once again i remind you this is my ancestor she is playing!

A Mark of Betrayal

Words: 5.2k
Paring: Jimin x Reader|Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Angst, Mafia!Au
Summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin for all of time. 

Originally posted by sugutie

Long ago, the laws of the world were written in the essence of the seven sins. One demon was manifested for each, dragging weak minded people in to burn in hell as their companions for eternity. God then created the seven virtues to counterbalance the sins and so, the world was once again brought to peace.

Except for one.

One demon, one sin was long forgotten and it was perhaps the most grievous of them all.

Betrayal.

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2

And yet more of the YoungEsteban!AU because you guys left the sweetest comments and tags on the previews post and kept me motivated to actually keep drawing stuff for it! Thank you all so much!!!

 These were mostly drawings I made seperately, but since they were all focused on interractions I decided to post them together. And so I got the chance to talk about character relationships in this AU under the cut:

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the red planet

6. things you said under the stars and in the grass 

pairing: Mark (Got7) x reader

genre: dystopia!au, outerspace!au

word count: 2,325

The sound of someone pounding upon your metal apartment door ripped you from your slumber. Inspections had been completed last week and you had passed with flying colors so there should be no reason as to why someone would be knocking at your door at 3:30 in the morning. Especially on a Sunday.

Blurry sleep filled eyes made it hard for you to see who the figure on the other side of the door was, but they were impatient. You could see their shape pacing, activating even more nerves in your system.

“Babe, I can hear you breathing,” Mark whines, turning the identify of the stranger into your boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” you ask with lungs still asleep.

A devilish grin, one you had seen too many times, spread across his face, “Get dressed, I want to show you something.”

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Kingdom Come

Jon Snow Series

Summary: Born and raised beyond the wall by the Children of the Forest, Laena’s been told for years that she was going to be the fire that put out the Night King. Now that she is of age, it’s time for her to go out on her own and search for the the three things the Children have told her she needs to win. It isn’t until she comes across an army of free folk that she realizes that what she is searching for is much more than what she bargained for. 

Masterlist

I am a warrior. 

I am made of fire and blood. 

The blood of a dragon runs deep in my veins and sets my soul aflame. 

The cold does not bother me. I will not go hungry and I will not turn back. 

My time has come and it is only up to me. 

I repeat the mantra over and over in my head as I climb the snowy mountain. All the strength I can muster is used with every heave of my leg up the steep incline. If there was one thing that was starting to become a hassle, it was the fact that I was now using muscles I never had before. There really wasn’t any climbing done while sucking the life out of a weirwood tree for the past forty-eight years. 

Father said walking was going to be a bit much at first and I should make sure to rest, but it wouldn’t be long until I was out of the Frostfangs and into the Haunted Forest. I promised myself once I was under some cover of woods, I’d finally rest. 

It had only been days since leaving the weirwood, but it felt like a lifetime. That tree was the only home I had ever known. And leaving Leaf had hurt like no other pain; she was the closest thing to a mother that I had ever known; she’d taught me what I needed to know about the world - made sure I knew just how important my role was in all of it as well, and now I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again.

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Telanadas [3/?]

Temporary Blanket Disclaimer:

first chapter

AN: So it’s kind of late and a bit rushed, but I really, really wanted to get something out after being away for so long, and I had this chapter in bits and pieces already, so I stayed up late to finish it. There’s dialogue here that you may recognise from Dragon Age: Origins, but all in the context of the plot. 

I’ll get to editing when I have a chance, but honestly, I’m just proud to have written anything this week. Now if I could just find the staying power to get through my final marking and report card comments!


For a time, all is quiet.

Truthfully, the night watch is Sasuke’s favourite time of day, because it gives him a chance to collect his thoughts. He is much more used to travelling and working alone that being among others is often overstimulating. He needs time to ground and centre himself.

All of a sudden, there is a sharp, desperate intake of breath—a bitten off cry, followed by Sakura vaulting into a seated position.

Her eyes are wide and terrified, and fingers twitch like they’re reaching for her axe.

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Dating Problems

There’s blood under Harry’s fingernails that don’t wash away no matter how many times she washes her hands.

It’s nothing sinister, like murder, but through exposure. She loves using blood as a medium when summoning and the color has stuck on to her nails. She doesn’t believe that using brushes helped, because then she’d have to factor in what kind of hair in the summoning.

So no, Harry paints her circles with blood and her fingers.

The red colors on her fingers are distracting and sort of not conducive for dating life, especially when her date asks her, “So your fingers are red. Do you paint?”

She could lie and say yes, she paints, leaving out what she paints, but that had already backfired on her once, when she’d brought the man home and he’d seen the spell books on the wall, the talisman and charms hanging from her ceiling and the cat playing with a skull.

Harry tries dating, evading mentions about what she did for a living and why it translated to red fingers. Keyword: tries. Because all three attempts fail miserably and Harry gives up after number three ran screaming from Fifi toying with her mother’s skull.

“I give up,” she sighs, scooping up the cat and picking up the skull. She puts it back over the mantle after making sure that Fifi hadn’t scratched it. Not that Fifi would, since she was conscientious like that. “I guess I’ll die a virgin. And alone.”

The skull vibrates Lily’s disapproval and Harry sighs again.

“Shut up, mum. You don’t have my problems. You don’t even specialize in necromancy, so you can’t tell me you’ve done something about it,” Harry points out.

The skull buzzes in that specific manner that Harry knows. “I’m not skulking.”

The problem with a family line so steeped in magic is that death really isn’t a barrier. Harry ignores any other buzzing and goes to her room to gloomily contemplate summoning herself a boyfriend. She needs to get laid at least, because the family line needs to continue.

.

.

The Evans Family are all witches, going back a century. They are also all women with the father’s suspiciously dying at one point and or becoming suddenly pregnant without a man.

Harry is pretty sure that she’s got a lot of inhuman mixes in her, because when she opens the family spellbook, the spell to summon, one night stand is bookmarked and pretty much annotated with a lot of commentary.

One grandmother even adds, “be sure to be specific about their looks, because mine is pretty hairy.”

It’s mortifying and hindsight is really twenty-twenty. All those unexplained, sudden pregnancies make sense. (Also, it makes her feel better that it’s not only her that had a problem about getting a date.)

“Am I really doing this, Fifi?” she asks the cat.

“Meow,” says Fifi sternly.

Harry nods, setting down the spellbook and flicking fingers red with drying human blood.

At the first sentence, the circle starts to turn a molten color, gold flecking up the edges of the circle. It’s a good response and she continues, closing her eyes against the brightness and chanting in a soft, unwavering voice. She can feel the world start to warp in response to the summoning, a tear opening in the reality of the world.

By the fifth sentence, the air is heavy and it makes breathing difficult.

By the seventh, the air is freezing and her breathe fogs with every exhale.

When she finishes, it’s like dragging a stone over a steep mountain and she’s gulping in air desperately. To complete the ritual, she slams her bloody hands on the floor, red smearing on the wood. Like a response, the lights dim so suddenly that it hurts and in the aftermath, only the sound of her heavy gasping breaths are audible.

Then another person breathes, right inside the circle and Harry snaps a hand to light the candles.

Despite how man shaped the creature inside the circle is, Harry does not mistake him for a man. No man would have black eyes that sucked in the lights, reflecting nothing back. His teeth are a hint too sharp and his ears are slightly pointed.

Still, it’s easy to ignore all those signs because he is the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. So far.

Sharp cheekbones, tanned skin and spiky black hair, all of that mashed together to make a very handsome specimen. Look alike. Harry had to remind herself that he is not a man.

“Summoner,” he greets, naming her.

Harry knows she doesn’t look particularly witch-like, with her vivid t-shirt and sparkly headband. She smiles at him, a wicked smile that’s probably hereditary.

“Hello,” Harry answers. She’s in no rush and she waits while he reads the runes written in blood.

When he gets to the part of getting her pregnant, his eyes go wide. Then he turns to look at her, deadpan.

She knows she doesn’t need to explain herself to him, but the need is still there. “It’s hard to get dates when I’m a witch. And some human men are just so huffy about unprotected sex.” Never mind that she can’t catch their diseases anyway.

He smiles. “So, witch. Are you letting me out of this circle?” he asks and his tone of voice makes her want to shiver. “Unless you prefer to do this standing up, we can’t exactly lie down in the space you’ve drawn.”

Harry knows she’s as red as her mother’s hair.

“C - Contract,” she squeaks. “Let’s make a contract, then I’ll let you out of the circle. For the love of Morgana, stop wiggling your eyebrows!”

He gives a wicked laugh and Harry groans, absolutely mortified.

.

.

The contract is an airtight unbreakable piece of paper that bound a summoned creature to the witch until everything is fulfilled.

Harry is somewhat amazed that she could write a contract down with how much blood is rushing to her face. The summoned creature had introduced himself as Reborn, a rather incongruous name for what she suspects his species really is.

“Sign please,” she says, pointing to the dotted line.

Reborn reads everything, even the fine print. It had been a bit simple to come up with a contract, there had been a template stuck on the back of the summoning spell as an afterthought. Almost like one of her ancestors had realized contracts were necessary for letting summoned creatures out of circles.

He gestures to her pen and signs it, careful and very deliberate. He puts down a rune that sparks and threatens to light the paper on fire. Harry holds her breath and lets it out when it doesn’t.

Harry holds the paper carefully, feeling the weight of magic that had been absent earlier. It’s a careful magic albeit an incomplete one. She holds the pen and signs just as carefully on her part, completing the contract and turning the paper unbreakable and solid.

They complete the contract that night, a lovely intense thing that made Harry so grateful thing that she puts silencing sigils on her walls.

.

.

The problem comes nine months later, when Harry gives birth and realizes exactly who she summoned.

The babies are too beautiful, with sharp teeth and pointy ears.

The lack of bellybutton confirms her suspicions.

“Oh my god,” she says, more of a sigh of exasperation than anything. “I have the worst luck.”

She had summoned a demon prince.

.

.

Harry has Summoning Problems ™

Please give me feedback! First thing I wrote in … a couple of months. To break my depressive streak…

Thanks for the support, peepz!

anonymous asked:

No. 190, Prince Liam x MC/Eleanor. Your writing is so good!

Thank you so much! Here you go, this isn’t actually NSFW (sorry) because my mind went a different direction with the prompt.

History Lesson
By Misha

Disclaimer- I don’t own anything nor am I making any money off this, so please don’t sue me.

Author’s Notes- The idea for this was based on the idea of Liam being a descendant of Kenna’s and the events of The Crown and the Flame being a TV series very loosely based on a real historical figure. I also wanted the chance to tie two of my favorite Choices couples together and am dedicating this to @rantingchoices and @hollyashton , who both love Liam and Diavolos as much as I do. This was also partially inspired by the prompt, “We can’t do that here”.

Pairing- Liam/MC, minor Kenna/Diavolos

Summary- While visiting the Royal Portrait Gallery, Liam tells Eleanor about an interesting legend attached to his most famous ancestor.

Rating- PG

Words- 1571

I had a rare day without any scheduled events and after checking with Maxwell, I decided to explore the castle a bit and ended up in the royal portrait gallery.

I wandered through the hallways looking at the face of past kings and queens of Cordonia and asked myself if I could really see my portrait hanging there someday. I wanted to think so, wanted to believe that I had what it took to be queen and that I was the right choice for Cordonia, but really I wasn’t sure. I loved Liam, that much I was sure of. I also believed that I was the right choice for him personally, but it wasn’t that simple. He wasn’t just a man, he was a prince and soon he’d be a king.

I shook my head, I was getting ahead of myself. There was no guarantee that he would even choose me.

I moved down the hall, taking in the paintings and trying to remain a detached observer. I’m just a tourist visiting Cordonia, I told myself, a part of me wishing it was the truth.

Ugh, there I went again. No thoughts like that. Just concentrate on the paintings of old, dead people. I was still having mental arguments when I paused in front of a particular painting, the name on the plate underneath having caught my eye.

“Everyone stares at that one.”

I turned to see Liam standing behind me with a smile on his face. “What are you doing here,” I asked, “don’t you have official duties you should be attending to?”

“I found myself with a free hour and Maxwell was kind of enough to suggest that I check out the portrait gallery,” he explained, moving closer to me.

“Is that really Kenna Rys?” I asked, motioning to the portrait. “Like from The Crown and the Flame?

“Well, not exactly like that,” Liam said dryly, “The TV series is based on a series of fictional books that were very loosely based on a historical figure, but yes that is the same Kenna Rys.”

“So Cordonia is Stormholt?” I asked curiously. I watched the TV show, or at least I had when I’d been back in the US, I hadn’t actually watched TV since coming to Cordonia, but I hadn’t bothered researching the history behind it. History had never been my favorite subject, especially the history of some country I had never heard of. Or at least until I decided to try and become its queen.

“No, though this was once known as Stormholt castle,” he answered, “Cordonia is made of the entirety of the Five Kingdoms, though that was a title made up for the novels, and many of the current duchies of Cordonia are represented.”

I thought about my knowledge of the show. “Lykos… Lythikos,” I said slowly and then realized that Olivia had the same last name as the villains in the show. Well, that was fitting.

“Exactly,” Liam said with a smile.

“Are you a descendant of Queen Kenna then?” I asked him, looking at the portrait again. Kenna Rys was one of the coolest, most kickass characters on TV and a bit of a personal hero of mine and the idea that I might marry the descendant of the real Kenna was… A little awe-inspiring, actually.

“Yes, though many, many generations removed.” There was an odd look on his face as he looked at the portrait. “There is actually an interesting family legend about Kenna, one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

“Oh, what’s that?” I asked curiously.

“While the story you know is very fictionalized, it is true that Kenna was a brave warrior who united several small kingdoms in peace,” Liam said quietly, “and the legend says that as a reward for her bravery that Kenna was granted the gift of true love and everlasting happiness.”

“That’s a pretty good reward,” I commented, my eyes turning to the portrait hanging next to Kenna’s. I studied the handsome man with strong features and a stoic expression. “I think you’re about to spoil the latest season for me though, because that’s not Dom or Raydan,” I joked, referring to the two main male love interests in the show, “unless the show got their casting way off.”

“No, Kenna’s husband was Diavolos Nevrakis, the son of her sworn enemy,” Liam said, still looking at the portraits, “according to legend, they both fell in love the moment their eyes met. It didn’t matter that their families hated each other, that they were trying to negotiate a very tenuous peace and that neither side approved of the match. They were apparently determined to be together and they somehow found a way and, according to the history books, they had a long, happy marriage.”

Liam suddenly took my hand and then turned to me, looking deep into my eyes. “And family legend says, that not only was granted a happy ending but that all of her descendants would follow in her footsteps and experience love at first sight.”

Oh. We were heading to dangerous territory here, things that probably shouldn’t be said yet, if ever, but… “Do you believe that?”

“I never used to,” he admitted, “I thought it was just a story, after all, I was raised to believe that as a royal I had no right to expect true love. Then Leo met Maya.”

“And it was love at first sight,” I finished, remembering the bits and pieces of the story that he’d told me. How Leo had randomly met his wife in Greece and within a few weeks had abdicated the throne and by the end of the summer, they had been married.

“Yes,” Liam confirmed, “he told me that that the moment she fell into his arm, he knew she was the one. My father recently told me that he also experience that type of love, once.”

I briefly wondered which of the King’s three wives that had been, but I knew it was none of my business. For his sake, though, I hoped it wasn’t the one that had left.

“Even after Leo’s experience, I still didn’t think it would happen to me,” Liam continued, “besides I knew that even if it did, my duty to Cordonia came first. Then I walked into a New York bar and set eyes on a feisty waitress and I knew the legend was true.” Oh wow. “But I still knew my duty, so I walked away and returned him to Cordonia to pick my bride like a dutiful Crown Prince should and then you showed up at the masquerade and I began to hope.”

“Liam…” I said softly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“It’s ok,” he said softly, squeezing my hand, “I know it’s too early to have this conversation and that I shouldn’t be talking like this, but…” He glanced at the portraits of his ancestors one more time, “I’ve heard that story a million times, but it’s only recently that I really understand what they must have felt and how determined they would have been to overcome the obstacles keeping them apart. Because now I know that when you have a chance for that kind of love, you’ll do anything to keep it.”

I knew that nothing I could say would be appropriate, so instead, I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him deeply. He groaned and kissed me back, his arms reaching around to press my tight against him. After a moment he pulled away, though it obviously took considerable effort.

“As much as I appreciate the thought, we can’t do that here.” He reminded me, stepping back.

Oh, yeah, we were technically in public and if someone saw us, it could cause a scandal. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said with a smile, “you make me forget all the rules, Eleanor, and even worse, you make it so that I don’t care.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but we both knew it wasn’t strictly the truth. He did care, he had to care. I might make him forget for a little, but at the end of the day he was still bound by the rules of his country and that meant he wasn’t mine. Not yet, anyway, and maybe never.

But as we stood there, staring at one another underneath the portrait of his most famous ancestor, I couldn’t help but hope. Fate had put Liam in my path for a reason, surely it wasn’t just to torture us with the idea of true love and rip us apart? If our meeting had been destiny, and it certainly felt like it, then I just had to believe that our happy ending was just around the corner.

-          End

Sorting the Disney Princesses #2: MOANA

For those who are unfamiliar with our system, at @sortinghatchats when we say “Primary” we mean WHY people do things. When we talk about a “Secondary” house we mean HOW they do things. For more description of what we mean for each house, see our basics page here.

As her grandmother’s ghost says, Moana is “a girl from an island who stands apart from the crowd.”

Brave and certain, knowing what she believes and striving to chase after it, Moana is a Gryffindor Primary but her home and family ask her and expect her to be a Hufflepuff Primary– to value first duty, community, tradition, and stability.

The only person who does not tell her the way she is is wrong is her grandmother, who dances with the sea and lets everyone think she’s crazy, who tells Moana that “that voice inside is who you are.”

Moana can fake that Hufflepuff Primary real well– but you can see it doesn’t come intuitively to her. It is something her father painstakingly and patiently taught her in “Where You Are.” Her father tries to teach her about the island, about their people, traditions, and stability– but Moana just keeps running to the sea.

“This tradition is our mission, and, Moana, there’s so much to do!”
- Where You Are

By the end of the song she’s singing her father’s words and story, ready to be who she is supposed to. But this is something learned, and even as she does it she’s looking to the water, to her grandmother dancing, to the horizon.

Around the heart of her, which thirsts and stirs–“it calls me,” she builds a model that looks like the Hufflepuff she’s supposed to be.

"Everybody on this island seems happy on this island… everybody on this island has a role on this island, so maybe I can roll with mine.”
-Moana, How Far I’ll Go

But while Moana seems largely effective in this modeling, she is still unhappy. This is who she is supposed to be, but not who she is, and as a young Gryffindor Primary this hurts.

“I can lead with pride, I can make us strong, I’ll be satisfied if I play along, but the voice inside sings a different song. What is wrong with me?”
-Moana, How Far I’ll Go

But once Moana accepts and begins to act as who she is and not who she is “supposed” to be– taking the boat and setting out to find Maui– her Hufflepuff model becomes not an uncomfortable mask but instead something to rely on.

It is this back-up rigging that catches her when she stumbles– after they face the lava demon Te Ka the first time, are rebuffed, and Maui leaves. Moana’s Gryffindor, the voice inside her heart, falters. She listened to it, believed it, and now she has both failed and been abandoned. Adrift in a starlit sea, she doubts. She loses the certainty that is the cornerstone of this brave young woman.

And what sweeps in to lift her up is twofold: first, her grandmother, who had always been the defender of her Gryffindor– one lone crazy voice in a world that runs on Hufflepuff, the village loon, the village wise woman, who told Moana to listen and dream and dare– who led her to the boats– the only one who did not make her wonder what was wrong with her. “Nothing on earth can silence the quiet voice still inside you,” her grandmother tells her.  

And second, the Hufflepuff her father tried so hard to teach her–that sense of community, legacy, and tradition–sails past in a swell of song. As a child, Moana cared about the sea, about the heroes of her grandmother’s stories, the far horizon line. But her father showed her the island, the people who would be hers, and sang to her until she learned to sing along. As her Gryffindor falters, injured, her heart feeling stolen from her chest– her people, her legacy, her community, and her traditions come sweeping out of the night to remind her. They lift her up so she can find her feet again.

And the call isn’t out there at all. It’s inside me. It’s like the tide, always falling and rising. I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me that, come what may, I know the way.

-Moana, I Am Moana (Song of the Ancestors)

As Moana sings, “I am a girl who loves my island, and the girl who loves the sea. It calls me.” She can be both– the brave certain girl with a voice who speaks inside her, who will cross the horizon and go farther, and her father’s daughter, who loves the island she is responsible for. Her Hufflepuff Primary may be “only” a model, but you can still choose such things. You can decide the things you have built and learned and found for yourself are as important to you as those that come easy and natural to your hand. The things she is and the things she’s learned and the things she loves save her there.

For her secondary (aka HOW she does things), Moana seems to be a Hufflepuff Secondary– the House of empathy and hard work and determination. It’s her ability to care, work, and understand that carries her through.

When her position as chief’s daughter comes unnaturally to her, she deals with it by pouring herself into the work. She fixes leaking roofs and tries her hardest.

First setting out on her venture, she sails over unknown seas through night, storms, boredom, and exhaustion with a stubborn grit. She practices her first words to Maui over and over, and no matter how often she gets tossed into the ocean she never gives up.

Moana would have crashed herself against the barrier reef of Te Fiti until she broke herself– this is both her Gryffindor Primary and her Hufflepuff Secondary at work. Determination, belief, and perseverance all bundled up into one young woman.

When she finally wins Maui over to her side, it’s through understanding him– she listens to his boasting, looks at his tattoos, and realizes: he wants to be needed and he needs to be wanted. He is lonely, abandoned by those who were supposed to love him, and he’s spent all his long life trying to earn that love back.

In the finale, she looks at the lava spirit Te Ka and sees her for who she is. Just like she looked at Maui and felt for him, and used that to change him– she looks at Tefiti’s blackened husk and feels for her. Moana knows her, cares for her, loves her, and offers up the heart in her hands.

The Wrestle, Ch. IV

This is torturous electricity
between both of us
and this is dangerous.

There was no mistaking the coming end of summer in the forest. It played the final notes of its song in the very way the days seemed to understand that they were numbered. The sunlight was golden, the days were languid, syrup-like moments that almost tricked everyone into believing their sweetness would last. The tan on the trees began to fade, the shade they provided grew cooler, the sounds changed, were not the droning haze of midday laziness, but instead a gentle rustling as the world prepared for a bitter freeze.

Lexa sat a bit taller atop her horse despite the phenomenal aching in her ribs and pain behind her swollen eye. Still, despite it all, she gazed at the familiar territory and contemplated too many thoughts at once in her pounding head. The thud of the horses’ hooves on the well-trodden ground echoed between the branches, but the heat of the day seemed to soften the noises, not allowing them room to escape. She never realized how tall the trees were, how lush the green, how violent the brown, how alive each colour was, a character of their own right in the landscape before, so much different than the flat open plains of the south. The summer sunlight filtered through the clouds and the colours were different than they would be on any other day. This moment was unique and impossible, and Lexa finally enjoyed her home.

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bearly-tolerable  asked:

Can I request colors for an Abelas/Sene prompt? Like red and grey? If that’s too vague just yell at me.

Thank you @bearly-tolerable! <3 Your prompt is perfect. Here’s a little Sene and Abelas, about eight months before the Exalted Council. It’s…hopeful? More hopeful than I thought it would be, at least.

Canon Sene Lavellan and Abelas. Post-game. Pre-Trespasser. Solas left. Everything is terrible. (Sort of.)


Inertia

Sometimes, they would camp for days in the same bright spot, the same bright pool. They liked the Emerald Graves where the water was clearest, and Sene would commune with her ancestors, sitting by a tree, as the second elf who’d ever loved her touched her freckled chin. It was almost working. Their cheeks and shoulders were burnt from a summer outdoors, hunting demons in the fields. It was not all bad. It was not all bad. Between them, they moved like wind and restless energy. Building, building up until they caught in the tangled sea of the sun. Higher, said Sene. Higher. Deeper. In her mind’s voice it was all the same as they made love on the river banks. Muddy and cool.

Sene tried not to think too hard about her life, now that it had been more than a year. Time seemed to drink her all up, leave her out to dry, and she thought it was time to move on. So why the fuck couldn’t she? One day, she and Abelas made a trip into Val Royeaux, because Sene had heard that Sera might be there on Red Jenny business. For as hard as she worked to ignore her friends and her past, she sometimes missed the old days so hard, it made her brain feel like it was melting into the shape of a heavy brick. She met Sera anyway, while Abelas busied himself in the tavern, and they had a champagne lunch, picnic-style, by the docks.

“Saw who you’re with,” said Sera, spreading jam onto a cookie. “Not judging, just saw.”

“I meant to tell you,” said Sene.

“When?”

“I ran into him in the Frostback Basin,” she said. “It just happened, Sera.”

“Guess it’s only ancient men for you now, am I right?”

Sene finished her champagne. She poured another glass. Her hair was tied loosely at the base of her skull. She didn’t wear it much in braids anymore. She was different. She was changed, and she wanted to feel changed and to look changed. To everyone, including herself, in every way. “Does it matter?”

“Is it special?” said Sera, earnest.

“Is what special?”

“I mean, the fact that they’re old. Is it…different?”

“How would I know?” said Sene.

“I just–I don’t want to be judgy, like I said,” said Sera, playing at the frayed ends of the blanket. “I’m not, Sene. Promise. But part of me sort of thinks that you’re only with him because he reminds of you of–”

“Don’t,” said Sene. She wiped her mouth on a napkin. She watched the bubbles rising in her glass and felt the nothing ease of the afternoon get buried in the earth. She took a deep breath. She thought about the ocean.

She met Abelas at the bar after Sera left the city. He was sitting at a table, alone, watching the bard perform with wide open contentment. Uncomplicated, he seemed to find happiness wherever he looked, and this left him in a constant state of surprise. He liked the new world. That is what he told her. Things were calm and clean, and the people were simple in their brute manner of survival. The magics, the powers were so much smaller. Everything was manageable by comparison.

“Here, I can farm the earth without the threat of a dictator burning down my barn just because he didn’t like my elfroot crop that season.” He said it simply, without pretension. He folded up a rolling paper into the little shape of an elephant. Enchanted, it walked around the table, drinking from the rings of condensation left by the glass.

“I like your crop,” said Sene. “It’s very…robust.”

“Yes, well you would,” said Abelas. He smiled at her. She was sipping from his beer. She had sat down next to him on the same side of the table so she could see the bard, and now she put her head on his shoulder. She tried to hear what he heard, to see what he saw, finding magic in the mundane wood and features and light fixtures of the bar. Just people and their aimless chatter. Just people and their lives.

“How was your lunch?” he said after a little while. They did not always have reason to speak. It was the same anywhere. Riverbanks, taverns. It was all the same.

“It was fine,” she said. “It was good to see her.”

“Good,” he said. She felt him sort of nudge her hair out of his eyes then. He smoothed it behind her ear. “Do you want to spend the night in the city? I asked, and we can have the room above the tavern. Free of charge, because they know who you are.”

Sene laughed at this. There were scouts everywhere, even now. They were always watching in some capacity. She was still the Inquisitor, even if she had not been back to Skyhold in over six months. “We can go,” she said, sipping from the pint. “Unless you want to stay.”

“I’m good either way,” said Abelas. He took a deep breath, a big man. “I do like this bard though.”

“Her name is Lily,” said Sene.

“Lily?” he said. “That is a pretty word.”

“I’ve seen her once before at the Winter Palace. She is from Highever.”

“Do you know everyone, Ise?”

“Probably,” said Sene. She sighed. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her. “Let’s leave the city,” she went on. “Let’s go fishing.”

He sort of smiled at this. He turned his head so he could see her. The candlelight was warm on their skin as they tried not to think too hard about whatever this was, whatever this was between them. “Very good,” he said.

It was a gray area, between the hours of noon and midnight. Living in the world, where the people walked. It was hard to get away from the thing you were before, like a sickness that haunted. An old injury that kept coming back again and again. They left the city, and they hiked south, stopping to camp in the Heartlands, on their way back to the Dales. Abelas was drawn there, and she was drawn there after him. There were a lot of rifts in the Dales, like Solas had done it that way on purpose, left the Veil thinnest where she would need it most. In any case, she thought of him less those days. Even if only for a little while, at first, when the summer was hot. Before the storm.

Thoughts about Bravely Second’s Ending

I finished the game a couple of days ago, as I posted at the time. A friend of mine just completed it the other day and immediately wanted to talk to me about the final chapter, side-quests, and the credit scenes.

We had a big talk about loads of things but thing she was concerned was the ending credit scene with Edea. 

Since Edea is our favourite character we ended up having a big discussion about the game’s storyline and what it meant for the ending. To illustrate her points and mine, I took screenshots from the Event Viewer. I apologise for the poor quality.

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE WHOLE GAME AND EPILOGUE (Including screenshots):

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[Ambrose]: “England”

In the town of Shelford within the barony of Nottinghamshire, a boy of six had hardly completed his chores when he took up the nearest plank and became a hero.  It was unwieldy and poorly made, with a handle that begged splinters and a blade that was prone to shatter in two heroic passes, but to the lad it was his birthright and could have no more majestic.   “I am Sir Elmer de Carentan,” he declared with swelling triumph that could only come from a boy’s unchecked innocence.  He swung mightily then and cleaved into a host of foes that were so dismayed by his strength but tufts of dandelions were left to scatter in the blow’s passing.

From the shade of a tree and nursing a manual writ in Latin from one of her tutors, the bold warrior’s sister spoke with a voice sweet and careful. “Almire,” came her correction – inoffensive, but exact, “and there were no ‘sirs’ when he crossed with King William.”   She then added, with the special care that only a sister could manage, “but your French is much improved, little brother.”

“I am no brother,” challenged the lad, “I am Almire de Carentan!”
What a spirited cry he did give then, and the world did  tremble at his might.

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Critical Role Rewatch, Episode 33!

FUCK YOU, ANNA RIPLEY, THAT IS ALL!

  • In other news, the most adorable, completely Keyleth spell casting moment when she dispells Anna’s illusion lol:
    • “…” “…” “…Now, I do it now!”
    • Rest of VM: “…???”
    • “I’m not good with anticipation!”
  • “Is it…is it ‘Good Percy’ casting Friends, or ‘Shadow Monster Percy’ casting Friends?”
    • “We’ll never know - until he and Anna kill us all!”
    • “I’m getting a little creepy, I know.” “What do you mean, ‘getting creepy’?!?”
  • #NOMERCYPERCY
    • “You are at the moment, the luckiest person in Whitestone. Do you know why? Because you’re at the bottom of my list.”
    • DAAAAAMMMMMNNNNN
    • Seriously, no matter how many times I watch this part, still the same level of fucking bamf
    • “I found your recent work fascinating -” “I would be happy to give you a very personal and up-close demonstration.”
    • “I’m going to take a leap of faith, and believe contrary to all evidence that you’re a smart woman.”
    • Also: I can’t stop giggling at Travis’s facial expressions whenever Taliesin comes out with a particularly badass/terrifying/snarky line hahaha. He’s so impressed and proud each time!
  • Vax’ildan vs. the Doors of Whitestone, AGAIN
    • This time because Vex had pretended to try to pick the lock on Anna’s cell to placate her when they had originally planned to just leave her there, and Vex had broken off a lockpick in the lock. 
    • Takes longer than usual: “Sorry, this normally doesn’t happen to me, I swear!”
  • Taliesin/Percy: “Just as we’re walking, I just want to very gently take my gun -” Scanlan: “And shoot her!”
    • Me too, Scanlan, me too
  • Vex: “I would loot, but, well, it’s Percival’s home.”
    • Um…Vex…do you not remember attempting to loot the boxes in the lower level of the castle right after you got through the secret tunnel? Because I do! LOL
  • Grog throws caltrops in front of the main door, rest of VM congratulates him on such a smart idea.
    • “Grog, using your noggin!” “One a day, one a day!”
  • BEST MOMENT: Scanlan: “So you’re telling me that somewhere in this castle is a room full of caustic acid, that can destroy the very stones it’s built on?” “Yes.” “I reach into my bag, take out my potion of acid resistance - and I drink it.”
  • Taliesin rolls so many fucking Nat 20s that they all decide to ban the Golden Snitch die for the rest of the episode!
    • “You’re the anti-Wheaton!” “If you are Wil ever played in the same room, all RPGs would fold in on themselves and cease to exist.”
    • Marisha rolls the Golden Snitch die, immediately rolls a Nat 1. 
    • Taliesin immediately rolls a Nat 20 with a different die
    • “Are you…Jesus?” “No, I’m the devil. I’m the devil and I’ve come to do the devil’s work.”
    • Agrees to lick Laura’s and Travis’s dice hahaha
    • Rolls another Nat 20. Matt suggests he go to Vegas and find a D&D casino.
      • …..Hmmm, and what, might I remind all of you, shows up in a new city in about 30 or so episodes? Might it be a fucking casino for which Matt created 3 different actual games?!?
      • LMAO
  • CASSANDRAAAAAAA
    • Grog gets dominated by Anders, ordered to kill Vax. 
      • Scanlan: “It’s Hulk versus Wolverine!!!”
      • “Remember what he did to your beard!”
      • “I know! Is it me grinning, or is it dominated me grinning?”
    • Taliesin pretends to be absorbing Matt’s good dice rolls when Matt rolls badly - and then Matt immediately rolls two Nat 20s hahaha
      • Marisha: “You mock fate, fate punches you in the mouth!”
    • “This is the dawning of the Age of a-Groggius!”
    • Scanlan’s CLUTCH counterspell!
      • “Uh-uh, that door is locked, motherfucker! Get used to it, because I am!”
    • “You’re the face I saw when murder entered my heart. This is your doing.”
      • Percival, finally face-to-face with one of the people who had just straight-up betrayed his family, after working for them for so many years :(  :(  :(
    • And obviously I have to mention this line: “Percival, how are you?” “Fine.” “Darling - take the mask off.”
      • <3 <3 <3
  • We interrupt this imminent rebellion for a moment of love confession!
    • “You know I’m in love with you, right?”
    • Marisha starts hardcore blushing!
    • Matt just cackling in the background hahaha
    • “Roll for…contact?” “Roll for tongue action!”
    • “You know that way you turn into animals and stuff is really cool.”
  • We interrupt this love confession to bring you Percy beating the crap out of Vax with Vex’s arrows, for yet again busting into a dangerous situation without the rest of Vox Machina hahaha. 
  • Sibling Reunion!
    • Hugs, yay!
    • Matching stress hair.
    • The look on Percy’s face? This gentle sort of hope and soft happiness, oh Godddd.
    • The almost immediate sibling tension lol
    • “Percy -” “Oh, she’s so obnoxious - what?” “You have a sister!” “Oh, god, I do!” 
  • Cassandra de Rolo in her mother’s armour! <3
  • Bye, Anna, see you in REDACTED
    • Ooh, I wanna shoot her in the face
  • Percy gives Scanlan Anna’s (unloaded) pistol; Scanlan spins it around on his finger before holstering it, gunslinger style; would have shot his own foot if there had been any bullets in it haha
  • Scanlan turns everyone into Percy and Cassandra with Seeming - it is at once sweet and lovely, and very disturbing and weird.
    • “Abrasiveness is his most powerful weapon.”
    • Keyleth tries to have a moment with Vax, but suddenly realises she can’t actually tell which Percy is Vax. Scanlan immediately takes advantage of this.
    • “This is really creepy, because it looks like Percy and Cassandra are having a romantic moment!”
    • “Is there anyone who isn’t made uncomfortable by this??”
    • “Um…just…be careful.” Percy-pretending-to-be-the-Vax-Percy: “Of course, Keyleth.”
    • “So what’s the marching order guys?”
      • “Percy, Cassandra, Cassandra, Percy, Percy Cassandra…”
  • Scanlan’s SECOND Vicious Mockery HDYWTDT in Whitestone haha
    • “You’re not even corporeal! You have no substance! You’re a nothing! You’re a nobody! You won’t amount to NOTHING in this world! You were nothing in life and now you’re nothing in death!”
    • “Which one of my ancestors did you just shame to death, again?!?”
  • Scanlan Shorthalt: Devious Good Alignment
  • Percy fighting the wraiths, wincing every time a member of VM inadvertently destroys a part of his family’s crypt. 
  • Taliesin’s fucking wraith impressions when Percy gets possessed omfg. 
    • Vax decides to punch possessed-Percy with the symbol of Saranrae instead of, idk, just touching him with it? 
    • Vax punching someone with divine affection is so fucking in character I can’t even lol
    • Scanlan: “Can I just say - this is Percy beating up Percy right now!”
    • Percy: “I’m trying not to read too much into it. This is not a metaphor!”
  • “You got those moves with dagger, you got those moves with dagger…”
  • “Is there - is there any point in looting -” Percy: “NO!
Alice, Oh Alice || Jisoo || Pt. 4

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 //

Word Count: 3757

Genre: fantasy, Alice in Wonderland based!au, based on this oneshot (rewritten)

Summary: With a missing princess, a desperate fiancé, and the craziness of Wonderland, you wondered if you would ever make it back home with your head still on your shoulders.


Joshua sat on the trunk at the end of his bed. His feet were stretched out and his hands fell down past the trunk’s lid. He kept opening and closing the latch, the only sound in the room was his soft breathing and the sound of the latch opening and closing. He stopped momentarily, his fingers feeling the shape of the latch, and then he started again. His brain buzzed with various thoughts. You were staying at his mansion. Jeonghan was forcing you to stay too, so that meant it would be nearly impossible to get you out and back to your world even if he wanted to.

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Fic: All Souls Night / a.k.a: so you wanted more of Witch!Darcy and Jane?

I have come to the conclusion that this verse is definitely going to head more in an AU direction rather than sticking closely to movie canon, which leaves me open to play around with everyone’s backgrounds and just have far too much fun with the intertwined stories of Darcy and Jane in this universe (and because I have IDEAS about what’s going to happen in the future of this world and it’s going to be so AU and I can’t wait to tackle it).

In regards to the witchcraft in this part, it’s not based on any specific practice, but rather any number of traditions cobbled together to create the magic here.  So don’t go looking for any true accuracy here.  This part is also solely Gen with no ships in sight, even though there are a few very vague call forwards as to what could happen in Darcy’s future here. ;)

Tentatively titled ‘All Souls Night’ given that’s the song that I’ve had on constant repeat as I wrote this out tonight.  The video’s a few posts back and it’s highly worth a listen.

**********

If anyone is to ask ten year old Darcy Lewis what her favorite holiday is, she can safely say it is Halloween.  Of course, the way Grandma celebrates Halloween – or All Hallow’s Eve, or Samhain, she’s not quite certain of what the proper name her grandma calls it is, she’s still only just starting to learn about the way their world works – isn’t quite like the way the other kids at her school celebrate it.  But it’s so much better and so much more than what she had thought it to be.  There are still treats to be had and games to be played, but now there are the remembrances for their ancestors, the blessings for the year to come, and the celebrations and the dances.

And the bonfires.  She loves the bonfires.

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Jealous

Suhad could tell there was something wrong by the way he kissed her.

There was a hardness to the set of his lips and the exchange was devoid of the passion that usually fueled their embraces.

Normally, she would have outright asked Tutankhamun what was wrong. Despite the trouble it often brought her, she was never one to hold her tongue. This time, however, she decided to leave it be. He had been a bit distant with her since her suggestion of a peace offering between Egypt and the Mitanni went horribly wrong. Though she felt downright terrible for the occurrence and told him so often, she still conceded he had every right to be upset with her. Whatever was troubling him now was probably just related to the Mitanni, and since part of what plagued him was of her own creation, she granted him a reprieve from her normal line of questioning.

He pulled away from the kiss first, running a hand over her hair and gently placing his lips to her forehead.

She had found him staring at the intricate expanse of paintings on one of the palace walls, and his eyes returned to them now. Whether it was idols of the many gods they worshipped or records of his ancestors’ lives, he was always studying them with faraway eyes. Maybe he thought he could channel their power, their wisdom, their counsel if he only focused hard enough. But judging by his expression when his gaze shifted away from the wall, his inward pleas went unheeded.

He took her hand and she fell into step beside him as they embarked on a leisurely stroll about the palace. Suhad studied the intricate architecture of the place, finding herself marveling more and more with each sight she saw. Even though she had spent enough time in the palace to get acquainted with her surroundings, she still found herself getting lost in the corridors or stopping mid-stride to admire some art piece she noticed for the first time.

Tut saw her wandering eye and a small smile came to his lips. “How has life in the palace treated you?”

Suhad drug her eyes away from her surroundings and cleared her throat, a weak attempt to hide the fact that she had been gawking at the building like a commoner.

“Well enough.” She smoothed down her dress with her free hand, the well-worn skin still not used to the silky fabric. “The luxury of this life has been nice. But I must admit I prefer the simplicity of life in my village.”

His smile dropped a bit. “I understand. I enjoyed the brief time I was allowed to experience it.” His eyes grew distant. “Simplicity. Much preferred to the chaos of this place.”

He caressed her face and the light touch nearly made her stumble.

“I hope you know it is still your choice. I will not force you to be here. To be with me.”

She stared at him, surprised at the turn in conversation. She had not meant to imply she was unhappy, because she was not. The grandeur of the palace was just a bit hard to grow accustomed to.

His dark eyes locked with hers, and though his face was the picture of strength, she saw the fear there. The pleading. The love.

She lifted their entwined hands to her lips and kissed the top of his knuckles. “I choose to be here. With you.” She put extra emphasis on the last two words and his gaze softened.

His smile returned and he kissed her fingertips as they continued to walk. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but she dismissed it.

“Besides, life here has not been so bad.” Suhad attempted to steer the conversation back on track from its rather gloomy turn. “I made a friend today.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Don’t tell me the Vizier has finally decided to emerge from his shell.”

She scoffed at the joke, remembering the disdain with which the man regarded her. “No. His son, actually.”

She chuckled at the memory of him in the market. “He ate a raw onion for the first time today. A raw anything, for that matter. It’s a wonder he’s never gotten sick seeing as he didn’t know…”

She trailed off noticing Tutankhamun’s silence and the stiffness of his hand in hers. His eyes had grown stormy and once again, his smile was gone.

Suhad stopped walking, pulling him to a stop by way of their interlaced fingers. “What is wrong?”

He said nothing and tried to remain expressionless, but his eyes betrayed him. They always did.

“You’ve been acting strangely since I first spoke to you this evening.” The words she had been holding back were flowing full-force now, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. “I have tried to be patient because of the wretched state of things lately, but you cannot be upset and not tell me what is the matter. If we are to be together…“

Suhad stopped abruptly and studied his face. He didn’t look angry or outraged, he looked…embarrassed. Her anger evaporated as she put together the pieces. The hesitant kiss. The reminder she was free to leave him. The look in his eyes at the mention of her venture with Nakhtmin.

“Are- Are you jealous?”

His eyes widened but he raised a brow. “Of who?”

“Of Nakht. With me.” She continued, not falling for his play at ignorance. “You think that he and I…”

Suhad couldn’t help herself, she burst out into a fit of laughter.

He watched her for a moment before sighing. “I saw you with him in the courtyard today and I assumed-“

“You assumed I fancied him?” Her laughter died down and she looked over his sheepish face.

“I have neglected you since you’ve been here. With the disease spreading and the threat of another battle with the Mitanni, I have not had nearly as much time to spend with you.” He paused. “I thought maybe, you sought attention elsewhere.”

A smile lingered on Suhad’s lips but his words sobered her. Despite all his royal pretense, he really was what everyone called him: the boy king. One who was subject to emotions of love or even jealousy, just like any other. With all the formalities she had seen him go through these past few weeks, all the talk of war and status, she had lost the boy she met while trading. The boy she had brought back from near death. But now, looking into the eyes that always betrayed him, she could see him again. And though she loved Tut through and through, she preferred the boy to the rigid monarch he’d been as of late.

 “How many times must I tell you?” She took a step toward him. “While Nakhtmin is a good friend and well worth a laugh, he does not have my heart.” She placed one hand over her chest and another over his. “My heart belongs to you.”

He placed his own hand over hers and smiled. “And mine to you.”

They stood there for a moment, feeling the beat of each other’s hearts before continuing on their leisurely stroll.

After a few minutes of silence, Suhad chuckled. “I still can’t believe it. The mighty pharaoh. King of Egypt. Jealous of the Vizier’s son.” She teased, bumping his shoulder.

His face was stern, but his eyes mirrored her own mirth. “I am not jealous.”

“Yes, you are.” She challenged.

He stopped walking and Suhad looked around to discover they had reached his chambers.

“Nakhtmin is a good man,” His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her face to his.  “But I know he could never have what is mine.”

This time when they kissed, there was no denying the passion between them.

Character Analysis + In defense of: Kuran Kaname

I know its been years long since VK ended but I haven’t had the time to evaluate this lone wolf and why I think he’s a misunderstood character. I simply cannot overlook the fact that he is hated for petty reasons only. Just a friendly reminder, the other characters are no different from him.

I used to be Zero’s fan but after understanding Kaname a little bit, I have grown attached to his character. As a fan of the series, I had troubles understanding who the real Kuran Kaname is and why I am willing to be emotionally invested in him and quite honestly it is a little bit confusing. 

He greatly piqued my interest and I don’t regret the fact that I converted from Zero to Kaname. And to be honest, I don’t think that will ever change anymore. But that doesn’t mean I no longer like Zero, oh no, I still do like him in fact. They both don’t deserve the hate to be honest.

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Silent Night - A Christmas Song

I have written about this in many other posts before, but I find this so mindblowingly beautiful that I feel it deserves its own post: 

If you have watched The Husbands Of River Song, the next thing you need to do right now is to re-watch A Christmas Carol. Because that Christmas special is one big, beautiful metaphor for the Doctor and River’s story. Down to the last little detail. Five years before the Singing Towers and three years before Trenzalore - in his very first Christmas special ever, Moffat was outlining the entire thing for us, including River Song’s encounter with Twelve. Be prepared to be blown away (I hope).

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Girl Meets the Great Lady of New York is probably the episode I’m most critical of so far? I’m glad they chose this lesson, but I feel like they really played it safe, and it almost makes it hurt worse that they got so close to being able to talk about the broken and painful foundation our country was founded on, but instead glossed over it in favor of the “acceptable” horror to talk about. 

The Holocaust is horrible, and I have been incredibly emotionally moved when I think about the great atrocities that happened, and how long we overlooked them, and how often antisemitic hatred continues to this day. I’ve been to the Museum of Jewish History in Berlin, the Jewish Cemetery in Prague, The Anne Frank house and the museum of Dutch Resistance in Amsterdam. It is a truly horrific event that deserves to be remembered and never forgotten. 

My issue is that it’s also the one we most often like to jump to, and by WE, I mean white folk, as the go to tragedy to sober people up and remind them the world is actually an awful and unjust place, with unspeakable pain and suffering stamped over history. And I think it is in part because white folk can picture themselves playing a part in this story because jewish folk “pass” for white, and because we love to grab onto all the undercover Christian resistance workers who helped smuggle and save people (as GMW did this week)… so again, a clear “hero” we can identify with when remembering, plus we get the big victories of D-Day and liberation of the camps, so we get to pat ourselves on the back because, yes, this was horrible, but good on us, we stopped it. 

Whereas Zay’s family story and equally if not more terrible suffering is just glossed over and alluded to even less obviously. I do appreciate they had Zay clearly being the only one who understands the pain Farkle is facing when he realizes the horror his ancestors went through, but it felt wrong for Zay to just gloss over the line “my family was brought from Ghana” BROUGHT, like they put it in there, they were clear, but also Zay doesn’t dwell, and doesn’t force any of his friends to stop and put it together that Zay’s family were slaves. Yes they eventually were freed and built a free life in Texas at some point, but his family came to America as items to be bought and sold, against their free will, and ripped from their homes and culture back in Ghana. 

Zay glosses over it and gives a sugar-coated happy ending, “but everything’s all right now” when instead it could have been such a perfect opportunity for Zay to reflect on how painful it is to know this about his family, and how much his family continued to struggle, and how much original culture was lost, etc. Anything, really, would have been better than what they gave us, which was the “talk about it but make sure it’s in a way no white person has to feel any white guilt for how terrible their ancestors were” 

Like, give me the story about how Riley discovers her ancestors were slave owners and connects that Zay’s family were slaves. THAT’S a story of America. In fact, one of my friends just this week has been struggling with the realization that her great-grandfather was a cop in Atlanta in the 40s, in a jurisdiction she discovered that was basically all klan members- all the cops were in the KKK there basically. And she’s married to a black man and has 4 beautiful brown kids ages 2-7, and she struggles daily with how to raise them to see representation and to love themselves, and this week has been grabbling with how do I reconcile my family’s history with my current family, how do you find peace knowing that your ancestors were hateful, oppressive, evil? And just TODAY, one of her children said “I don’t want to have black skin,’ those words came out of a 5 year old’s mouth. That is America, that is America today. 

Give me Riley and Zay having to confront their different histories and the conflict their ancestors were once in, Riley having to accept that pain, and them recognizing their history while rejoicing in their friendship and having hope that the future will be better, because they will remember the past and not let it repeat. 

Heck, give me Farkle realizing his ancestors were Nazis. That’s not an easy story to tackle, that’s not a fun thing to confront, but that’s the story a large part of their audience NEEDS to. I need to confront the fact that my ancestors were racist, that my family is privileged because of centuries of oppression of an entire race of people in this country. That’s not fun, but it’s important. 

Or, with the Cambodian story, which was beautiful and I’m glad they included it…. how easy it would have been to talk more about the pain, fear of refugees, and how still today many must flee their country, how America has often been the safe place for refugees… again, a perfect opportunity to touch on the Syrian refugee crisis…. in fact, let’s pull back in the Holocaust and talk about how many human rights are being violated, how people are being starved and gassed and attacked in their own country still today. 

There was just so much MORE it could have done, and to me the episode fell incredibly flat, and was deafening with it’s silence on these harder topics. 

Yes, let’s celebrate the rich cultures we come from, but let’s not shy away from the pain and conflict looking into our history might bring up. Let’s talk about it, really talk about it. Don’t gloss over it, act like it wasn’t a big deal, didn’t matter, didn’t have a lasting impact….  

I WILL say that the show 1) emphasized to ask people about their stories, and genuinely listen and care about the answer and 2) was written just obviously subtle enough that I think it will make kids who are watching it ask their parents “what was that about? what did they mean by that?” and I will at least acknowledge that the opening to have personal, direct discussion at an early age IS a good thing. I just wish they had been brave enough to push a little bit harder. 

Solas x Lavellan: A Dance in Faded Halamshiral

♦: Slow dancing

Was going to make this an ask but it ran long, so yeah. There is some slight seriousness to this (and some fun Solas interpretations so spoilers). Solas and Ellinara Lavellan dance in the Fade in the remnants of an old ballroom in Halamshiral, before its fall. Clearly I’m taking a lot of liberties.

This entire thing is spoiler-city. DO NOT read if you haven’t done the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts quest.

Ellinara never wanted to go to another ball again. She leaned against the balcony railing at the Winter Palace, tired, exhausted, and done with all things noble. She wasn’t even wearing her formal attire anymore, just the hunter chainmail of her people. Yet Morrigan came to see her, said she would be going back to Skyhold with them as an arcane adviser. Lovely.

Solas passed Morrigan up as the witch left, eyebrow quirked. Yet he looked at Lavellan, saw her weariness, and said nothing about the golden-eyed woman.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here.” He leaned next to her. “Thoughts?”

Her sigh didn’t convey her frustration. “It’s been a very long day.”

“For everyone, I’d imagine.” He rubbed her back. The music drifted over them and he smiled. “Come, before the band stops playing. Dance with me.”

Lavellan was surprised to see him bow so properly and, grinning, took his hand. “I’d love to.”

His steps were graceful. She had learned to dance for fun because she found the act only helped her hunting, knowing how to be even more fleet of foot and coordinated. But why did he know how?

“Do they have many balls in the Fade? Or were you born knowing the proper Orlesian dances?” She changed up her steps, complicated the rhythm to see if he could keep up.

Of course he did. When had he not? He was smiling in that way, that hungry way that made her heart flutter. Her thoughts stopped asking questions. His eyes were sharp, full of unspoken wisdom and experience. And his lips…

She messed up her timing and stepped on his foot. He laughed. “You are too hasty, lethallan. Dancing is a slow thing.”

“Not if you’re doing it right.”

The edge of his mouth lifted, and his grin became wolfish. “You said once you wanted to explore the Fade here, to see what Halamshiral was.” He released her and bowed again, except this time it was a coy invitation. “Come with me, vhenan.”

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