and to hate on mages. NOW THE MAGES, let’s take a look at the mages and elves. 1.The mages and elves just wanted to be free and to be treated as an equal in society, not as a walking weapon to be enslaved and imprisoned and not as a servant/slave to non-mage human (or in tevinter and the qun not as a slave in general for elves and mages too who suffer under the qun ) if anyone supporting an ideology or people who deny other people rights, BASIC RIGHTS, then all of you fucktard can rot in hell. 2. Fiona, despite the chantry and Templar oppressed and enslaved her people for must I remind you again 1000 year! Fiona Was still willing to let other fraternities and other circles to vote, whenever they wanted to follow her rebellion or not, AND THE SOUTHREN MAGES CHOSE TO REBELED AND FOLLOWING HER! 3. Now mages freedom is canon, the mages now have their own government and they   rule over themselves( college of enchanters) and they never try to enslave, oppress, brutalize and hurt non mages 4. Now Briala rule in Orlais, she  could help to keep:  1. Remember that mage who died in Gaspard on leash and preventing him from invading other nations, not to mention that she definetly

4. 

Oh, Solas where are thou ~

Now about Solas and the veil, we might speculate to our heart content about Solas plans and what he might do in the future, but to be honest, truth to be told, NO ONE EXACTLY KNOW what is his actual plan for the evanuris, for the blight, for titans and to tear m down the veil. We only have morsels of information about his plans from trespasser, and Tevinter night (also from the leaks).  Who knew maybe Solas plan will ironically save the world? Doomed it? Saved some people? Only doomed half of the world? Will the world end? Or survive?  Now i want all magic to come back but without have to kill millions of people in Thedas, Because it will solve non-mages vs mages problem, everybody will be mages and the centuries of problems will be solved, not to mention that with the minuscule amounts of magic Thedas physical world now have, people seemed to slowly devolving, being cut from magic of the fade is not only horrible for mages but also for non- mages (Because the fade is the sources of power and life itself, not to mention that Solas referred to it as ‘The sea of souls’ in Tevinter Nights)  Here’s the thing, with or without Solas even waking up from his long sleep, i think The veil will be destroyed either way, here’s the evidences that supported my theories (But i still have no idea about What exactly will happen just like many other people out there ) Sandal Prophercy:  “Sandal: One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.”  Grand Duchess Florianne: “ A great CHANGE  is coming for all of us lord seeker lucius:  “ We created a decaying world, and  fought to preserve it even as it crumbled, we had to be stopped” Kieran:  “My mother is the inheritor of the next age” Mythal: WE HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT WHAT SOLAS PLAN IS, what is he going to do with other evanuris? What bout the titans? What about mythal? and ghilan’nain creatures that has been slowly emerge from the sea? What about the blight and darkspawn? I feel  like Solas wouldn’t be the true next main villain, he wouldn’t be Corypheus 2.0, why? Because unlike the blight or Corypheus, Solas have important relationship with The inquisitor, while most any other fucking villain have little to no relationship with heroes. So here Solas quote from Tevinter Nights: His look pinned her “I have no choice.What  I am doing will save this world, and those like you- the elves who are still remain-may find it better, when  it is done.” Solas might call himself “Prideful, hot headed and foolish.”  but he’s not a fucking idiot, he wouldn’t just tear down the veil  just to bing elven glory back,  there must be something bigger behind his motives, like the evanuris and well titans I don’t want to say much about the possible consequences of what might Solas  do, because frankly we don’t know anything about it. It is possible tho that the veil destruction will be the same thing just  like the fifth blight, mage and elves vs Templar and chantry/human war, Corypheus rises and fall  and the fucking explosion of both Kirkwall chantry and temple of sacred ashes,  it just going to happen, it is what fucking it is man. To quote Steve Jobs “One more thing” Patrick  fucking Weekes and their wife supporting mage and mage rights MEANWHILE... if you could live anywhere in Thedas, where would you live? PATRICK: I would live in Rivain. Because Rivain is not as hung up on magic, because they have seers who let themselves get possessed... they also have a relatively peaceful relationship with the Qun. And they're kind of a melting pot and multicultural... they're a place where a lot of different cultures come together. And also? Beachfront property. KARIN: I was just gonna say... if you need further justification, they get to say, "I want to live on the beach."

Yeah, that was a really good one. Okay, moving on: Mages or Templars? PATRICK and KARIN (in unison): Mage

http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/05/castles-fennecs-and-player-engagement.html http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/04/chatting-with-weekeses-part-3-romances.html

[chrismerle]

FOR THE FANFIC ASK MEME THING (I finally picked beyond 'just... all of them?'): F, I, K, M, N, Q, S, T, V, W, X, and Y. WHICH ISN'T ALL OF THEM it's just... several...

(from here)

F. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I’m working on a Final Fantasy XV AU, because that’s basically all I write for FFXV; I really love the building blocks it gave me, but I don’t like a lot of the architecture. Anyway, conceptually it’s a fairly standard ‘what if Ardyn wasn’t a villain?’ thing, and on the off chance it ever sees the light of day, it will be called There Is a Crack in Everything.

This is a really early scene.

Regis stepped into his study, and Ardyn scarcely gave him time to close the door before wondering, with a languid sort of ease, “For how long have I been Adagium?” He sounded as if the word tasted foul.

“Longer than I can be certain of,” Regis sighed, taking his seat at his desk, across from Ardyn.

“And I’ll be able to relax for...how long?” Ardyn wondered pleasantly, leaning an elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his hand. “Before those lovely toy soldiers of yours try to haul me back to my stone box, that is.”

For a moment, Regis was quiet. For a moment, Regis thought of his father. Mors would have reacted the instant he realized who Ardyn was, and Regis wondered how many of the Glaive would have died and what sort of enemy they would have created.

He thought of his son, just a few weeks old. Already, Regis knew he did not want to teach Noctis to be that sort of king.

He did not want to be his father.

“You may stay here, should you wish it,” Regis answered at last.

Ardyn blinked, slowly. His expression didn’t change, but his words seemed carefully picked for carelessness. “And no one will wonder at another of the bloodline suddenly appearing?” he asked. “Or am I forbidden from showing off?”

“We’ll say you’re my half-brother,” Regis answered before he was even fully aware he’d come up with a solution. “It won’t surprise many.”

Ardyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully eager to dub me family.”

“You already are family,” Regis reasoned. “It seems it’s time someone finally treated you as such.”

That, at last, seemed to unmoor Ardyn. His posture went rigid for a moment as his gaze went distant. Twice, he opened his mouth to respond, before closing it without saying a word.

It took him only a moment to gather his composure, though, before he cleared his throat. “I have to say, this is the most elaborate method anyone has ever used to call me a bastard. I suppose that alone means it’s worth putting up with it.”

Regis laughed before he could help it.

I like it for a handful of reasons. For one thing, I’ve successfully weaponized it (and a few other snippets of the same WIP) to make my friend Ala emotional. For another, I didn’t really see this dynamic between Regis and Ardyn coming. It just sort of happened while I was typing, but I liked it when it showed up. It felt natural for an Ardyn who hadn’t been driven mad by turning countless people into daemons, but who was nevertheless not the same gentle healer after 2,000 years of isolation.

I. Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I got paid for years, plural, to write really bad porn about people who could turn into animals fucking. I have no shame left. I’ve had no shame since the first time someone offered to pay me $500 for smut.

K. What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

It is, again, related to FFXV. I wrote If the Ring Fits and Backed in Silver years ago, and ever since, I’ve tossed around the idea of writing another sequel for Ignis.

The only issue is that my idea for it would forcibly make him realize that the Prompto that had been in their world was not actually their Prompto, and had not been for over a decade. And it would be a conflict he’d have to grapple with through the entire fic, trying to decide whether to force that same replacement on someone in a different world or to just endlessly keep hopping from one world to another because he can’t return to his.

I’ve never actually written any of it, and the concepting never got beyond Ignis’s revelation about Prompto. But considering If the Ring Fits was 10,000 words long and Backed in Silver was 20,000, I can only imagine what sort of behemoth it would be.

M. Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Like, WIPs, or things that I’ve pondered but haven’t started working on?

I’ve got a few WIPs. There’s the aforementioned non-villainous Ardyn AU. I’ve got another FFXV fic that’s been on hiatus on AO3 for legitimately over three years, and the next chapter is very nearly finished and I just...can’t seem to get there. I’ve got a Persona 5 new game+ fic in the works. That one’s fully plotted out already, and just the outline is like 15 pages long. Based on how the first chapter is going, each chapter will probably be anywhere from 10-20,000 words long. And I’ve got a melancholy immediately-post-season-two Mandalorian one shot in the works, spawned almost entirely so I could make Mando say ‘fuck.’ I know no one says fuck in Star Wars, but I don’t care. I will not say kriff and no one can make me. And I’ve got the Dragon Age uber fic that I’ve just sort of been plugging away at since Inquisition was released and none of it has ever seen the light of day, unless you count me shoving a few snippets at Siobhan.

Oh, and I’m rewriting an older Mass Effect fic.

For things that I’ve thought about but haven’t really worked on, they’re mostly more Dragon Age and FFXV. The “canon” stories for the two timelines not covered in the uber fic, and more AU nonsense spawned from ItRF and BiS.

N. Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Like, finish one of MY fics? No. I would bite them if they tried. Hell, I love you and I would bite you if you tried.

Just, in general? At this point I would take a monkey paw-style deal to get someone to finish Home.

(for anyone who isn’t Jim, Home is a nuTrek Jim/Spock fic that I think I was in high school when it was published. I graduated from college over five years ago.)

Q. How do you feel about collaborations?

Mixed feelings. I’ll take feedback, assuming I’ve offered the mic for it. I’ll prattle on about whatever I’ve got cooking. I’ll ask for ideas or suggestions. But when it comes to the actual writing of it, I’m a control freak. So, people are welcome to help me gather up the building blocks, but I’m gonna wind up doing the actual building myself.

S. Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Overly elaborate AUs.

T. Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

That thing fandom does where if they’ve decided a character has anxiety, then it does not matter how that anxiety presents itself in canon, in fanon they are a weepy, shy introvert who can hardly string a sentence together because they’ve polymorphed into a shivering puppy.

V. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Does it count if I just say I wanna rewrite a series as a whole? There’s a FrostIron series I read ages ago before the MCU made me wanna gag, and at the time I LOVED it. And then not that long ago I went back and read it again, and it felt like I was saying goodbye to it because oh my god it was unbearable.

Loki was NEVER FUCKING WRONG ABOUT ANYTHING, unless he wasn’t in the room, in which case Tony picked the slack about not ever being wrong about anything.

W. Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

More specific. Not this past Christmas, but the one before that, I was doing some Advent Drabbles for one of my roleplay blogs, so I was open to drabble suggestions anyone wanted to see. Like 70% of them were just one or two words and I’m just staring at my ask box like ‘thanks, I hate it’

(Kudos, though, to the random stranger who gave me a very specific, paragraph-long prompt for a Spider-Man (PS4) fic.)

X. A character you enjoy making suffer.

...All of them?

Y. A character you want to protect.

I guess Din Djarin.

I mean, he still falls into the above ‘all of them’ but when I make him suffer it’s more related to exploring something that happened in canon, rather than me directly causing it.

[nightmare-chaser]

Living In Interesting Times

Could everything stop happening for a few minutes? 

There are riots on the street. They are in the right but they are being attacked and murdered, because in the power’s eyes there are no right riots. The police, those we are told swore to protect us from criminals, have in fact sworn no such thing. They wield power as a weapon against those minorities they cannot stand. They dress in disguises and start violence so they have a reason to attack the peaceful.

I saw a post where a black woman said she no longer allows people to say “They did that because you’re black,” and instead corrects them to “They did that because they’re bigots.” Before I had seen that post, it had not occurred to me the difference in wording, it had not occurred to me how the blame was shifted on the daily. There is something unflinching about the response, and while I am not being attacked, I flinch still. How had I not heard?

We have a facist in the white house, except the facist is too sensitive and thinks “facist” is a strong word. He tells us anti-fascist sentiments are treason, are terrorist ideas, as he puts families in cages and calls them illegal. The cages are filled with disinfectant, flooding the air and causing burns on the people, and somehow the people will not condemn it as gas chambers, because those should have died with Hitler. Those should have died with Hitler, not been dragged into the modern era out of spite for a condemnation of the poor conditions of the victims.

We have only a few months to get the fascist out of office, or else he stays for another four years. The fascist’s name is Donald Trump, and the idea that he would ever be president was so laughable that the simpsons made a gag over how terrible he would be. When he won the presidency, his campaign staff treated it like a funeral, for he did not want the job. Why did we give the job to a fascist who did not want it? We need him out. If we do not get him out, if we must live with him killing us for another four years, then we will have to live with him appointing two more justices to the supreme court, and he will continue to kill us for many, many more.

There is a country that is about to be extinct. It’s name is Yemen and I cannot point it out on a map. My geography, my history classes have failed me. It’s been in a civil war for six years and I did not hear a peep about it. I could not tell you it’s culture or it’s people or it’s language or it’s art, and it’s dying. It’s healthcare collapsed under the strain of the pandemic and the people are starving to death. An entire country is about to die, but I cannot even watch in horror because the news is silent on it.

Can we stop living in interesting times? I heard the Greeks used to wish interesting times on another as a curse, and I understand why. I live in helpless fear as things happen miles from me that I cannot effect. I live in fear as the things nearest to me are ruled by a powerful few. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but it nearly certainly promises to be worse.

I am white. I am middle-classed. I do not fear for food or money, not right now. I am privileged and I am growing more aware of it by the day, and by the day I grow more ashamed of it. I did not make this system, but I profit from it with my mere existence and I do not know how to change it.

There was a black man shot dead by police in Atlanta, even though he was cooperative and polite. I do not know his name, and that is my own failing and a failing of the system. There was a black nurse shot dead in her own home by police, and her boyfriend is being charged for it. Her name is Breonna Taylor, but I do not know his name. There was a man named George whose last name I cannot spell whose neck was kneeled on by police until he suffocated. There are enough names of murdered black people to fill the back of a shirt in a dense paragraph of words, but I do not know them, and I do not know whether that is my personal failing or another of the system I find myself entangled in.

I learned in sociology class that society is more than the sum of it’s parts. I learned that even though we are all gears in society, society is also it’s own separate living organism. I did not understand it then, not fully. I understand it now, as I watch movements be born and gather members and fight to kill the rotten parts, as I watch things stay nearly the same anyway. Society has become a dragon to be defeated, but our knight is sickly or missing. The teeth are batons, it breathes tear gas, and it roars lies and “fake news” as it eats us alive.

There is a pandemic occurring, but the restrictions on movement and gatherings are being lifted. I wear a face mask to work to protect the customers from myself, hyperaware of how the customers do not care to protect me and will not cover their faces. Recovering from COVID-19 can leave you with conditions that you did not have before, ravaging your lungs and body until they never work quite right again. My grandmother texts me to complain that we should open faster and I’m struggling to explain to her why we cannot. The morgues in New York needed refrigerated trucks to hold the corpses in, and now we’re opening for the second wave. We did not flatten the curve, not enough. We are not prepared to open, but the facist leading us says we are and lies to our faces. 

The fascist ordered teargas and swat teams used to remove peaceful protestors from in front of a church so he could have a photograph without them ruining it. He promised us a racist and xenophobic wall built on our border, and instead built it around the white house to protect himself. He removed the qualified specialists from their positions and replaced them with bigots, then worked to make listening to specialists a political opinion instead of common sense. 

I am queer. There has been talk of how to remove gay marriage. It died quickly, at least I hope that’s what the silence means, but it existed. Poland is close to electing a leader who will outlaw queer ideaology in public places, as though love is an ideaology and not intrinsic to our being.

Is there any way we can skip this part? I’m tired and I’m scared. I’m ready for it to be tomorrow. The police defunded and public services grown, the pandemic gone and us healed, systematic racism dismantled and fascism erased. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and we’d’ve fixed everything.

That’s too simplistic. The riots have to happen. The protests, the petitions, the struggle. The deaths, the outrage, the fear. We must live through all of this if we wish to see that tomorrow, or else tomorrow is just another day to die in silence.

I am scared, though, and I am tired.

I am not doing anything. I do not know what to do. I do not know where the protests are, or when they are organized, and I do not know how to safely find out. I have no emergency contact I trust enough to tell if I go to a protest, and I am too scared to go without. I do not know how to protest, how to safely engage.

I am in college and I cannot imagine my future. I am told repeatedly that I need to decide, that every day gone is a day wasted. I am told repeatedly that I need to act, to take life by the horns and make something of myself. I am given resources to do so, but how can I? The world is going up in flames and I’m expected to choose a major and a career.

Society does not care for me. I am one more gear in it’s machine. I am one for snack for the dragon to eat. My mother tried to get me to ask for a raise at my job and did not understand that corporations do not value employees. I work minimum wage and I am disposable to the higher ups. The virus gave us extra business and I broke down crying from the stress twice. My coworkers have also cried and it is not a surprise. The corporations use us as gears and use us until we break, then they replace us with a newer model. Unions are still the bad guy in all the gossip. Our nation has a history of union busting that I am forcibly reminded of often.

The world is ending, somehow, someway. I cannot tell if what is dying is a free world, or a cage. I cannot tell if tomorrow will come with the dawn of a new golden age, or if we will all be silenced and in chains. We are living through history, and the generations after us are watching us now, and I do not know what they see. The victor will always write themself as the hero, and I don’t know what hero that distant future sees.

I saw a post by a school counselor. She said the teenagers are depressed. She said young people used to dream big, dream of being astronauts or movie stars or changing the world in a significant way. She said the teenagers of today are hesitant to say they might own a house. They are afraid to set even the lowest bar.

I should be doing more. The world is falling down around our ears, but I do nothing. The people scream in defiance and I whisper. I am afraid and I am helpless. I used to dream of being famous, when I was small. Today, I am scared of the future, and I feel small.

I spread the awareness posts to my few followers. I sign the petitions. I give donations, fives and tens to the various organizations. I play on the internet and try to forget the world outside of my room, just for a bit. The days fall through my hands like water, unused and wasted. It feels like dying.

I survive. I click another link. I watch a world die.

[devil-kindred]

Get to Know Me - raisinghellinotherworlds

Saw @pd3 do this and though I’d give it a go!

-

1. Name : Siren (it’s a pseudonym!)

2. Nationality: American

3. Age: 27

4. Birthday: January 29th

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Aquarius

6. Gender: Female

7. Sexuality: Heterosexual

More below the cut

[[MORE]]

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)

For the record this is the only recent picture of myself I like and this is about as much of my face as you’ll ever see bc I know my angles.

9. What do you/did you study?: I went to school for a Bachelors in Arts with and emphasis on Sciences but never finished it bc 1) college is expensive and 2) I don’t know what I want to do career-wise so there’s not a point in going back anymore.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: I’m a service desk associate at a department store. Something where I could deal with less people bc boy does this job push my patience sometimes.

-

11. What is your birth order?: Firstborn/Oldest.

12. How many siblings do you have?: Technically four, but only two living.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: My immediate family. My siblings are closer to each other (but they’re only two years apart) but we get along. I also have a good relationship with my parents though I’m not as close to my mom as I could be it’s hard to forget the not nice things your parent say to you as a kid.

14. How many friends do you have?: Lots though only a few I see/talk to on a regular basis.

15. Your relationship status: Single.

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Intelligent, kind, has a sense of humor.

17. Do you have a crush?: I guess.

18. When was your first kiss?: WHY *sighs* I was... 25.

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: I’ve... never been in an actual relationship? I’d like to say serious.

20. What are your deal breakers? Being rude, cheating, and treating me like a child/you know what’s best for me/someone in need of saving (new flash, i am not your princess peach/some damsel in distress. If you need to rescue someone I am not your girl).

-

21. How was your day?: It’s still early into the day and I go to work in about an hour and a half and I get to close so we’ll see!

22. Favourite food & drink: French Fries. Or anything with potatoes. I’m a fiend. And Dr. Pepper or Coffee.

23. What position do you sleep in?: On my side/stomach on the part of the bed that’s against the wall.

24. What was your last dream about?: It was... highly NSFT and no, I will not go into detail.

25. Your fears: I’m not a fan of spiders or bugs of any kind really, I hate clowns, and I don’t like thunderstorms. Or tornados.

26. Your dreams: Move, either out of state or out of the country.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: A bird, Momo.

29. What are your hobbies?: Writing, playing video games, and reading (fanfic or books)

30. Any cool places in your area?: I’m sure there are but I live in a town surrounded by corn and other farmland so... it’s anyone’s best guess.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: The other day when a customer stared at me for a solid three minutes when I explained that due to the pandemic we’re no longer offering one of our services in an effort to reduce contact.

32. What is your last regret?: That I didn’t realize the true nature of some people who I no longer speak to sooner.

33. Language/s you can speak: English, Spanish (I’m so rusty though), a little bit of French, and a teeny tiny bit of Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): I believe in my many things so yes.

35. Have any quirks?: Uh... I mess with my hair when I’m nervous? & the more nervous I get my (already high) voice gets higher and will go up several octaves the more nervous I get?

36. Your pet peeves: People in my apartment building slamming the front door all the damn time.

37. Ideal vacation: Somewhere with nice scenery and where it’s calm.

38. Any scars?: Quite a few small ones on my head from a car accident when I was just a baby (I went through a window- got a few scrapes but other than that was unharmed) and one on my hand (it’s on both sides of my hand too) from when I was toddler and got bit by a dog.

39. What does your last text message say?: “I’ll let you know when I get some gameplay posted!” I have a sideblog for casual TS4 gameplay. Was telling a friend that I was going to post new stuff soon.

40. Last 5 things from your search history: No thanks! It’s all just checking if a word is really a word and spelling anyways.

41. What’s your [Device] background?: Lockscreen is a wallpaper from FFXV ft. The Chocobros; Hope Screen is Sam & Evie.

42. What do you daydream about?: Writing mostly.

43. Describe your dream home: Decent amount of space, a library room to hold all my books... good lighting, comfy.... preferably NOT in the middle of nowhere.

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion: I am not a fan. Particularly of Christianity but everyone has their own beliefs and in that regard, to each their own. Just don’t try to convert me bc the answer is f*ck no.

45. Your personality type: INFP.

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done?: Climbed onto the roof of the shed when I was little because I got something stuck up there.

47. Are you happy with your current life?: For the most part!

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life: Gymnastics, Ballet, etc.

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49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Lots of t-shirts, jeans, shorts, flats, boots, etc.

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black or Blue.

51. How would you describe your style?: Extremely casual.

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Kinda? I really need to cut my hair because it’s gotten so long it’s annoying. But I can put up with it until it’s safe again bc pandemic. My hair is not that important I assure you.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Oh God, could I be taller? Like at least 5’3”? Which is still teeny but better than my 4’9” ass.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos?: I have 3 piercings and three tattoos (two finished, one in progress)

55. Do you get complimented often?: Maybe? I’m oblivious to the point that you could have a flashing neon sign with the compliment written on it and it would probably still go over my head.

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Biker Chic!

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Neon.

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58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with?: Blessed Be - Spiritbox.

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like: If I like a song, I like it. But if I have to pick one, I know everyone hates Despacitio. I know, ok but I really like the original version bc I like the sound. Latin music always has a fun groove to it.

60. Favourite genre?: Rock & Metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Type O Negative, Pallbearer, Ice Nine Kills. Give me all the goth rock/metal and just fun metal in general.

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Oh boy... don’t hate me but I um... don’t care too much for T Swift? And I’m not a fan of country.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5: Devil’s // Door - VCTMS, Karasu - The GazettE, Path - Apocalyptica, I Walk the Line - Halsey, Drumming Song - Florence + the Machine

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kinda play bass but I’m still learning so it’s just like... the very bare basics.

65. Do you like karaoke?: I’m very self-conscious so no.

66. Own any albums?: Yes, though majority are digital.

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Yes. I have it on for background noise in my room in which case I don’t pay attention to it, but I have XM radio in my car where I listen to Octane/Liquid Metal/Turbo.

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68. Favourite movie/series?: The Dark Knight trilogy or Hellraiser or Nightbreed.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Horror, Sci-fi, and fantasy.

70. Your fictional crush/es: Too many. Look at my OCs and their SO’s and you’ll find a bunch of them.

71. Which fictional character is you?: My friends would say Mira Jane from Fairy Tail. My bestie says Mercedes from Fire Emblem Three Houses (minus the devout part bc... I do not have nice feelings re-religion. You do you though!).

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Yes, and once again you’ll be reading for eternity. So I’ll sum it up as too many to list.

73. Favourite greek god?: Apollo.

74. A legend from where you live that you like: It’s said that before big disasters happen in the town I live in + the surrounding areas, that you’ll see a panther. Supposedly one has been seen before at least 4 different bad things that have happened over the years. I’m in the midwest though so take that as you will.

75. Do you like art?: I do but I don’t really have a favorite. ... I am kinda partial to Van Gogh though.

76. Can you share your other social media?: I have a Pinterest but since my other social media has my name (which I also share with an OC whoops. That’s what I get for being indecisive and going the first name the name generator gave me) I’d rather not. If you ask and we’re friends I’ll probably give it to you but...

77. Favourite youtubers?: I don’t really watch too many anymore but I’ve been watching a lot of jacksepticeye’s gameplay. Aside that I tend to just watch channels like PlayStation Access or Outsidexbox.

78. Favourite platform?: Instagram

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: More than I should, I’m sure.

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? Uh, if I had to list them all you’d literally be reading this for eternity. To sum it up, I mostly play RPGs/JRPGs, open-world, survival horror (my fave), and a few (emphasis on few) FPS. Favorites are (once again with a limit): Bioshock, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Until Dawn, Silent Hill 2, and Fatal Frame.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): do you know how f*cking hard this question is as someone who’s a bookworm? Ok, ok um... Gotta have a limit or I’ll never shut up... um... Three favorites: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, Horns by Joe Hill, and American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

82. Do you play board/card games?: On occasion! They’re best with bigger groups but alas, my apartment is rather small and I don’t have a lot of space for multiple people so I don’t play them often.

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? No, but it sounds fun.

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween!

85. Are you into dramas?: As in, tv dramas? Kinda? I have a friend on lived in SK for a time and got into K-dramas so I watch them with her from time-to-time when she visits.

Would you use a Death Note if you had one?: No.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Oh boy... make everyone get along, ensure everyone could live their life to the best possible, etc.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Possibly.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: I’m going with mythical instead of strictly paranormal but... a vampire!

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: As in to my body? Cremate me. To my stuff, give my books to a good home and take care of my bird.

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: Most people call me by my middle name already since I got tired of people calling me the wrong name (& I like my middle name better) and insisting my first name was actually a nickname (it’s not, it’s the same as the musician I’m named after) so if I were to eventually be bothered enough, I’d have it legally changed to my middle name.

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: I don’t know to be honest. I’m fairly happy with my life so I think I’d just not switch.

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: 🌊

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true: I took karate classes for several years, I’ve never dyed my hair, I’ve had two jobs thus far.

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95. Cold or hot?: Cold I guess? If we’re talking in reference to seasons give me cool (aka Fall).

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero because being a villain would mean I’d have to be mean to people and I can’t even pick the mean options in video games without feeling guilty so...

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: um... no? I’m not quite certain what this means but I’m going to go with no?

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: Shapeshifting!

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immortal.

[broadway-book-badger]

Let’s talk about books

Back in the day, about three years ago, I went through a phase of posting monthly write-ups of what I’d been reading on here. In these trying times there seems to be a little bit more time for reading, plus escapism and procrastination are always fun, so I though I’d share a few recommendations. There’s a few different genres (amazingly, hardly any YA fantasy), and I’ve mostly read these in the last year or so. I’ve kept my thoughts as spoiler free as I can. Read them under the cut.

1. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Everyone and their mother has read The Hunger Games. I have read The Hunger Games before. But, a couple of weeks ago, I reread the trilogy for the first time since my first reading, which was around Christmas 2011. And to be perfectly honest, these books hold up! I think maybe it’s because I read so many not so good dystopian YA novels after I first read the Hunger Games that I thought less of this trilogy, but I don’t know. This is a solid series. If you’ve never revisited it (or if you’ve never read it at all), now could be the time! I love the fast paced writing - once things kick off, they do not stop and I burned through the whole trilogy in about three days. The world building is decent, and it doesn’t back away from some pretty heavy stuff. I remember certain scenes being much more gory, but that’s probably just because I’ve read much worse in the past 9 years. Also being older, I appreciate Katniss as a character a lot more. I remember 13-year old me getting annoyed, but now I kind of like that she is allowed to be confused about her feelings and struggle with what she’s been through and generally be a pawn rather than a flawless 16-year old rebel commander as seen elsewhere. The love triangle also isn’t as bad as I remember, although I was reminded of my own love for Peeta. Some people complain that he’s boring, but I think he’s a lovely boy.

2. The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

I’ve been wanting to read this since I saw someone on the internet pitch this as something along the lines of “The queer dragon fantasy epic you’ve been waiting for.” I did a lot of waiting for it to come out in paperback, because it is an absolute behemoth over 800 pages, and while incredibly pretty, the hardback was just too big. It was, however, well worth the wait. I haven’t read a ton of adult fantasy, because a lot of it is so big, but this was a good place to start, because the writing style is pretty easy to read and also its a standalone, so the story is told by the end, it’s not the first of like 6 800 page bricks. While the plot and the characters and the love story between a queen and her handmaiden who’s a badass sorceress in disguise are all enjoyable, the thing I loved the most was the worldbuilding. I love the time and effort that was spent developing the religions and mythologies of all the different kingdoms and how they clash in ways such as different takes on the legend of St George and the dragon, and the contrast Western dragons as monsters to be slain by knights vs benevolent Eastern dragons that kind of echoes real world mythology. I saw one review of this describing ‘Priory’ as ‘a feminist successor to Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones.’ While I think you could definitely say that that is the case, I would say that equally being more feminist than either of those titles is not a particularly high bar, given that there are only about 5 named women in the whole of Middle Earth, and most of the women in Game of Thrones are assaulted and brutalized for no good reason. 

3. Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

This book made me so happy, you have no idea. An enemies to friends to lovers story about the son of the first female American president and the Prince of England, that reads kind of like fanfiction but in the best possible way is exactly what the world needs right now. Everything about this book is delightful, from the characters to their relationships to the pseudo-alternate history that its set in. I think the thing that increased my enjoyment of this is the fact that the main characters are in their early twenties. It seems to me that most protagonists, regardless of genre are either 16 or pushing 30, and while I still enjoy their stories, there was just something infinitely more relatable about a character the same age as me. If anyone knows of any more books with characters in this age range, please let me know, because they seem few and far between. Back to this, however, I think I was grinning like an idiot through most of this book. I laughed, I may have shed a little happy tear, I fully recommend.

4. The Broken Earth Trilogy by N K Jemisin

Another foray into adult fantasy, this is such a good series. The books aren’t too long and the writing style is easy to digest, but it is DARK. It’s set in a world which experiences apocalyptic natural disasters every couple of centuries. There are people with powers that can help control this, but they’re super oppressed and treated as evil, rather than potential saviours. The story follows a woman searching for her missing daughter in the wake of an apocalypse, a young girl coming into her powers and others, and it is so well done. It’s such a unique and diverse world, and there are some great reveals as to why the story is being told the way that it is, as well as interesting takes on things like living vs surviving and systems of oppression.

5. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

An aging and reclusive Hollywood star decides that the time has come to share her life story to an unknown journalist and it’s amazing. This is so well done that its easy to forget while reading that Evelyn Hugo is not a real person and you cannot go and watch her films. I first heard about this book and thought it sounded interesting, as I have a love of Old Hollywood musicals. I then promptly forgot all about it, until I heard other people on the internet talking about how it had a bisexual protagonist, which both reminded me about it and made me want to read it more and here we are. Evelyn Hugo had a hell of a life, with seven husbands and another great love story, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about it. This book does a great job at showcasing both the glamour and less glamorous underside of the era, as well as the lengths people are willing to go. It also had me sobbing at 1am because I couldn’t put it down, and if that isn’t the mark of a quality book, I don’t know what is!

6. Circle of Friends by Maeve Binchy

A coming-of-age story following two childhood friends as they move from their small town to Dublin for University in the 1950s. Quite a chunky book, but a lovely story and I found it read pretty quickly. As I was saying about Red, White and Royal Blue, it’s rare to find books about characters of this sort of age range. Equally rare I think are books with a university setting - the only others I can think of are Fangirl, the Magicians and the Secret History - any recommendations, let me know! I enjoyed the characters growing and finding their confidence and independence, as well as the period setting. I also greatly appreciated the ending, in terms of the main character’s love interest, as it’s something that you don’t often see in this type of book. I may have to read more by this author.

7. Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton

This is one of those books that I just happened to read at the perfect time in my life, and for that reason it means a lot to me. I read it at the very end of 2018, when I was feeling really down and not myself, and something in there just spoke to me and maybe gave a little perspective. I don’t read much non-fiction and this is just the memoirs of someone as she navigates her teens and twenties. I can see why someone might not like it, but I really did. There’s some relatable content in here. As the book went on and I read all these parts about bad dates and third-wheeling friends, I kept waiting for the part where she said, ‘but then I met so-and-so and it all changed’ but that NEVER happened. By the end of this book, this woman is still single and praising all the types of non-romantic love in her life, and that I think is a bit of a revelation. It is so rare for a woman to stay single at the end of a book (see every YA love triangle ever, even when both boys are terrible), and so this resonated deeply with me. I laughed, I cried, I go back and reread bits every so often, and I wholeheartedly recommend.

8. Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

There are those who say that Cassandra Clare needs to stop, but I wholeheartedly disagree. As long as she wants to keep writing Shadowhunter books, I will keep reading them, because they are a hell of a lot of fun. I’ll admit, bits of the OG Mortal Instruments series aren’t the best thing I’ve ever read, but the historical series are in another league altogether. I adore the Infernal Devices trilogy, which features one of the few good love triangles in YA, and Chain of Gold is a promising start to a new series about the children of the Infernal Devices characters. I think there’s something about the historical setting that just works so much better than the modern series, it could be the angst that comes from things like marriages of convenience and ruined reputations, but I digress. I really enjoyed getting to know this new cast of characters, while also getting some appearances from old favourites. The plot was solid too, and I liked the new expansions to the mythology, while wondering what they mean for what’s coming in the rest of this trilogy. I think the fact that I read this in less than 48 hours, mostly sitting in the same spot tells you everything you need to know.

[laraslandlockedblues]

I have something I’ve been thinking about, especially now that I’m back over on Twitter (admittedly with a new account than I’d had before) and have been trying to reconcile how I utilize different platforms and why.

Long rambles so I’ll be sure to tag this long post and put under a read more.

TL;DR - I essentially traumatized myself for a political group doing research after the 2016 election, and while I thought I could handle it I found out I could not. I walked away from politics and at the same time discovered that fandom/fanfic writing was alive and well and I lost myself into writing for DA. I literally did actively avoid politics through tumblr and fandom because it was what I needed to heal. It’s why I’ve been such a shitty ally, and while I know that doesn’t excuse my inaction and silence, it hopefully explains why I hid behind privilege and often didn’t speak up. However, moving forward, that will be different.

I can no longer stay silent.

Almost four years ago, after crying my eyes out on election night, I became part of a group that was trying to decide what the fuck we could do moving forward. We all took up roles and duties we were suited for, and at the start mine was to delve into research. I was good at it, and at the time I assured them that I was able to read things that could make your skin crawl and walk away unscathed. It was a skill we needed.

And so, I set to work. I dove into the world of pro-Trumpers, the alt-right, the radicalization of young white men through the internet, and I worked on learning. I would spend my days reading reddit, 4chan, wherever I could find them gathering and sharing their ideas and plans. I took notes. I studied their lexicon and wrote it down. I figured out how they dog whistled and what terms they used around “normies” to try to bring them into the alt-right. I studied how they were trying to “red pill” people. I studied the way they actively were trying to push the Overton Window so that their ideas could be enacted further down the road.

For weeks this was all I did.

At first I was fueled by my rage and disbelief at the election, and I was hopeful we could figure it out soon and overcome. As time went on, though, I lost that hope. I couldn’t walk away from the research unscathed. I carried it around with me, crying over what I was reading, what I was discovering. The depths of hatred in people shook me to my core, as well as the realization that I had been blind to it and even a part of it at one point. 

I was raised by conservatives who admire Ayn Rand, after all. It took me living out on my own and speaking to people from all walks of life that I finally began to shed both religion and my formerly held political views. Two of my closest friends are the children of illegal immigrants. They were the first of their families to graduate from college. Going to their graduation party (as well as others for their families) changed my whole world. Being the only white, English speaker in a room was exactly the kind of experience a lot of people in our country need to have.

And now I was having to research people who actively hated some of the best people I’ve ever met, and also actively worked to never be in the sort of situations I had found had changed me so completely as a person.

I gave up. I sank into such a deep depression I took to drinking more, drinking so that I could sleep instead of staying up until 5am, until I had to go seek a counselor. I was in a red state, in military healthcare, and my counselor only saw the symptoms and side effects of my depression, not the cause. I didn’t feel safe telling her that I was thoroughly depressed because of what I saw happening to my country. Because of the election.

So instead I was treated as an alcoholic, as if that was not a symptom and was in fact the main cause (don’t @ me, I know it makes it worse. But it was not the cause.)

Then I discovered Mass Effect for the first time. And I replayed Dragon Age. I fell in love with Garrus and once more with Alistair and Fenris and Cullen. Late at night, a little tipsy and wishing Garrus had had more of a romance, I googled him and discovered Ao3. And I began devouring fic. And then I had an idea for my own (Goose Bumps).

The rest is well-documented history, here.

I sought refuge in fandom and fanfic. I sought refuge in telling stories. I admittedly used some problematic tropes when I first started out, so enthralled by just finally *writing* again that I didn’t pay attention to how I was consuming the media. I hadn’t written in so long, having hit writer’s block with a mystery I’d been working on (inspired by the “sundown” town I had to visit in-laws in in Illinois), and the act of just writing anything was so liberating for me I gave little thought to anything else.

Never mind the fact that my first real interaction with someone in fandom led to me being manipulated, gaslit, and abused. We’ll gloss over that part.

But these things all compiled into a me who was no longer vocal when I saw things that were more than just concerning and needed to be addressed. I ignored things that made me angry. I saw mutuals sharing important political messages and my heart would start racing and I would log out for the day. I couldn’t see the content without having an adverse reaction to it. I also didn’t want to make myself a target by saying anything - after all, I had written fics and been targeted by an abuser simply for that. What sort of reaction would I get if I helped to call out problematic art and artists?

I was frozen by fear.

I let myself be silent. I let myself take refuge in my privilege as a white cis woman. I let myself only write and block anyone who was racist/sexist/ableist/terfs/you name it. I blocked and moved on.

Because I could.

I had that luxury.

I am no longer frozen by my fear. I am now emboldened by it. I understand wanting to seek refuge in fandom. I do. If moving forward me being political here on this platform causes you distress and you have to unfollow me, trust me.

I get it.

But I can no longer allow my silence to enable those who seek to cause harm. I can no longer stay silent in the face of what is happening in the world, in my country, in my backyard - in my fandom.

This is not in response to anything more than my determination to be better than I was. For three years I’ve allowed myself to seek shelter, while not allowing others the same decency or courtesy by creating a safe space free of racism or other harmful ideologies. I’m not the only one who deserves to seek shelter in fandom. White women are not the only ones who deserve to seek shelter in fandom.

If those statements seem radical or uncomfortable to you, feel free to show yourself the door.

This is not an attempt to explain away my past (in)actions. I don’t need pats on the back. I don’t need reaffirmation. These thoughts have just been circling in my head now that I’ve finally reconnected with that group and have been politically active on Twitter and my personal Facebook again. This blog is still mostly fandom and shitposts. But I also want to be better in how I participate here, instead of keeping it just to my Twitter.

Racists, TERFs, homophobes, sexists, fascists (yes, you’re a fascist if you’re “anti-antifa” get fucked), nazis, etc - none of your like are welcome here. My art is not for you.

[buttsonthebeach]

Fire and Water

@kittlesandbugs was the nicest ever and got @bearly-tolerable and @ellstersmash a holiday gift, except really it was a gift for me because then I got to write about Makon and Athi!!

Thank you so much, you three <3 I hope you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Makon x Athi Lavellan

Rating: Explicit! Sexy times ahead!

********

The first time Athi Lavellan saw a grey hair in the mirror, she panicked, pulled it out, and then immediately set to questioning whether it had been there at all, an exercise which ended in her combing out all of her thick brown hair, searching for more, and then hating herself for doing it. She had never expected to be the kind of woman who obsessed over such things. Aging was part of life. She’d admired the rich silver hair of the older women in her clan before, how it caught the sun.

So she resolved herself then and there - no more obsessing.

Except the second time she found a grey hair, she did the exact same thing.

And the third.

And the fourth.

And then when she was in the market next, she started looking at the hair dyes they sold for the first time, trying to determine if any of the henna that came out of Tevinter and Rivain might work to keep the auburn luster of her hair. And then she found an Orlesian stall that sold creams for your hands and face, and owned by a very emphatic Orlesian merchant who swore by all of them.

She was halfway through counting out the exorbitant amount of gold she would need for the purchase before she snapped back to herself.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, making direct eye contact with the merchant, and then turning and leaving without further explanation. Why would she believe a man who came from a nation where they all wore masks, anyway? And weren’t laugh lines and crows’ feet just signs of wisdom, of all the joy life had given you? And she barely had them anyway. She’d checked carefully in the mirror for them before they left for the market.

“Which merchant tried to cheat you?” Makon asked, startling her out of her thoughts. He loomed at her side, big and gentle and handsome and looking exactly the same as he had on the day they met so many years before.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Athi Lavellan was a simple Dalish elf, and her partner - her handsome, clever, loyal, thoughtful partner - was a druid of the Donarks, destined to live for centuries.

“An Orlesian, of course,” she said. “Did you finish all of your deals for the day?”

“Yes.” Makon cocked his head, narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Are you well, Athi? What did the Orlesian do, anyway?”

“Nothing. Orlesian things. Let’s get going before we lose too much light.”

Makon watched her a moment longer, still skeptical, before he smiled, took her hand, and walked on.

It was two more years after that day that Athi gave in and started dyeing her hair, learned to make salves from elfroot that were supposed to rejuvenate the face. It was fine, she told herself. It was early for her to start showing these signs, anyway. She wasn’t really ageing. Wasn’t really starting to outpace Makon on the long road that everyone walked.

But then came the morning when she stood up from bed and her whole body was a symphony of popping sounds, and her neck ached all day because of how she’d slept on it, and she had to let the younger elves go on ahead of her to continue foraging because she just needed to sit and rest.

And there, sitting on that rock, watching the elves of the clan she and Makon had helped rebuild, bit by bit, after the devastation of the darkspawn - Athi Lavellan had to acknowledge that she was getting old.

It had been twenty years since she left Clan Lavellan to be with Makon. She’d gone into it with eyes wide open, or so she thought. She knew what it would mean to live among the druids and their ancient way of life, the cord that connected them all the way back to the seven magisters that tried to breach the Golden City - to their great ancestor Danu and the High Dragon that she was bound to. Makon and his kin would not change with the passing years the way she would.

“Are you certain?” Makon had whispered to her quietly one night when she first joined him. “I know what it means to choose this life, but you do not.”

Athi had rolled to face him, traced the shape of his strong square jaw, memorized the way the moonlight silvered his brown skin. Makon was speaking of the spouses that had gone before her in his long life. None of them had been druids, either.

“I am choosing you,” she’d said, and kissed him, hard, without reservation.

But Athi saw now that she’d been kidding herself when she thought she knew what she was getting into. Like someone who’d twisted their ankle, insisting they could walk it off, refusing to use a crutch, pretending the pain wasn’t getting worse. She realized after that day sitting on the rock, watching the others, listening to the jungle sounds she’d come to know, that she couldn’t ignore it any longer. It was hard to wake up every day at Makon’s side and see that he had not changed, then to go to the mirror and see that she had.

“Fuck,” she sighed, not a curse so much as an acknowledgement. She was getting old. 

She probed the pain as the day went on and found that it was not jealousy. Makon was the best person she knew. If anyone deserved to live a life that spanned the ages of Thedas it was him. She’d seen the same of many of the other druids she lived among. Their deep love of their jungle home, their peace, their gentleness. They deserved this. She, on the other hand, did not. She was brash and stubborn and she had not lived a life of peace before she came to live with them, and she would not sully their culture by treating it as a means to an end, a way of cheating death.

But did it have to hurt so much to look in the mirror and see those lines around her eyes and her mouth, the silver that showed through at the roots of her russet hair, the softness in her belly and her thighs that came with age? If she’d known this was coming all along, couldn’t she just - skip to the part where she accepted it?

She stewed in that feeling all day, even after she returned from the foraging trip. All the way until Makon came home from his audience with the king.

“Good evening, vhenan,” he said, warm and smiling, and Athi saw him and she did not regret a single thing.

“Hi,” she said, and went to him, and kissed him, with perhaps more force than she usually put into a welcome home kiss. It took him a moment to melt into it, but then melt he did, his lips parting, welcoming her in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a greeting?” he asked.

“The usual. How handsome you are and all that,” Athi said, trying for casual - but she wondered if he could hear it - the knot in her throat, made up of unspoken words. Our time together is limited, and now I have undeniable proof that it is slipping away.

“I see,” he said, looping his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her hairline and leaving a kiss there. “Then how should I reward you for being so beautiful?”

Promise sat full and ripe between them - a promise they had taken each other up on many times before. The promise of pleasure, connection, intimacy, heat. It thrilled Athi as much as it had the first time to imagine taking him up on that promise.

“I think you know by now,” she said, leaning in to him.

Makon chuckled. “Let me at least wipe myself down before I join you. I was clearing jungle for the new huts all day.”

“I’ll be ready and waiting,” Athi said, warmth already pooling low in her belly at the thought of all the ways Makon would turn his careful attention on her now.

All of that came crashing down like a sudden storm of ice when she went around the partition that separated their living and sleeping quarters, and undressed, and took in her own body in the dim light. Her desire for him was undimmed but her body had changed so much since those first heady times. And surely he had noticed it by now. Did he miss the way she was before, young and strong and beautiful? Her stomach twisted, queasy and unsteady.

She heard him rustling through their food stores. Cleared her throat.

“Take your time eating, vhenan. I’m not feeling as well as I thought I was.”

She was already dressing again when he came around the partition, bare to his waist, only his simple trousers on now.

“Oh? What’s the matter? Ukior mentioned that you had to sit out for a while during the foraging trip today.”

Ordinarily, Athi loved their small, tight-knit community. At that moment, Athi felt like barging into Ukior’s hut and demanding to know why he felt the need to spread her business around.

And now she was naked before Makon, something she had never once worried about before. She had flaunted her body for him before, proud, in love, full of need - been vulnerable to him in her times of sickness, too. She hated the shame that roiled through her now, foreign as a fever.

“Just tired,” she said, trying quickly to gather her clothes again, turning away from him.

“Vhenan,” Makon said, and she could hear his frown in his tone alone, because they had known each other so many, many years. Years that were written on her body now.

“I said I’m fine,” she said, not hiding the fact that her teeth were gritted.

“That is manifestly untrue. What is it?”

“Nothing!” she said, turning to him at last with a huff, safe underneath her clothes again.

Makon’s eyebrows were still knit close. “I can’t force you to tell me what’s wrong -”

“Then don’t.”

“- but I would appreciate it if you did.”

Ah.

There.

He’d found her soft underbelly, the thing she tried to protect from the world. He knew he could not fight her temper, her stubbornness. But he knew he could remind her how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. Damn him. Damn the knowledge and closeness that twenty years could bring.

“It’s so stupid,” she said, and felt at once that knot in the base of her throat.

“I am sure it isn’t,” Makon said, closing the distance between them.

“I’m old.” Athi blurted the words on the heels of his. “I’m old, and I feel old, and I don’t see how you can desire me like this. I wouldn’t.”

Makon did not seem as shocked as Athi thought he would. The words were a shock to her. Saying them out loud left her with a raw, dangerous feeling, like she’d cornered herself. Her mind leapt next to his other spouses, the ones he’d watched age and die before her, and then she was angry that he was not shocked, angry that he had already experienced all of this before, that it could not hurt him the way it was hurting her in that moment.

It was quiet, she realized. She wondered how much her emotions had shown on her face.

“Well?” She said, raising her arms helplessly and then lowering them again.

“I think you should take your clothes off again,” Makon said, voice low.

“Why?”

“So I can show you exactly how much I desire you.”

Athi’s whole body flushed hot and embarrassed as it had not since she was a young girl.

“No,” she said, but none of the heat found its way into her voice.

Makon shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Very well.”

His little half-smile - his handsome face - damn him. 

Athi was already halfway across the space between them before she knew she was moving, already kissing him before the words of argument she wanted to say could slip out of her mouth. Just because I’m giving in to this doesn’t mean I’m not old, Makon. Doesn’t mean I’m not just going to keep getting older. Doesn’t mean that at some point you won’t find me too old to desire me. Instead she groaned hungrily, fiercely into his mouth, hoping he would understand from that sound alone all the feelings that were roiling within her.

His answering sound, the nip of his teeth on her lower lip, his big hands cradling her close, lifting her onto her tiptoes, tangling in her long brown hair, told her that he did.

Damn him, but she loved him. Loved his quiet equanimity in the face of her storms, his steady understanding of the world and all things in it. The sound he made when she leapt from her tiptoes and wrapped her legs around his waist. The strength of his arms as he held her there. The utter safety she felt, clinging to him, kissing him, mouths parting and rejoining and then parting again, the quick dart of his tongue and the way it made her toes curl against the small of his back, made liquid fire fill her belly, so warm she could endure anything as long as he kept stoking it, and yet unbearable in its own way.

She never wanted to lose this feeling. But even as Makon turned and pressed her up against one wall of their bedroom, groaning, his own body shuddering, making small attempts to grind against her despite the difference in their height, Athi became sure again that she would. This fire would die, as all fires did, and it was unfair.

She pulled back from their kiss and looked into Makon’s eyes, bleary now with arousal.

“I love you,” she said, throat close, words small.

“And I you,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

“No, you don’t understand -” she began, and there was not fire in her voice now. There was water instead. “I love you, and this isn’t fair to you, and I’m -”

“I know, love. I do.” He moved one of his hands to her cheek. “Let me love you, now.”

Letting go was not something Athi did easily. She was a fighter, a holder of grudges. But Makon’s quiet insistence was the ocean tide to her rocky shore and he would have this, now, her surrender, piece by piece. And Athi knew it was what she needed, too. So she dropped back to the floor, on her own two feet once again, and began stripping her clothes off. Makon stood, watching, and this brought the shame again, a flashfire all over her skin. She wanted to cover herself. The places where she had gone soft and sagged, the scars. All of it.

For fuck’s sake, Athi. Are you really going to be like this now?

Her own scolding worked. She kept her hands at her sides, even if they were in fists. Makon’s eyes were roving, searching, an explorer committing a map to memory, as though he had never seen her before.

“Gods,” he murmured. “I am a lucky man.”

Athi felt the impulse to argue bubbling up in her chest but it didn’t have time to escape before Makon was on her again, still fully clothed, kissing her everywhere but the lips now - her forehead, her cheeks, her ears, her neck, her collarbone - while his hands mapped the rest of her. The slope of her back and the peaks of her breasts and the roundness of her buttocks and thighs. The swiftness of it stunned Athi, stole her breath, overwhelmed any other thought but those of his closeness and the smell of his skin and the feel of his calloused hands. Her heart was in her throat already and he had not even touched her where she wanted it most. 

Yet even that need seemed secondary. Arousal was just one of the many things she was feeling as Makon turned her suddenly, making her face the wall now, bracing herself against it as he began his exploration again, this time beginning with the back of her neck, the spread of her shoulders, the long valley of her spine. He ran his nose along it, kissed it, traveled the length of her legs with his hands. They were places he had kissed and touched before, surely, in their twenty years together, but there was something new in all of this. This was not one of their lazy, comfortable joinings after a long night by the fire, as dreamlike and perfect as those were. This was something primal, something that seared, like looking too long at the sun.

Before Athi could adjust to the feeling of him behind her, Makon had risen to his full height and turned her again, crushing her body to his, kissing her hard on the lips. Then he was lifting her into his arms so suddenly it made her yelp. The motion had jostled her sore left hip.

“Okay?” Makon asked, his breath a little short.

“Yes,” Athi said. It did not matter. It didn’t. She wasn’t going to let it. She was going to be here, in this moment, with this beautiful man who loved her as she was.

He laid her down on their bed and hovered over her, looking down at her, simply watching for a moment.

“I am not lying when I call you lovely,” he said. “I never have been. Nature doesn’t look the same in all seasons, but each one has its beauties. People are the same. I look at you now, my love, and I still see each and every one of yours.” He ran his hand down the curve of her cheek. “Your eyes, your skin, your hair. I can see all the smiles we’ve shared in the lines of your face now. I think that might be the loveliest part of all.”

Athi did not fight the tears that welled up at his words. They trickled out and Makon caught them, one by one, wiping them away with his fingertips, and then kissing the tracks they’d left behind. He ended at her ear, and whispered quietly in the hollow there:

“I want to make you feel good. Can I, Athi?”

His hand was on her hip now. A promise. Arousal surged to the front of her mind once again, sticky and sweet already between her legs.

“Please,” she gasped, and kissed him hard and deep as his fingers slid inward, across her belly and down where she was soft and wanting, and it was as electric as the first time, the way his fingers rubbed up and down, exploring her folds, testing the depths of her desire.

“Gods,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, sliding one finger into her, and then two. Athi canted and rocked her hips, seeking more of the sensation, but he just held there, making the tiniest crooking motions, spreading her open, listening to her breathe.

“Makon,” she whined when this went on for a seeming eternity.

He hushed her, kissed her ear, nipped the lobe. “I want to remember this forever.”

It was the most beautiful thing he could have said, and he probably knew it, too (damn him). It brought the tears back, and was aging not about moving forward but about moving backwards, returning to adolescence, to the sense that your body was beyond your control, changing too rapidly for your mind to understand - to the last time in her life that it had been so easy for her to go from tears to smiles in an instant?

He hushed her again, kissed the tracks of her tears, kept working her with his fingers ever so slowly, brushing against the swollen-up place insider her, sending skitters of pleasure through her belly, not letting anything build too much.

“I have you,” he said, shifting now, resting his thumb against the swell of her clit.

Athi believed him with all of her heart. That brought a rush as sure as the first press of his thumb, that first slow, soft circle. Makon would always have her, no matter what. She was not the unlucky one in this partnership. She was the luckiest of them, because he had her, and she was safe, no matter what happened with her body, no matter how many years passed.

“I love you,” she gasped, turning her face, seeking his lips.

“I love you,” he returned, kissing her, pressing more firmly now, stroking her inside and out, still slowly, still trying to build her up.

Athi was panting when their kiss ended, wriggling against him, trying to quicken that pace. Her pleasure was a slow tide, pulling her out somewhere far away, flooding her with heat. She was so wet around his fingers that she could hear the sound of him working her and that only made her wetter, tighter. He made a low animal sound at that first pulse of her around his fingers.

“More,” she insisted, rubbing herself against him, shameless in her need for him.

She had to ask twice more before Makon obliged, his movements so quick they startled her as he moved suddenly from her side, withdrew his fingers from her entirely, and then moved down their bed, settling between her legs and sealing his lips over the sweetness of her sex before she even had time to process the idea of it. Now he did not waste his time. His tongue was everywhere, tasting and kissing and darting in and drawing circles and then finally (finally) sucking and licking the hard point of her pleasure, and just as Athi thought she could take no more his fingers slid back in and then she was all sensation, no thought, just a keening body, strung out on need, bending and folding and seeking more, more, more of the very thing that was breaking her.

Makon only left her hovering there once, which was a good thing, because as much as Athi loved him, she might have killed him otherwise. The second time he let her tip over that edge, made her come so hard she forgot anything other than what it was to feel good, to be full of that hard squeezing heat, to be shaking with delight. To love her body again, the way she had before.

When she came down from the dizziness of it all, Makon was there, leaning over her, smiling. He was naked now, his trousers and smalls finally shucked off.

“I can promise you that without a doubt, I will never be tired of seeing you like that. It will never stop being the highlight of my day,” he said, smug and tender all at once.

“Shut up and kiss me and then get inside me,” Athi said, arms outstretched.

Makon laughed, and he obliged her.

He kissed her, returning to slow movements again, gentling her, wanting her need to rebuild slowly. Wanting to take his time. Athi could read that in the softness of his kiss, the way he eased himself on top of her and then settled there, warming her with his weight, how sometimes he drew away and kissed her forehead or her eyelids instead. Each time he kissed her like they had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he would rather be. His fingertips retraced the paths they’d followed before. He was no longer an explorer memorizing a new map or blazing a new trail, but a lover returning to a favorite place. She was his favorite place. Even now that she had changed. It made sense when she thought of it that way, though, as she played the words he’d said earlier over and over in her mind. She didn’t love the trees less because their leaves changed in autumn or disappeared in winter. Why would he love her less?

So Athi let herself settle into the moment with him, enjoy the feeling of his warm smooth skin on hers, take in with a thrill how hard he was against her belly, the length and breadth of him there. She let herself think of nothing but how much she liked the sounds he made when she slipped one hand between them and held his cock tight, how his whole body went tight like a new-strung bow when she swiped her thumb over the head of him, starting stroking him slowly, and then faster, limited though she was by the space between their bodies.

“Ma vhenan,” he gasped finally. “Be gentle to an old man whose stamina is not what it was.”

“Liar,” she said, even as the words seeped into her heart. She looked at him and saw him unchanged, but that was not how he saw himself. He saw himself as an old man, too. One who perhaps felt too old for her when they first met. Who saw her drawing closer and closer to the age he felt, and was not afraid.

She kissed him on the lips, and wrapped her legs around his hips, and guided him into her, and it was as perfect as the first time, the way they fit together, the way he held his breath until he had bottomed out and then let it out all at once, like he’d been waiting for that feeling all his life. The way he stretched and filled her, and then held still, reveling in that moment of connection.

Makon rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes and stayed still even a moment after Athi expected him to move. He was memorizing this, she decided. Memorizing this because as much as she feared growing old and undesirable, he feared losing her. They were both in the jaws of things they could not control. They were - neither of them - alone.

Athi wrapped her arms and legs tight around him and held him close, and he held her too, and they were together, the two of them, perfect in their stillness, whole in their fear and their love. She kissed him, and they both spoke the things they could not express with words into that kiss.

Then Makon moved once, a sudden, hard thrust that made Athi tip her head back and gasp sharply, and just like that she was back in the moment again, back in her skin, focused on nothing except how good it felt to be with the man she loved, on the flexing of his back and his buttocks as he thrust into her, on the sweet friction of him moving inside of her. He was steady, hard, unbreakable as the rhythm of sun and moon in the sky as he made love to her, and she clung to him, harder and harder, because it was so good, him filling her up, him hard and thick within her where she was soft and wanting and warm, the frantic rhythm of her own heart - and she clung to him because there were finally too many feelings within her to name them all and her need for him was one of them, unnameable and huge as a starless night sky.

So she just murmured three words to him over and over again, rocked back to meet each and every stroke of his body moving into hers: I love you, I love you, I love you.

And he replied, and each one was different, and each one made her cry: I know, I love you too, my Athi -

And then finally his whole body went rigid and he pushed himself hard and deep into her and he forgot how to breathe and he was coming, and Athi tried to memorize this exact moment, their sweat and their panting breaths and the feeling of him pulsing inside her, the ache in her muscles and her lungs. It was messy and beautiful and them and as precious as any moment they had ever shared when she was young and beautiful because it was theirs, real and true, more deeply felt than anything they had experienced in those early days.

The stiffness left Makon’s body and he softened, curled around her, no longer mindful of keeping his weight off of her. Athi ran her hands up and down his back, treasuring the way he shivered at the simple contact.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What for?” he asked, a sleepy murmur.

“For tolerating me.”

“Ah, that. It is quite a burden. I am glad you can acknowledge that.”

She hit his shoulder, no force behind the blow. She could feel herself coming down from the high of their lovemaking, even though he was still inside her, even though she could feel the wet warmth of their pleasure mingling between her thighs.

“I wish I could handle this with grace,” she said. He was starting to feel heavy on top of her but she still regretted it when he raised himself up, looked down at her. His hair was a mess now, falling long and brown around his face.

“I love you exactly the way you are,” he said. “Always. I love the fierceness of your feelings in all things. Even in this. Who needs grace when you have that fire in your heart?”

Athi wondered if this was just another sign that she was becoming an old woman - how easily the need to cry rose again. She quelled it this time. Even if she was becoming old and sentimental, there was no need to give into it every day. Besides - she would much rather put her energy into curling up against Makon’s back once he settled himself in bed beside her, memorizing the shape of it, the slope of his shoulders, the sound of his sleeping breathing. This moment, like all moments, would never come again. 

Athi was going to treasure it for every day remaining to her.

[msbluebell]

Hello, I'm the same anon talking about the Captured AU. Sorry about that, I'm not accusing you of making Edelgard a Yandere when I sent the ask, I may come off as oversimplifying Edelgard's character with that but the Captured AU where Edelgard amplified her controlling tendencies just... gave off that impression to me, so, again, I apologize. And part of me can't see Edelgard doing that, as much as I'm aware that it's an AU, since even if her methods are questionable, she still gave (1/2)

the rest of the Eagles a choice to whether or not they will fight with her or not. And even in non-Black eagles routes, she gave Petra a choice to whether or not she will help her if you recruit Petra. So even with all her controlling tendencies, I was on the belief that Edelgard still gave people a choice, no matter how little they might be. Edelgard's methods are NOT okay, but I just can't see her having her controlling tendencies amplified like the AU did. (2/2)Listen, I’m not mad at you. You’re allowed to not like something, and you’e allowed to criticize something, and you’re allowed to even think actively bad things about something.

You and I? We don’t agree on Edelgard’s character and that’s the bare bones of it.

I’m really, really, tired of trying to defend my view on Edelgard, or this stupid AU I made that got me so much hate from different anons (not you, I assume). I don’t even like her character, so it’s exhausting to keep repeating my views of her over and over. So, right here, right now, I’m using your argument less to argue about my AU, and more to put my final foot down on my feelings on Edelgard, what I think she’d do, and how I feel about her. So sorry about that.

I completely, totally, undeniably believe Edelgard absolutely would lock up Byleth in a tower for five years if given the option. That’s not even something I questioned when writing this AU. I think she’s ruthless enough to do it, I think she’s got the sense of compassion to want to do it, and I think she has the moral self-superiority to think she’s right for doing so.

This is the girl that was staged a bandit attack in order to assassinate her two fellow House Leaders, both of whom are underage like her. This is the girl that blackmailed Lorenz into siding with the Empire, this is the girl that is invading all of Fodlan in order to tear down the system and rebuild it the way she thinks is right, this is the girl that used Bernadetta as bait in a trap on Gronder Field in every route not Black Eagles. This is the girl that is possibly blackmailing Ferdinand. Her willingness to commit atrocities in the name of her ambition is what gets the other three factions of the game to paint her as evil. And, eespite loathing the methods of TWSITD, she is shown to actively aid them with their experiments by collecting Crest Stones for them to use to turn innocents into Demonic Beasts with her assault on the Holy Tomb. She also explicitly gave them the Death Knight, who then helps them kidnap Flayn for more experiments. She obsessed with control to the point that it’s listed in her bio, and the only time she lets up on any of these qualities is when Byleth is actively playing her morality pet in the Crimson Flower Route.

And that’s not even going into the fact that she justifies all these actions by the “I Did What I Had To Do” logic.

So, yes, with all the criticism you may think I hate her.

No.

I dislike her, but I understand and appreciate that she’s also a kind, compassionate, woman that is actively trying to make her homeland a better play the only way she knows how. She’s working on only half the actual facts, much like Dimitri, and like him she’s attacking the wrong people because she came to a wrong conclusion based on only half given facts. She legitimately does believe that playing the tyrant now is going to save a lot of people in the future, and it’s a genuine character flaw of hers that she overlooks the now in the name of the future. She is completely right about the corruption of the crest system and the need to reform, as well as the issues with the Church. 

But I’m getting off topic.

I believe, based on both her ruthlessness and her compassion, that she would lock someone up in order to save them from the war.But BBell, you say, locking someone up like that isn’t compassionate at all, it’s torture.

Yes, person who just said that, I agree with you. By basic human decency standards. But you clearly have no idea how we treat prisoners of war. Even in modern day. And, yes, Byleth is a war prisoner first, as I have tried and failed to remind everyone over the course of this AU.

And, my lovelies, being a POW sucks hard, but I bet it sucked harder in an age before crossbows.

Edelgard, in this AU in particular, thinks she is saving Byleth’s life by keeping her a POW. And, on top of that, she’s keeping Byleth fed, in a nice room, with comfortable beds, nice clothes, entertainment. Compared to a wet, cramp, dirty cell with rats that eat you, no toilet, no bed, and no light I bet this prison seems like one of those fancy rich people prisons that are nicer than my apartment. Not only that, Byleth is getting company every day. (I do admit I decided that the room needs a window, just one that’s kinda like a skylight where it’s way too high up to reach). In Edelgard’s mind, she’s saving Byleth’s life and keeping them comfortable until the war is over. That’s downright compassionate right there. Horrifying to us though.

The thing about this AU that everyone seems to forget is that Byleth loving Edelgard was not the end goal for the woman. Yes, she does want Byleth on her side and thinks she can convince them one day, but actively controlling them and making them love her isn’t the point. The point is to keep this person she’s canonically obsessed with from dying in the war. 

I didn’t say this clearly the first time around because I wanted people to come up with their own reasons and endings for this AU, but in my head once this war is over and Edelgard rules everything, Byleth is free to go so long as she isn’t planning a riot or rebellion or assassination. Granted, I personally wouldn’t want someone that could incite a rebellion running around free, so house arrest in a manor or something is more likely, but the tower won’t be necessary after the war.

That’s how I saw it, anyway.

I don’t care if other people want it to be different. I don’t care if they make Edelgard a Yandere. I don’t care if they make Byleth a twenty foot dragon. I don’t care if they don’t keep it as canonically aligned as possible like I tried to do at first before more and more ask bombed my doorstep and this whole thing swelled way beyond my original prompt and got lost somewhere. I don’t care if this is a good horror story for people, or a story they hate, or a good yandere bait story. I don’t care if people have Edelgard obsessed to the point where she never lets Byleth out, because, you know what? I’m sure they have their own logical reasoning for why she would do that. I can’t personally see it. I know Anon personally can’t see it because that’s where this whole mess of me trying to defend my thoughts on a stupid AU I wrote that got me a lot of grief from much meaner Anons came from.

It’s just a dumb AU, guys, do want you want with it. Block it, hate it, love it, write it. Write a billion spin-offs. Make Rhea the one locking people in towers. Make Claude do it. I don’t care if you somehow make Jeralt a zombie and have him capture Edelgard in a tower at this point.You wanna know something? I’d write how I most logically think that very Zombie Jeralt prompt would happen if someone sent it. And I think that’s the problem. Maybe I’m trying to hard to logic out all this stuff I don’t think will happen. Because I don’t back down from the asks, even when I think there’s no way it could happen I tackle it. Maybe that’s why everything is swelling so much beyond my control, and I got three Anons (not counting you, Anon from this ask) that have harassed me about this.I’m going to turn off Anon Asks if I get one more hate comment btw. Check mate to that particular Anon if they’re reading this. Call me a cunt to my face so I can block you, coward. 

Anyway, I got off point again. You disagree with me, Respectful Anon that disagrees with my AU, and I disagree with you. I’m not mad about the yandere comment, I was just defensive. Here’s my feelings on everything. You probably disagree with them. That’s great! I don’t wanna live in a world where people blindly agree with me! I’m sure you even have a great counter argument that I’ll read, and then can’t do anything about because this AU is bigger than me and also I might still disagree.And that’s it, that’s my whole defense of myself in this AU. Have a nice day. 

[malereader-inserts]

Amar Pelos Dois

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Sansa Stark x Male!Reader Summary: If one day someone asks about me tell them I lived to love you. Before you, I only existed tired and with nothing to give Word Count: 1,626 Request: “May I request something with Sansa with a little bit of angst? I would literally take anything, I love your writing so much so I just know whatever you’re going to write will be good 💕💕” A/n: I know there is some inaccuracy in this, but I'm bending the plotline because I am watching GOT season 8, it’s like three in the morning when I started this and now it’s somewhere in the four o’clock. So spoilers for the new season. Also, the title of this fic is from a song, a song about the continuous search for a lost love,  a Portuguese lullaby kinda song that fits perfectly for this story.

“Sansa.”

The voice was like a distant memory to her as she gasps awake, years have passed since she has seen the love of her life. Winterfell was home to her, but it felt empty, she was missing that person she had longed for.

You.

The Targaryen Boy.

The captured Targaryen, you were left to be a prisoner of Kings Landing, under King Joffrey. Sansa had been curious to you when you had arrived, she was merely fourteen when you had arrived being a few years older than her. Joffrey was left not to kill you, under strict orders of Tywin Lannister.

You were pretty in her eyes, as she grew up she wanted to be with a prince. Whilst, she thought Joffrey could be that prince she had longed for, she had seen his cruel nature. Then comes another a prince, an exiled prince with a tongue. A boy of Joffrey age, but instead a crown made of gold, yours was a crown made of silver.

Sharp purple eyes and a boyish smile, despite your predicament you tried looking it from a positive perspective. He’s cruel, bitter and angry, that’s what they say. Locked up in a room in the castle, they say, you’re planning your attack and you being in Kings Landing was bad news.

Sansa dreamt of a prince to wed, she hadn’t expected you.

Your voice was calming, there was no bitterness, no anger. Your purple eyes had enchanted her, Joffrey was nothing compared to you. You were compassionate, loving, but yet oh so fierce. You were allowed to roam certain aspects of the castle grounds, but often times your door was left open.

Members of the Kingsguard kept an annoyingly close eye on you, wary of your actions. You were the one to approach Sansa, fascinated with her looks. Soon, the meetups were frequent, she found you intelligent as you spoke of your wonders.

“This is where I was supposed to be born, this was supposed to be my home,” Yo sighed, it always felt so surreal to you.

“It still could be,” Sansa spoke, there was a determination in her voice but you chuckled, however, it wasn’t mocking to her suggestion.

“Time, my dearest Sansa love,” You murmured, pushing back a stray hair behind her ear, “We need patience, I don’t have a sword to even defend myself.”

The two had arrived at your chambers, you allowed her to enter first, noticing there were no knights around to spy as you enter your room and shutting the door behind yourself. Sansa’s fingers trace the words on the books stacked on a nearby desk.

“I want to get back to my twin,” You dreamt, lying back on your bed as Sansa sat on a chair nearby.

“And what would you do?” Sansa asked, she fondly watched your lips twitched upwards.

“I can’t tell you, or they’ll slit my throat, Sansa dear.”

She never meant to fall in love with you, nor did you. But, within your secret meetings, she found a prince that had ambition, a prince that would fight for his people, you weren’t a coward like Joffrey. You certainly weren’t cruel, nor bitter, nor angry like the whispers that roamed the Castle walls.

She had fallen for you, and suddenly she understood how Cersei wanted to marry your older brother, Rhegar. You were charming, full of pride and full of honour.

You had fallen for her, you watched her grow into a strong woman. She had been pushed and pushed by the king, whilst you tried your best to keep yourself on the good side, sometimes your tongue got ahead of you. You had admired her, how playful she could be and was quick to be swoon with your pretty words and romantic gestures.

Sansa found herself dabbing away the blood on you, you found yourself longing for her gentle touch. Joffrey though he was so smart, forcing a marriage between you and Sansa, he truly believed that you and Sansa hated each other since they hadn’t seen you together. 

Your eyes burn with hatred, the king laughed at your new wife as if she was a joke. She held your hand under the table, trying to prevent you from doing something incredibly stupid.

She was fifteen when she had married you and you were eighteen.

She found happiness with you, she had known that you would protect her. That night of your marriage, she felt happy to be by your side, to consummate the bond. You went her pace, you made her feel like a princess. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world, sometimes she wondered if it was too good to be true.

“Remember I love you,” You whispered into her ear, it was so soft and gentle.

Sansa stood in her room in Winterfell, she had been Lady of Winterfell and she was doing a great job in serving her people. She could imagine you teasing her in the background, but praising her as well. she wanted you to see her now, she was much more than the girl you fell in love back at Kings Landing.

She knew you loved her, it wasn’t false words, it wasn’t a lie. It was something she held onto. 

She had gone through trauma, but she had the hope you were still alive. She kept faith in your return. She had survived Ramsey, she took back Winterfell, all she needed was you. Every day was a day closer to finding the truth of you. But, the last time she had seen you was at the Purple Wedding. 

You both sat on the table, you next to Tyrion and her at the end. Tyrion found it heartwarming to see two children find a true bond, a love that blossomed so naturally and in their favour. However, all good things come to an end.

You both watched how Joffrey choked on his drink, both watching silently in the demise of the King. You squeezed her hand as you kissed her forehead, passionately and lovingly.

She gazed into your purple eyes as you stare back at her blue eyes. Your lips curve upwards, you were always happy to look at the love of your life.

“I love you,” You whispered, “Don’t forget that.”

“It’s the Targaryen boy!” Accusations pointed to you, naturally, and to Tyrion. You looked up to see eyes on you and Sansa.

“Don’t give up on me,“ You looked at Sansa once again, your grip around her tighten, scared to let her go, “Until we meet again, my love.”

Sansa looked outside her window, it had been three years since she had seen you. She’s twenty now, she still celebrates your name day despite not being there. You should be twenty-three. Every day she is reminded of the little things of you, how you would read out loud to her in your shared chambers.

She remembers how warm you were, you claimed it was the dragon blood but she brushed it off as playful. She treasures your story of Essos, how you longed to be reunited with your twin. She recalls back to the time where you two would lie around in bed as she tells tales of her home. Excited for you to visit if it was possible.

Yet, here she stood, at the wall of Winterfell watching dragons fly over her head. She descends down to the courtyard, finding herself waiting for her brother and the new Queen. She stood by Bran as she smiles upon the sight of her brother. Embracing him tightly.

She stares at the new Queen, a spitting image of you, just female. The same silver crown locks and purple eyes, skin as soft and a voice that was soothing. Sansa greets her politely, she was still married to you and despite even not knowing your current status it was only good of her to treat your twin with respect.

Queen or not.

She looks over Daenerys’ shoulder, her eyes widening to see familiar faces. The Hound, who had not noticed her. Then she saw unfamiliar faces before she had noticed someone get off their horse. Wearing white, like Daenerys. She stood up straight as she tries to see this new person who was approaching the Queen.

Then her whole world stopped for a moment. There in your glory, you were alive, sure with some additional scarring but she could get over that. 

Daenerys smirked as she noticed her younger sibling falter and stare at the red hair girl.

“My brother has been telling me tales of you, Lady Stark, ever since he was brought back. You are far prettier than my brother had described.”

Jon looked between the male dragon and his sister in confusion before recalling how Sansa had been married twice. One in a horrible marriage and another that it was too good to be true. 

“(Y/n), you’re making a fool of yourself,” Daenerys whisper to your ear as you snap out of your daze.

“Sansa, my love-” Your voice bringing her back to reality as she jumps into your arm.

You chuckled, your arms fitting perfectly around her tight. She had buried herself in between your neck and your shoulder. Still warm despite the harsh cold of the North. She missed you, your voice, your laughter, your warmth, your scent.

Finally, Winterfell felt complete with you back. Home is where the heart is, and that is you safe and alive.

“I never gave up on you,” She whispers into your ear.

“I never doubt that for a second, my love,” You hummed, still gripping her in a hug, “I hope you haven’t forgotten my love for you.”

“Never in the seven kingdoms would I forget your love.”