#and they bite (metaphorically and literally)
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MERU😭😭😭 i finally had a free moment to relax and the first thing i wanted to do was play hold your tongues and i've spent the last few hours pouring over how absolutely beautiful of a piece it is in storytelling and visuals. i genuinely have so much to gush over and idk where i should be doing it so into your inbox it goes. i apologise in advance, you also don't have to respond to this bc 1) i am aware it's gonna get vv long and 2) spoilers will definitely be mentioned
i hope sel knows what an absolute gem of a writer she is for executing all of this bc i am fucking gobsmacked by how well certain ideas and concepts were interwoven throughout the entire piece. maybe a lot of the things following are just my interpretations, but that's another thing i really really love — there's enough ambiguity in the prose to be able to infer it in so many different ways
first to the namesake of the game, ‘hold your tongues’ and the many connotations of tongues that are explored throughout; as symbols of liberation and entrapment that intermingle so so well. i feel like the game really delves into the struggles that women face in society, in relationships, just in general and i like how since it's done so through maelyn's own perspective, we're privy to a more complex and raw display of how deeply emotionally scarring it can be.
eric is a little bitch imo (i won't retract that statement ever) but the ever judgmental, taunting and superior tone he has as the ‘voice’ in maelyn's head speaks volumes of the character he possessed and the lasting impact it had on her. giving her dress to another man makes her ‘unfaithful’, the fact that it's emphasised that these are only ‘remains’ of a dress too — bc eric left her with shreds, physically, mentally.
if we take the dress to act as a metaphor for maelyn herself, he left her in shreds.
in response to this, maelyn bites her tongue, so hard that it bleeds. it's restraint, quite literally biting back your anger and the feeling of being wronged. grounding yourself again to the harsh reality of it all, and it brings her back to the present moment when starling points it out.
we see a similar occurrence later on when maelyn relays her tongue ‘longing for a taste, was to be kept down.' so again, she stops herself (and i think the wording here is particularly interesting, that it was to be kept, so intrinsically this too may also link to how women are commonly taught to be submissive and forced to fit to certain standards).
in both contexts, the act of biting the tongue can be taken as a suppression of some sort of desire — the first is the desire to be mad, and the second is the desire of lust. both which women have been criticised for through the ages.
i also like to think that the tongue is a representation of freedom. starling is very much making wings to fly out of them, and taking them away from ppl has ‘forever deprived of their ability to lie’ (in which case lying = freedom, i won't expand on this too much bc it'll be another whole essay😭) so going back to maelyn, her biting hers can also be seen as her freedom being hurt, prevented.
another thing is, the line just before ‘he never ran out of tongues’, we can take this as starling never having his freedom threatened. and it poses further questions. is this because of his strength? is it because he has the ocean ‘wholly’? is it because he's a ‘man’?
on my first run through, one of the most prominent questions i came away w/ was what was it that attracted maelyn to starling? to the concept of these monsters of the sea that had surpassed human constraints that had her waiting out all those hours to catch a glimpse of one to begin with. what was it that kept her coming back? time and time again, day after day when she could've not gone back to that shore after leaving.
the text narrates a couple of things that i think contributed, there's a sense of warring humanity and animosity in the repetitive motifs of dirt and uncleanliness, in her noting that starling looked ‘half a man’ and that one half could've ‘consumed’ the other. maelyn has an envy that's touched upon frequently. does maelyn want to be closer to a monster so that no one can hurt her? or does she feel like a monster is all she can be now?
then there's a dynamic with power that was honestly done so well. again, my praise to sel for how well thought out it all was. that part where she put her hand into his guts and he made sounds he was ‘unable to control’, another when she tells him ‘cut’ and he does so without question — she recognises she holds the reins in that moment, acknowledges, ‘in control, I breathed.’
starling listens to her for the most part, it's a reoccuring theme. even when making his wings, he's following her instructions although it's made clear that he learns quick and is capable. perhaps this gives her comfortability.
but we see this turn on its head when things start to go left, starling begins to do as he pleases and maelyn is taken back into her trauma, back to feeling ‘disgusting’ and ‘unclean’, she even apologises and promises to do better.
leashes are mentioned a few times, maelyn first describes them as a sort of ‘necklace’ — perhaps this is tribute to the way a woman's submission is often beautified and normalised. the ‘leash’ starling puts on her in one of the ends is made of pearls, he keeps it in his mouth before this. could this be a reference to eric's sweet words that bound maelyn before he revealed himself? starling ties it somewhat loosely ‘so she could breathe’ yet that doesn't take away the fact that it's still there. it has a sort of your cage is not small, but that doesn't mean you're not locked in it kinda feel.
there's so much more i could say but i think ive alr said too much😭 i didnt even get to touch on the cuddle ending which was my favourite, or the symbolism of losing fingers, the significance of the numbers two, three and four to the story. I DIDN'T EVEN TALK MUCH ABT THE ART😭😭 MERU SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED BUT THE ART WAS PHENOMENAL❗️❗️❗️❗️
maelyn is super pretty and i love how her and starling contrast each other in design so nicely. starling's expressions were stellar ++ the bgs and cgs were beautiful (you're right, if you didn't clarify it i would think you were behind the chest one haha). also the body horror aspect was really brought to life with the visuals and ik it definitely mustn't have been easy drawing all those organs, thank you for your service meruuuu
i'll shut up here before i write another 3k, but both you and sel did such a great job w/ this. the two of you deserve a nice break to rest so pls make sure to take things easy and take care of yourselves!! drink water and sleep when you can, and know that you've made a masterpiece♥️
OH MY GOD THIS ASK IS MAKING ME GO FERAL
It's so well written??? You did such a good job picking up the details hidden behind their lines??? I fish you continued writing because I for sure did not want to finish it and please do send the other thoughts you had if you can, I love this so much
I'm sure @celerifleuri will too so I'll tag her
You already mentioned the spoilers at the start but I'll also note it down here for people who haven't played the game yet. I'm sure sel will do a much better job answering your story analyses but I'll also say you're completely right with most things you've said.
The story takes place in 1800s with dated gender roles we unfortunately can still relate to. Maelyn is a curious woman who wants to study and experiment, but is being held back by society and even people who she thought she could trust, but again Sel will do a better job explaining those.
I'll talk about the art a bit. One thing I really enjoyed that was kinda unintentional on my part was the use of night and day.
The story starts at night time, the first ever cg we get of Maelyn is her jumping down the cliff, with the moon's reflection on her left and the waves giving an illusion of wings as she looks up, in that very moment she is free.
On the other hand the first ever cg of Starling is day time. The sun is shining brightly from his left, almost blindingly, as he looks down. His hair covering the screen like spider webs.
To contrast these, it's night time in the wood ending. Just like the first cg of Maelyn, we can see the soft moonight shining upon them but not quite reaching Starling's face. Maelyn is alive.
Meanwhile in the bone ending, even though they are underwater we can tell it's day time, just like the first Starling cg. We get to see a glimpse of them through the seaweeds covering our view, the sunlight showering them gently. Starling is alive.
For the character designs too, a bit of a reverse but I'd say Maelyn resembles the sun, meanwhile Starling is like the moon.
They both share green eyes, although quite different shades. Maelyn has bright red hair that contrasts Starling's red tongue tail.
I also like that Maelyn's hair, albeit a bit loosely, is braided and kept tidy. Meanwhile Starling's hair is usually all over the place and quite messy.
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Banal Nadas
I wrote this literally years ago, but it actually became canon, so beware spoilers for Veilguard. (I feel powerful, lmao.)
Ilaana Lavellan meets a spirit in the Fade in a moment of anguish--a spirit with a lesson to help her save her beloved.
***
“It was not supposed to happen this way,” the spirit breathes, and it sounds so like him that I am rooted to this patch of the Fade.
“His words,” I say softly, looking around as if I will see his eyes upon me, as I so often have.
“Yes,” the spirit says. “You are here now, and it has happened this way.”
“This is also correct.”
I am in a vast forest, the Brecilian Forest, I think, though I have never seen it in life.
“To find interesting parts of the Fade, one must be interesting.”
“Also his words.” I look at the spirit curiously. It hovers between two enormous ironbarks, titans in their presence, the two trees so close they should never have grown to such size.
The metaphor sinks in a moment too late. I wince.
“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”
Curiosity will quickly become annoyance. I move onward, trying to hold tight to my purpose tonight. I’m running out of time. I’m running out of time.
“Var lath vir suledin!” The spirit is anguished, as I was anguished when I said the words.
I stop. “My words. Why?”
“In another world.” Something of this spirit clearly relates to me and Solas so strongly it seems to want to regurgitate much of our most painful conversations.
“I’ll bite,” I tell it. “Why not this one?”
“You are asking better questions,” the spirit says.
It turns away, in a different direction than I planned to go, but I have made friends with Acceptance, Compassion, Wisdom, Hope. I have even soothed Despair into Resolve. Apathy into Purpose. I am a Dreamer, now, in full. If I am not so skilled as Solas, well. Empires and nations rose and fell while he learnt what I have tried to cobble together in a handful of years with a ticking clock ready to explode the world. Demons come to me to find themselves. Sometimes they try to kill me. Usually I reach for them, and they change. Sometimes they change me, bit by bit.
If this spirit wants me to follow, I will follow.
It moves down a path between trees, and it gains form as I watch, but it holds nothing for long. It looks like him for a moment, then it looks like me. I see him as I saw him in Redcliffe, in Haven, in the ruins, over the broken fragments of his orb. I see myself with my vallaslin, without it. I see myself and Cullen, eyes full of love, under an arch at Halamshiral with Mother Giselle there to marry us. I am wearing a white dress, such a human dress, such a human thing, but with my long-gone vallaslin clear on my face. I am dressed as a sentinel, a Sha-Brytol, a Keeper, a scout. I am resplendent in robes of gold and silver, my hair sparkling with diamonds like stars. He stands proud, Fen’Harel, a rebel god who loves me. My freckles are gone. My freckles are darker, my skin tanned and weathered by the sun. Scars cut through my face. I am missing part of an ear. Solas is scarred with red lyrium that clouds his eyes.
I want to ask, but not yet.
Instead, I simply follow.
The trees give way to the Arbor Wilds, miles and miles away. I know this place. This is where I met Mythal.
“You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, Dread Wolf.”
The spirit looks like her for a moment, and then she is him, as I last saw him before the Qunari plot. He must have traveled by eluvian from Skyhold immediately after we vanquished Corypheus.
He is a broken man, for a moment. He still wears the jawbone I now carry around my neck.
“I wish it could, vhenan.”
This spirit seems to want to speak with our words, so I will let it. With a thought I am crosslegged in the grass, my fingers feeling the blades. They are so green here, as green as they are in life. The Black City is beyond, over the tree line, waiting.
“Tell me you don’t love me!”
“I cannot do that, vhenan.”
I thought I was somewhat prepared, armoured. But that—
Solas stands in front of me in Crestwood, his hands twitching between looking as though he wants to simultaneously crush me to him and fend me off. He is frightened, flighty, two things Solas seldom is.
The spirit reflects that moment, showing me again the precise moment my heart broke, when Solas decided to be Fen’Harel and not tell me himself.
“You do not have to destroy this world! I will prove it to you!”
My voice, thrown by the spirit, echoes through this bower.
“I will treasure the chance to be wrong once again,” it says sadly.
“Foolish wolf,” I mutter myself.
“There is a place where you can build, grow.”
I am growing weary of whatever games this spirit is playing. I relive these words in my mind every day, every grain of sand that ticks through the hourglass counting down to the moment I will have to face…I have no words for what Solas is to me. Some days I trace the lines of magic that remain in my severed arm, feeling out for the Anchor. Those days I hear him ask if it has changed me, my…spirit, as he hesitated to say with the sun setting behind me on my Skyhold balcony.
What if it did? What if the Anchor is the only reason I love him?
“You are you, old blood older than old. Like calls to like even without a cord to bind them.”
The spirit has resumed its state of formlessness, floated closer while I sat in my pool of constant grief.
“Very well,” I tell it. “Why have you brought me here?”
“Banal nadas,” it says, hovering directly in front of my face like a challenge. It is not Solas’s voice I hear, but mine, gentle. I have never said those words, not like that.
“Banal nadas!” The spirit bellows it at me with my own voice again.
My skin tingles like I am in the waking world in a place where the Veil is thin. I have never felt such a thing whilst walking the Fade, not as such.
“I want to help him,” I tell the spirit fiercely. “Our people have suffered enough.”
“Who are your people, Ilaana?”
“That is the question, is it not?” This time it is I who bring Solas’s words to life, another sentence from a Crestwood heartbreak under the watchful gaze of Ghilan’nain. My lips quirk with a cynical smile. “Solas is my people. Cullen is my people. Cassandra and Cole are my people. My friends on this side of the Veil are my people. You, as well. Dorian, my beloved friend. Varric. The Iron Bull. Sera and Vivienne and Thom. Krem and Maryden, Dalish and Grim. Svarah Sun-Hair and Skywatcher. They are my people, spirit. All of them. Abelas is my people. Mythal is my people. Clan Lavellan is my people. Briala. Charter. Samson. Leliana and Neria and Merrill and Hawke. Alistair is my people. The Wardens I exiled are my people. The templars I condemned are my people. Ser Barris. Belle. Gaspard. Mihris. That bloody piece of self-loathing nugshit Michel is my people. Felix and Alexius. Gatt and the Viddisala. Elera and Dagna and Valta and her titan friend. Rage and Despair and Pride and Wisdom and Acceptance and Justice and Vengeance. They are all my people. All.”
I am angry now, angry enough that I feel the energies blazing off me like a pyre. If Solas is walking the Fade just now, he will certainly see me, feel me. We never have had to try hard to find one another here, and I am screaming in an echoing hall loud enough to wake Elgar’nan himself. That stupid prideful Evanuris who likely started all of this, he is my people too, for all he’d scrape me off the bottom of his gilded fucking boot.
“Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Dread Wolf? Dirth ma, harellan, vhen’an’ara—ane emma!” I yell the words into the Arbor Wilds, at the Black City, at any spirit who will listen. “You are all my people, and I am trying to save your foolish, thoughtless chunks of Fade-stuff and meat from yourselves!”
The spirit in front of me looks suddenly pleased.
“An answer a long time in coming, Inquisitor,” the spirit says, almost preening.
“Who are you?” I ask it bluntly. “I am tired of trying to help those who are determined to cut off their own feet because they don’t like the shape of their toenails.”
“Vivid, as always.”
“I asked you a question.”
“You asked a good question. I brought you here to hear, to listen, to scream. Has it helped?”
“A bit,” I admit. I feel lighter. Apparently my quiet footsteps through the Fade were possible because I’ve been bottling up every part of me for so long.
“Good,” says the spirit. “You asked my name, and I will give it. But first, you need to understand the most important thing I have said to you.”
“Which is?”
“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again.
“That one isn’t leaving my memory any time soon,” I say. “Your name, if you please.”
“You carry a heavy weight, as you have for so long, Ilaana. Your name, Ilaana. In the place of sacrifice. How much have you sacrificed?”
“Enough,” I say. My arm twinges. That is the least of it. I am no less than I was for a foot or so of missing flesh. The words I said to Ameridan. It takes everything from you.
“You look ahead with purpose, and you look ahead with grief, because the weight pressing upon your shoulders does not let you breathe.” The spirit looks like me, now. My face, without my vallaslin, with my freckles, the new scar on my nose from some Qunari Sten or another. My dimple. “You cannot see a way out.”
We are back in the forest, a different forest, and the trees are oppressive. They crowd around us, leaning over my shoulder, draping their leaves over my neck. I can almost feel their breath.
“You are telling me everything I already know.”
“You may remember the words, but you need to know, truly know. Eolasas, da’len.”
It changes to Solas’s face in Redcliffe, his eyes pulsing with red lyrium. Its voice repeats his words.
“You would think that such understanding would prevent me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.”
Anger flares again. I am surprised that this place has not been swarmed with spirits. The trees could very well be rage demons, every one.
“I couldn’t stop him,” I tell the spirit, and with those words, my anger cracks in half. In its core is only sorrow. “He left. He left again. He left again, and he called me vhenan.”
“Yes,” the spirit says. “He has done these things. Over and over, he has done these things. He is as trapped as you are. But the trap is of your own making. Time is no flat circle, da’len. You are thinking in too few dimensions.”
I sit in silence for a time, feeling at the edges of my hurt. I long for Cole’s comforting presence. He is somewhere in the Fade. I suspect he is with Solas. He told me he had to go where he was most needed. Or perhaps Cole is simply with the other spirits, sharing himself with them, preparing them. Where he is most needed. That would be a very Cole thing to do.
Everything that has happened has happened. I could not stop it.
“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again, insistently. “You make a tragic mistake, Inquisitor. Ilaana, da’len, da’lath’in. You must listen. You must see. What are all of these voices, save one?”
The one the spirit is speaking of must be my own, yelling its words. The rest are—
“Memories,” I say flatly. “Reminders of my own failures. I should have told him in Crestwood that I knew—”
“He would have fled. Likely, anyway. Banal nadas,” the spirit says, this time almost as if a joke. “Your instinct held your tongue because you knew him to be afraid. You yourself were afraid, thought you could keep him near a while longer, that it would give you time you had no way of knowing was running out.”
“Yes,” I say. “And then he was gone.”
The weight of the jawbone against my chest is usually a comfort, even in the Fade. Not now, not really.
“What is a memory?” The spirit asks me this as if it is speaking to a very dense rock instead of a person.
“A fragment of perception rooted in a moment in time that has passed,” I say.
“Time that has—” the spirit leads.
“Passed.” I stop, looking at it. It looks like me again, hopeful. It looks like I looked when he asked me to dance at Halamshiral, that horrible night, that wonderful night, that night that gutted me from the inside and built me anew all at once.
The night I learned my lover's true names.
“Before the band stops playing, vhenan, dance with me.”
His hand outstretched to me, his smile full of love. Moments before, the easy pressure of his hand against my shoulder, a comfort, knowing I needed his touch more than anything else.
“The past,” I say slowly. “Banal nadas.”
“Yes,” the spirit says, and the trees pull back from their crowding, letting through a burst of air, cool air, memory of a spring breeze. “You carry the weight of it, and you let it lead you, but you are letting it press you into the ground, da’len. You are like him. Like calls to like. His past weighs him as well, and it will crush you both, the past, if you let it.”
“You make it sound like…” I trail off.
I’m being obtuse, now. Of course I’m being obtuse.
It is easier to believe I cannot prevent whatever happens. It is easier believing, accepting, resigning myself to fatalism. Whatever will be will be. I remember what Acceptance said to me so long ago, that it could see many paths for itself without becoming any one of them. I have forgotten that wisdom. I have let myself become the one thing I cannot bear because some part of me thinks it is easier than believing I could build it better instead.
“I am frightened,” I say. “He said he walks the din’an shiral. He chose for me, and I am furious at him. He said he could not do this to me, but he will do it to himself. He says he will, and he condemns me to accept it. But what he accepts, I do not have to.”
“Yes, da’len, continue.”
“I am afraid.” Afraid does not even come close to what I feel. I am half a breath from shaking to pieces.
“I know, da’len.” The spirit looks like Keeper Deshanna now. It sits in front of me wearing June’s vallaslin.
“I have said I will save him, that I will prove to him, but I haven’t believed it. I haven’t been able to believe it.”
“Your love for him is so deep that it reached me in the farthest depths of the Fade,” the spirit says softly. “You are on the shore watching a hundred-foot wave threaten to crush you, and you believe if you run, if you fight, if you try and do something, it will wash you away no matter what. It is easier for you to believe that what is past will dictate what is future.”
“Yes,” I say. “You are correct.”
“But that is not how anything works, da’len. It may seem it sometimes, but do you know what it took for him to see you at all? How many ages he lay sleeping in sorrow, walking paths with friends but seeing nothing of himself wherever he looked?”
I shake my head.
The grove around us is quiet, peaceful now. It is the grove in the Dales, the one where we once moved together with our magic, our mana, our staves. It is the grove where he gave me his glyph-chilled water and I wiped a droplet of it away from my cheek and he told me that he had yet to see my indomitable focus dominated.
I wonder if it has been as fascinating as he expected, watching me crumble under our combined pasts.
“A thousand thousand variables, a weave of time and circumstance more delicate than the Veil itself,” the spirit says. “You are real, and it changes everything, but it can’t. Do you not hear the contradiction in his own words?”
“Yes,” I say.
“You are real, da’len. You are real, and you change everything.”
His words, and the spirit’s. They mould to something in me that I have not felt in months. I have felt this future bearing down on me like the wave in the spirit’s metaphor, ready to crush the life out of me, out of my people—our people—and the person I love enough to save. I have waited for him enough. Atisha, Ilaana.
I breathe slowly, my mind clearing. His words, to me. In hindsight they feel both inevitable and deeply cracked, waiting to be moved in another direction.
“Yes,” I say, this time because it is the only right word to say. “Thank you. Thank you, hahren.”
“Nuvu lasa su ma enaste, da’len.”
“Why have you done this for me?” I ask. It still has not told me its name.
“You are not the only one who loves him,” the spirit says simply. “I would not watch him suffer more. I would not watch the weight he carries grow. And he is not the only one who loves you, da’len. I would be remiss if I did not try.”
“You are saying—”
“I am saying banal nadas.”
Yes. Yes.
Banal nadas.
Nothing is inevitable.
“Thank you,” I say again. “Ma melava halani.”
“Sathem lasa halani,” the spirit says. “And now you must go. You have a great deal of work to do.”
“Wait,” I say as the spirit rises, once again formless, shifting every time I blink. “You promised me your name.”
I wait for a moment, wondering if it will be Hope. Faith. Even Love, something as simple as that.
The spirit looks like him once more, and it reaches out to touch my cheek the way he so often has. It tugs his favourite curl.
“Possibility,” the spirit says.
I wake.
***
Lavellan: Banal nadas. Ar lath, ma vhenan.
#solavellan#solavellan fic#veilguard spoilers#solas#solas x female lavellan#solas dragon age#solas x inquisitor#solavellan hell#dread wolf#fen'harel#dread wolf's redemption
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Very deeply annoyed by the fanon idea that Talia treated Jason like a pet or a tool when he was catatonic, because when you actually read lost days you can clearly see that Talia is literally the only person who looked at Jason while he was catatonic and still saw a person and treated him like a person while everyone else around her (Ra’s and the doctor she hired) was ready to dismiss Jason as an empty shell
#As much as I do use the dog owner and dog metaphor to describe their relationship at times because she did very much pluck him off#the streets and rehabilitate him like one might a stray puppy. Talia doesn’t actually dehumanize him in that way. She’s literally the only#one who believes and treats him like he’s still sentient. If Jason is Talia’s pet than Talia is the type of owner who is dropping 10k on#their 18 year old dog’s cancer treatment when everyone is telling her that it’s hopeless and that she should just put him down#‘Promise you’ll treat me like I’m a dog with a bite history and you’re the last white girl with a savior complex on earth’ type shit#that’s her poor little meow meow right there have some RESPECT#And stop basing your idea of Jason and Talia’s relationship off of fanfic and that 10 second clip from young justice#Jason Todd#Dc#Also this goes back to my other post about people being unwilling to believe that Talia is capable of genuine kindness for some reason
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I'm sure this post will be funny as I finally maybe learn the whole story of whatever's going on, since I'm still quite early into Metaphor, but. Just.
I cannot stop thinking about how Metaphor's protagonist+party place their hopes and dreams onto the Prince, the way he's sat so high on a pedestal. Just,,,
You're the Prince. You're young, but you're also your father's son, so he's passed on his ideals for the world to you, so hopefully the world will be better under your rule one day. But you're the only prince, and so an attempt on your life is made. It fails in the short term, but now you're cursed, and it'll kill you slowly. You're cursed, and it's impossible to break, and nowhere in the Capital is safe anymore, so a few people your father trusts whisk you away from the Palace.
You make perhaps the first friend around your age, a boy on the lowest rungs of society, survivor of his village burned by your people. He still listens to you, talks with you on equal ground. You share your favorite book, one that ponders utopia so unlike your world, and you and he share the same starry vision for a world that's equal for all. He's the last person you speak to before the curse spirals you into sleep.
And sleep and sleep and sleep. For years, the curse grows stronger and you and your body fight, but start standing weak against it. You're proclaimed dead by your kingdom, and your curse-caster kills your father, The King. Your first friend grew up into a young man, and is sent away from you(r body) to help the last resort of saving you: killing the man responsible.
Because you have to become King, after all. It was what you were born for, if the tradition of the Kingdom has one thing right. You're the Prince, and you're kind, and clever, and good at magic, and actually alive. Along his way your friend makes friends, comrades who hang their hopes all on you (the ones they don't already hang on your friend)
Because, of course, you'll make it out of this alive and fine. You will. You're your father's son, and rightful heir to the throne, and actually alive. Right?
Do any of these people say your name when they speak of you? How do they know you'll be just right as rain for Kinghood after nearly a decade comatose? Your father wanted a world free of strife, of equality for all under its banner, does this not include you for the burden of upholding his ideals?
You were just a little boy who got cursed. No matter how well-spoken, how talented, how befitting the title you were molded for. How inspiring and horrific then, to be the holder of such high hopes.
Time marches on, and the age of a new king draws nearer, is spoken by a storyteller over your sleeping body.
#biting my hands I GOTTA get through more of this game's fucking PLOT#WHAT is the Prince and the Protag's DEALS BOTH OF THEM. And GALLICA TOO.#BITE CHOMP GRR SCREAM!!#K.R. shush#K.R. can't play Metaphor R#LITERALLY CANNOT! BEDTIME OON FOR K.R. AGH#Metaphor Refantazio spoilers#<- just in case. hi tag viewers if you see this note I have Not finished the game. I just got the Thief Archetype.#do Not tell me how right or wrong I am if you know.
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Crackship of the day: countess Rosalia x Lilian 'Lily' York
#it can be enemies to lovers#when they realize claude is more dangerous to their charges/daughter figures#rosalia wants the throne for jen#and will do anything to get it#which incurs lily's protective insticts over athy#and anger#rosalia finds lily abandoning her status to play nanny to a forgotten princess a waste#they will snip and bite (metaphorically and hopefully literally later)#but they do it as elegantly as noblewomen brought up to#they are the devil x angel pair#lily york#lilian york#wmmap lily#wmmap countess rosalia#wmmap rosalia#wmmap#who made me a princess#sbapod#suddenly became a princess one day#crackship#rarepair
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yk if i didn't grow up in a constant state of emotional repression, id probably be a disaster right now
#vent post look away look awayyy#ohhhhh theyre really trying it this time...#yall if you have piece of shit family members that you've cut off#dont EVER give them an inch. dont give them the time of day#doesnt matter their relation to you doesnt matter their feelings. fuck em#you cut them off for a reason and trust me they will only Prove your reasoning#FUCK EM!!!#absolutely unprompted#i believe... that perhaps.... there may be a restraining order in my future!!#omg i hope so that would be sooooo satisfying <3<3<3#come anywhere near me and i will metaphorically bite yer dick off <3<3<3#shits getting Messy again!!!! weeee!!!!#at least i have a fun new update for my dearest buddy sockeyesidequest <3#anyway im literally looking at this 'family' drama#and i feel like a rabid dog on a chain. just let me go. please. please. its fine i dont bite (lying) im totally peaceful#i totally dont have a whole life of bottled up unrealized rage to unleash. double prommy <3#'let me know if i can help ill give him a piece of my mind' i say as if i dont actively fantasize about getting his blood on my knuckles
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i still haven't gotten real baghera and rivers interactions have i........... like the barest of interactions......... a drought........... i was so fucking curious...... i am still so curious............ twenty minutes of conversation and i would be fed forever............ i'd never ask for anything again.... baghera wasn't even there when bolas was doing the whole hostage situation she was off doing her own thing.......... i'm so curious........... i want to know..... what would the dynamic be........ how would they interact............ i'll never know.............. crying...........
#qsmp#if they've interacted somewhere and i just missed it somehow i will be punching the table#and i mean like a conversation bc i have a vague memory of baghera introducing herself to rivers maybe????#but like a CONVO not just hi bye YOU KNOW#you know what i mean. you know.#i'm pretty sure there are tags on my blog from pre-rivers saying:#'god i hope rivers can join (...) i'm so curious what her and baghera's dynamic would end up being'#and i sincerely hope the answer isn't 'nonexistent lol' please 😭 don't do this to me#literally one twenty minute conversation so i could chart a trajectory i'll never ask for anything again#this is a personal curiosity i'm just very interested in people and how they interact and the myriad of dynamics that form it's fascinating#rivers and baghera's personalities are really interesting to me in their own ways#what can i say i like throwing ingredients into the test tube and SHAKING THEM TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS#shut up vic#block game brainrot#there are no metaphors it's just 4 am and i'm grieving the gaping holes in possible interactions#also i just watched a slimecicle qsmp vod those always leave me somewhat unhinged. you get it. you understand.#long tags#((also rivers who speaks french and baghera who's picking up spanish SCREAMING can i hear ONE person on this smp who isn't a native speaker#say something in french that isn't PETITE BITE or VOULEZ VOUS COUCHEZ AVEC MOI))#((i don't even have a personal stake in that battle tbh i'm not a native french speaker but sometimes i try to think of someone outside-#the 'french' w their translations box set to french and man. i come up empty. and it makes me bummed))#((i get why i think but i'm still a bit bummed. would be nice to see the french speakers hearing a nonnative speaker in their language))#((i think it would be funny if rivers spoke french to one of em. etoiles esp would be funny))#(((if anyone's curious i'm avoiding specifics abt rivers bc i'm terrified of being wrong bc My Spanish Is SHIT)))#(((i certainly have thoughts but rather than Be Permanently Wrong On The Internet i will hold them in my chest and one day Die)))#damn these really are long tags hahahahahaha 4 am..............................#anyway tl;dr i will never not be curious how rivers would interact w the smp as a whole i get very excited seeing her log in that's the pos#((and if anyone's worried no i don't message in twitch chats and i deactivated my twitter a year and a half ago lol))#REMINDER THAT IT'S FOUR AM SORRY IF THE TAGS ARE UNHINGED AND FULL OF BAD TAKES I CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE
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*comes out of the milgram mv covered in blood*
W-Well, I didn’t expect that to happen
#spoilers for cat but#I DIDNT EXPECT THE CAT METAPHOR TO RESULT IN HIM LITERALLY BITING THE BIRD#TURNED INTO A FUCKIN WERECAT MY GOD#THE SONG WAS BANGER THO GREAT SHIT WILL PUT THAT ON REPEAT KICKED MY LEGS AS I GIGGLED EXCITEDLY#well my casino predictions were wrong but hey at least I still have anime jazz *shrugs*#side note: his wife looks really cute!?!? especially in her uniform like AAAAAAAAAA#AS PER USUAL I DONT UNDERSTAND SHIT#I wanna date these prisoner’s dead spouses#milgram#milgram kazui#milgram cat#kazui mukuhara#tw caps
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🤡
#so i just thought of something and needed to clown for a second#you know that episode “just one bite”? where squid secretly loves krabby patties?#so i might be reaching but#what if that episode wasn't actually about squidward's feelings towards krabby patties#but rather his feelings towards.... spongebob?#HEAR ME OUT#throughout the entire episode#he's so dramatic about not letting anyone#(especially spongebob)#find out that he actually likes krabby patties#but he's like... IN LOVE WITH THEM#madly in love#and the more he denies it#the harder it becomes for him to get what he wants#until he literally EXPLODES from his love for the stuff lmao#like i said in my masterpost: squidward will admit his true feelings when it really comes down to it#idk#just wondering if it isn't a metaphor for his love for a certain sponge 😉#squidbob#squidward tentacles#squidward#spongebob#spongebob squarepants#sbsp#tragic clowning
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worst thing about being disabled is that now I am fully and completely aware of exactly how much I am worth to everyone I know. And it is not a lot!!
#like. it gets to me. A lot of the time it’s ohhh your life is priceless and. Well. Okay I did just see you put a price on it though.#like. It’s not always blatant but the laziness comments get to me. The stupid comments get to me. The money comments also get to me.#Either all life is precious or I am a drain on society. you cannot have both.#Why is my life worth less than twenty dollars. Better yet why are YOU gambling with MY life. wear your FUCKING masks.#like I’m usually fine bc I simply do not have the capacity for any more shit. I am existing in less dimensions than most ppl and Not Aware#And then when I am better I experience two entire years of Concentrated Cosmic Horror before I fold back down into being two dimensional#Cosmic horror? Eldritch horror? I DONT ACTUALLY KNOW. what I do know is that I straight up Do Not believe in the soul anymore bc of this!#like I’m horrified!! It is literally horrifying. If I still had all of me I could write some deeply fucked up metaphor but rn what I’ve got#Is like. okay so I’m supposed to be like. A galaxy on the inside folded into a person shape. Right#there’s stuff happening in there. three to five trains of thought at once etc. etc. and that is not what I have anymore. what I have now is#like. One planet and a white dwarf. not even a neutron star. And everything else went out so gradually that I didn’t really notice but#I woke up one morning and it’s not there and then I got into the habit of not looking up bc that’s a lot of work and I have to keep paintin#galaxies on the ash of this stupid little planet. And then I experience random bandaid treatment and Have The Knowledge again and.#I get to experience Plato’s allegory of the cave in REAL TIME and involuntarily!!#It really does suck that the only time I am able to comprehend the magnitude of my loss is when I’m not experiencing it!! bad times!!#I’m tired of being agreeable. Wear masks. Petition for air purifiers in public spaces. Or I start biting for real#if you notice I’m dealing with long covid a. BADLY. you’re right!! Gold fucking star! I challenge ANYONE to deal with The Bullshit actually#I’m not going to let myself be martyred for the fucking. Economy. Bull FUCKING shit.
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Hiram covering the costs for Fred's funeral must have been a huge deal for you.
okay yes. but why do i detect a tone of judgment!!
#THAT WAS SO FREAKISH OF HIRAM. I'M RIGHT#the sicko implications of paying for the funeral after his role in deteriorating their relationship...it's like he's GLOATING#'or he's remorseful' is what varchie would want to weigh. and it's so so sick of him ahhhhhhhhh SCREAMING BITING#going back to s2 the only times archie really sets firm boundaries with hiram are around his dad#obviously the big desk-knife office confrontation but also midseason when hiram gave archie that car in front of fred#controlling man thing to do. veronica literally had the means and was about to pay. he didn't need to be involved at all and knew it#he did it to flex that he's still powerful. it shows off his access to information and funding. so much for the fbi asset seizures!#and ofc going back to the whole convo about how rvd characters often can't meaningfully sever ties with their abusers#it says they're not done he's not going anywhere (message to archie and veronica both)#they blocked his number so he started mailing amazon packages to their home address. metaphorically. is a reading that's possible#hiram lodge#archie andrews#veronica lodge#hirarchie#hiramaissance#i won't ever forget the experience of watching this episode#sobbing through to the end and then getting hit with a hirarchie breadcrumb. rvd is so indecent (complimentary)
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thinking about how maelgwyn is with physical touch&affection,,,,,,
complete stranger/acquaintance? do not touch. do not hug. he will bite you. he will scratch and be mean and bite.
complete stranger thats really into the desert beast? you can Absolutely Touch him baby the desert beast doesnt mind, we could even kick it up a notch if you think you could take it.
friends tho? no touch. hug? = bite :/
close friend?? 2 touch. per month. no hugging. only dudebroguymyman type pats on the shoulder and the like.
bestest friend??? congration!! you now have a hugging license!! u can now redeem 1(one) hug per week. he will no longer bite if u hug him. if u hug him more than once a week he will maybe growl a little and grumble but no bitey anymore.
literal closest person(s) to him in his life? he let you in and you stayed and loved him and he loved you back and gave you his heart and you cherished it like the most precious gift you could be given?? please, for the love of the gods, dont stop touching him, please hug him and pet him and kis him and tell him u love him PLEASE dont stop touching him. please. please never let him go. he is hugging YOU now and he will not let go.
#oc: maelgwyn (he/any)#ocposting#gw2#guild wars 2#i love him so much#metaphorical use of the word bite. he would not literally bite you for hugging him. but.#he would atleast consider it.#hed think about biting. maybe if u were SUPER annoying he would actually straight up bite u.
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leviathan!charlie also takes care of the weird plothole about her going from “hunting & hunters are scary and dangerous wtf get away from me” to “oh wow murdering people is soooo fun, guys!!! i just wish it was more magical!!!” because in this scenario it is not her going into hunting and somehow being in complete denial of the bloody reality of it, but her actually regressing to more violent tendencies in order to keep in contact with the Winchesters, who are basically the only friends she has.
leviathan!charlie who teamed up with them to take down dick specifically so that she would not have to act like she did in purgatory and could find a new life, but inevitably being drawn into the black hole of hunting/winchester-related violence. leviathan!charlie who sets out like vampires can to feed on animals…. and the occasional asshole, but that one shaky spot on her moral ground gives her room to backslide into seeing the monsters she hunts as just more assholes to eat (regardless of the fact that they are her!!! she’s a monster too! she just got lucky siding with sam and dean first!) leviathan!charlie who tries to hold onto the humanity she painstakingly taught herself, but the longer she’s around the winchesters, the harder it is to be anything but a monster.
#leviathan!charlie is both a comedic and a tragic concept btw. the same as regular charlie.#i never bought that her reading the spn novels was enough to convince her that Hunting Good and Cool. especially when she kept getting hurt.#but her clinging to hunting to cling to sam & dean (her literal only friends and connections that we know of)?#yeah. that i can see.#and with leviathan!charlie it becomes even worse for her. because how much of her is useful as a hunter. and how much will become too much#for sam & dean not to hunt her.#leviathan!charlie 🤝 castiel: if we fuck up too badly our best friend will kill us. and we might just let him.#oughuhhhh dark!charlie & good!charlie who are. basically the same as in canon. except that dark!charlie uses leviathan methods of killing#openly. and good!charlie will not eat anything. she’s fucking starving herself.#and what im saying is that Dean cuts dark!charlie’s head off to keep her from going inside the house instead of breaking her arm.#it doesnt kill her but its just. its an awful thing. sam inside watching as good!charlie bites down on the good!wizard guy and kills him#and then the skin on her neck rips open and she screams in pain and fear as she comes apart#sam gingerly carrying both her body and her head out to dark!charlie in the same state#dean staring at what he’s done….#and charlie both metaphorically and literally putting herself back together…#leviathan!charlie#charlie bradbury#spn
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I fucking love werewolves they’re sooo versatile. they can be serious or silly or even sexy. they can be a metaphor for literally anything. creature of all time methinks <3
#regarding metaphors I’m particularly fond of them being used as one for disability but as previously iterated literally Anything goes#they’re about queerness. anger. generational trauma. Otherness. transformation/change. (loss of) control. repression. fearing yourself.#the lines between humanity & monstrosity (and blurring thereof). just really fucking wanting to bite someone. etc etc etc#elli rambles#lycanthropy
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Current insanity level: coreographing mental amvs to All-American-Bitch
#im in the pits besties#gritting my teeth and chanting im grateful all the time#as i hear the worlds dumbest men talk about apis all wrong#im so normal im sooo normal and not even bursting with misplaced rage bc of period hormones#come closer#i dont bite#i prommy <33#literally holding up my tiefling oc like a squeaky toy and banging him againt the metaphorical wall#for catharsis#txt.wav
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How do you need to be touched?
Cautiously
your teeth are bared, as they have been, your jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. you always have to defend yourself. you lash out in fear. you need someone who does not shrink back… a hand falling slowly to your shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that you do not have to lunge. there is no danger here, now.
I answered all but one question different from my other blog... got same result?? but both are VERY ic as much as the answers were so.... ??? but it works???
Stolen from my other blog \o/ (originally from @sanguine-salvation for other blog but still) Tagging: @priceforeverything @ubcs @outbreaksurvived @manufactoredxbyxdesign
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