I said I wasn't going to get started on the topic of Aveline ruining Carver's chances with the guard but I lied okay, it's Carver Hawke defense hours.
Here's the thing; it doesn't matter if you believe Carver was or wasn't fit for the guard. That's a different debate that I'll get to. What matters is Aveline's in no position to tell the guard not to accept his application. Why does she think that's her right to judge whether or not he's fit?
Carver should've had the chance to prove himself one way or another. If it turns out he's not a good fit, then let him fail. Let him learn from it.
"Oh but failure could mean lost lives-"
Aveline doesn't get to talk shit about failure and the people. Plenty have died on her watch yet she still believes she's a good guard and Guard-Captain.
"maybe Aveline's protecting him, Carver could die while on patrol-"
Carver could die working in the Bone Pit, or serving as a templar, or when he's running around with Hawke. Carver could trip and fall down a set of stairs and die. In fact, he can die in the Deep Roads, somewhere he wouldn't have to go if the Hawke's weren't desperate.
Either Carver fails as a guard, or more likely, he succeeds and proves himself worthy of it.
But let's be real, Carver probably kept getting rejected due to being a Fereldan with a past of smuggling/mercenary work and Aveline only reaffirmed the decision, either because they asked her what she thought or she stuck her nose in unprompted.
But what irritates me is that she admits to telling them not to accept his application, and then has the balls to call Carver too proud to take up a trade or find another line of work.
Carver tells her, "And who would take on a Fereldan apprentice? Maybe in another year I could work my way up to pissboy." He has a good point here. Aside from the guard, the only other place Carver could work and use his skillset is with the Templars. Or go back to mercenary/smuggling work.
And Aveline doesn't even have a real answer for him. No suggestions, no encouragement, nothing. Just "Fine, let's crawl down some holes. Good bloody luck for your sake."
Also, if you do the Mark of the Assassin DLC in Act 1-
Aveline: You should see if any of the noblemen are looking for new men-at-arms.
Carver: Are you trying to get rid of me?
Aveline: It's a role with some autonomy. A good fit with your training and... tendencies.
Carver: After serving King Cailan? You want me to suffer some poncy git who needs two servants to wipe his own ass? I'll find my own way, thanks.
Aveline: I wish you would.
You wish he would?? Aveline, he was trying to find his way into the guard, a position he'd make a good fit for, and you helped deny him of it because YOU didn't think he would be good enough, I just-
If I haven't made it clear yet, I firmly believe that Carver would've made a great guard. He wants to help people, to be a protector. He's loyal, and despite what Aveline claims, he can follow orders and take his duty seriously. We see him do incredibly well with the Grey Wardens, after all. If he were a guard, he wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads with Hawke, and I think he would've been okay with that! He's so hurt and bitter when you leave him behind because that effectively tells him, "I don't need you." Carver's spent the whole first act telling you he wants to go on the expedition aka that he wants to be needed.
But if he were a guard, he would be needed elsewhere. He'd be in training as a recruit. He'd look after Leandra while you go. He wouldn't be backed into a corner with no income and only the templars left as his chance at forging his own path and providing for his family.
He doesn't get that opportunity, though.
By the way, if he becomes a warden, you can get this banter:
Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens.
Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do.
Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you.
Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?
Aveline: Well...
This banter makes me want to scream.
Aveline's just... she's so insistent that she's right. She's someone who will double down rather than entertain the idea that she's wrong and it's not just with Carver and the guard, it's with everything. The "my beef with Aveline" list gets longer and longer every time I replay da2, I swear.
Say what you will about Carver, whether you think he would've been a good fit or if Aveline's right and it wasn't for him, he was denied a chance and it cost him so much in the end. He either dies, or he joins the templars where he deals with Chantry's bullshit trying to brainwash him with "mages aren't people" and "magic is a cancer in this world", or he's infected with the blight and becomes a Grey Warden, forced to serve the rest of his life fighting darkspawn, tormented by voices and nightmares.
I will never not be bitter about this.
817 notes
·
View notes
s12 destiel from dean's perspective is explanation enough for why dean is sooooo insane after that season. like.
- first he almost kills himself for the greater good or whatever and has to come to terms with like. dying. on purpose. and then he is given the gift of life but before he can be like yay! i can go home! his mom is back from the dead??? and his brother is missing???
- then his mom leaves him bc she wants to figure out who she is and even tho he's like a 38 yo man it fucks w him a lot understandably.
-they get arrested and put in SOLITARY for a while and when they finally get out and meet cas again (at which point dean has once again come to terms with dying for the greater good but also mostly his mom and brother this time), he KILLS THE REAPER THEY MADE THE DEAL WITH AND GETS ALL EMOTIONAL??? after which he proceeds to fuck off bc he is Busy™ tracking lucifer etc.,
- then they get a lead and CAS ALMOST DIES IN FRONT OF HIS EYES and throws an I love you in his goodbye speech for the lolz. which. hahaha. anyway cas lives but turns out his mother — with whom he's trying to connect so badly so he can achieve full Normalcy — was like. lowkey responsible for his almost death. so they're fighting now.
- cas receives a divine voicemail from his close friend and colleague and then they go on that case with Lily sunder and ISHIM BEATS CAS UP AND THREATENS TO KILL HIM and even after they beat him Lily Sunder is like. I'm gonna go do some soul searching and if im in the mood I'll come back and KILL YOU. THREAT. and cas is like 😔 fair. so you know.
- there is also an instance of him losing his memories which is scary. and it's like. being intimately familiar with that experience is. something else. as a memory loss girlie let me tell you 👍🏽😄
- and then!!!!! lucifer's unborn child mind melds with his wifehusband — once more in front of his own two eyes — and "manipulates" him into running away with the pregnant lady instead of staying and Figuring Out A Solution. and when they finally do find cas, they are with them for all of 12 hours before HE DIES. FORREAL THIS TIME. AND LIKE THAT'S IT. NO COMING BACK FROM THAT ONE!
this is not an exhaustive list bc i don't remember everything but. like you know. he was primed to get worse and worse. all things that happen in s12 are out of his control but they are also things that happen in front of his eyes, and in ways that make him think that perhaps he did have control over them and he did fuck up some way and he *should* have done something to change the course of their lives so he's filled with guiltshame about it. and he decides that the solution to not losing anyone in the foreseeable future is to just. Control Every Possible Aspect Of Their Existence. which is impossible and that's why he gets mad all the time but YOU KNOW. YOU CAN SEE WHY HE'S CRAZY. poor s12 dean man.
87 notes
·
View notes
(9/8) prompt: colorful — 982 words (fame au pt.2; ft. drunk and whiny james - pt.1, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5) @jegulus-microfic
Regulus can barely make out the shadowy silhouette of James on the screen of his phone, just the occasional glimpse and the reflection of colorful flashing lights catching on the lenses of his glasses. He’s so close to muting the call, because the loud music of the club that James is at is just shy of annoying, not to mention the fact that Regulus has an early call time on set in the morning. He’s in bed already with only the bedside lamp on and everything. But he and James haven’t been able to catch each other outside of sparing texts every few hours for the last couple days, so when he saw the FaceTime call, he picked up.
He misses his boyfriend, sue him.
James clearly feels the same way, because for what’s now the fifth time, he brings the phone closer to his face just to loudly, drunkenly whine, “Baby, I miss you.”
“It’s just a few more weeks, baby. We’ll be alright,” Regulus mumbles.
It’s a mantra they’ve both adopted since his filming really got underway. One that’s kept them holding on through the harder days of separation. Regulus is in France and James is still finishing the last leg of the band’s tour. In a perfect world, Regulus would be able to follow city to city, but he’s got a job, too.
“Think of the closing show,” He offers as some semblance of comfort.
Their first public appearance, the only true confirmation made by them to the press that they are in fact together. Because despite the fact that it’s been months, and they’ve been dodging rumors and cameras like it’s a second job to them, they haven’t done that yet. Taken that step. They decided the end of The Marauders’ tour was their best bet unless they wanted to wait until Regulus’ next premiere invite (they didn’t; it’s another two months away). Regulus will be flying back to London for the final night of tour, taking a long weekend before his return for his final weeks of filming. James will be going with him.
“What?” James is practically yelling now to be heard, and the momentarily higher volume makes Regulus’ eye twitch.
You love him, you love him, you love him. He reminds himself to avoid irritation.
“James, why don’t I just try to call you tomorrow?” He tries.
Colorful lights flash brighter over the screen, stinging Regulus’ eyes when James brings his phone nearer to his ear, unthinking of the camera facing the club’s ceiling.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He repeats, voice a touch too loud for the late hour in his hotel suite.
“No, no, no, wait, hang on,” James mutters quickly, words slurring together a little.
Regulus sighs and turns his face into his pillow while James is distracted. Honestly, he’s exhausted. Did a thirteen hour day of shooting and has to be back at it first thing, but where six months ago he would have hung up on James drunk calling him two minutes into the call, now he’s hanging on to every second he gets. He buries how pathetically infatuated that is of him the best he can. They are together, after all, his feelings don’t have to feel so much like a nuisance anymore.
James ends up outside of the club after a minute, the change in volume stark. The colors dancing over him are gone and instead it’s the yellow of street lamps that illuminate him a bit better on the screen. His face comes into view, glasses slightly crooked on his nose and cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol he’s consumed.
“Hi, baby.” James smiles adoringly at his phone and Regulus feels like he could combust.
His mouth twitches at the edges as he tucks his free hand beneath his cheek against his pillow. “Hi, darling.”
“Miss you.”
“You mentioned that once or twice.”
“Can’t wait to see you. I have airline apps and miles, gonna get a flight to you right now.”
“Mhm, I’m sure you are.”
James pouts. “You don’t believe me.”
“You’re a little drunk, baby,” Regulus notes.
“Can still get on a plane,” James argues.
“You don’t want to be here, I have to kiss my costar a lot,” Regulus teases gently.
Dramatically, James drops his head back on his neck and groans, loud and anguished. And damn it, even that is endearing of him somehow. Regulus is fucked.
“Hate this so bad, Reg,” James complains.
“I know, baby, I know.” A sigh, then a yawn. James is staring at him through the phone when he blinks slowly.
“You’re tired,” He says, brow creased. “Wait, did I wake you up?”
“Probably should have asked that about fifteen minutes ago,” Regulus chuckles. “But no. Was already in bed, though.”
“Miss being in bed with you.”
Regulus doesn’t offer any of the insinuating remarks he might typically. James is drunk so it’d probably go right over his head anyway. Aside from that, the fact is Regulus knows the feeling.
“Soon. A few more weeks. We’ll be alright.”
James sighs, but there’s a lazy smile curled at his lips, yellow light making his glassy eyes shine. “Yeah, we’ll be alright.”
“Now, please—” Regulus cuts off on another, longer yawn before shaking his head where he lays. “Please go back inside and find my brother before you drunkenly wander into some stranger’s arms just because you want a cuddle.”
“I’d never,” James stresses before he abruptly laughs giddily. When the unexpected string of laughter fades, he shines so bright with his joy that Regulus can’t help but smile in return. “I’m dating a movie star.”
“You’re so drunk,” Regulus snorts. “Go back inside. Text me to let me know you’re alive later.”
“I’ll always text you, Reg. Always always.”
“Okay, baby. I’m going to sleep now, alright?”
“I miss you.” Seventh times the charm, apparently.
“I miss you, too.”
204 notes
·
View notes
Thinking very very heavily about the batkids (specifically Jason and Damian) with separation anxiety? Oh, Man.
There's just a buzz of tension shaking the manor; That's how Cass would put it best.
Her baby brothers, - not young in bodies, but young in hearts, always little to her and Dick, - masking their worry, their unease, their anxiety so well. It'd look as so, to the untrained eye, but Cass knows better.
She knows Jay by the heel of his boot (dirty on purpose) beating on the carpet. His nibbled fingernails. A constant eye on his phone.
He knows Damian by irritation and chubby cheeks puffed out, and stomping. Tim tells him to stop being a brat, and that it's actually nice having the manor to themselves without Bruce brooding around.
"As always, you live to be what you were destined to be; A predictable failure. "
Tim snorts, "At least I'm not a short failure."
Duke coughs around his fast, "Not AS short,"
"Bruce gives you his favorite mug and you start acting up!"
"It's weird," Jason's as tall as the fridge he pretends to rummage through.
His movements tell Cass he's trying to busy himself, put things in his hands so his feet won't take off out the door and drag Bruce back, "3-hour meeting? He'd text by now. Did anyone get a text? I mean, - he's the only one who knows where my old books are. I need them. For...None of your business!"
"We didn't ask?"
"DID ANYONE GET A DAMN TEXT?!"
Damian climbs Cass like an abnormally angry squirrel, small fingers around her Huntress hoodie, reeling her in, "Did Baba text you? You're the princess. The favorite after me, -"
"After YOU?"
"Silence, Todd! Your moment died when you did!"
Jason quietly stares at the door.
Dick says, with all the softness and warmth and sweetness in the world, "Can you not? Please? We can wait for Bruce riiight here, mhm. I'll let you shoot Tim in all non-lethal areas,-"
"He tried; He MADE them lethal, Dick."
" And when Bruce comes back, you can pick the movie, even if it's gonna be that 3-hour long eye contact porn between Elizabeth and Darcy, and --,"
It seems like they've exhausted Damian's thinning patience.
He jumps on Jason's back, "MARCH, TODD, MARCH!" And gone they are.
"...Should we tell them Bruce is napping in the attic?"
"Nah; I'll just tell them he specifically asked me not tell them where he was. He took my Superman hoodie again."
873 notes
·
View notes