#but like i feel like its a little justified

[kurogane2512]

Cabernet Birthday 2025

18+ CONTENT

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Cabernet x fem!reader (Chief)

Type: Fluff and smut (Cabernet being thirsty for you, some food play, little bit of soul sucking)

A/n: Cabernet is wearing the outfit from the Lawson collab (see pic below)

You walked through the lobby of the lavish Franc mansion, feeling amazed by its decorations and splendour. Your destination was none other than the room of the esteemed princess of the Francs, who also happened to be your Sinner. However, today you weren't here to arrest her.

"You look good, Chief~" Cabernet's voice beamed in your ears the moment she stepped out of her room.

"A-Ah, thank you. You look very beautiful too...." you said with a small blush.

Cabernet smiled then walked closer to wrap her arms around your neck, "You look even more delicious than usual.... I wonder if you would let me have a taste today on the occasion of my birthday?~"

She teased while licking her lips, the blush on your face growing darker.

"A-Ahem, we can talk about that later. We should get going for the banquet, everyone must be waiting for you...."

She chuckled then released you and held out something in her hand.

"Here, wear this brooch." she came forward to pin it on your pocket, her warm breath brushing past your cheek and her intoxicating perfume filling your nose.

"Now you look even more suitable for tonight's banquet and..." she came closer to your ear and whispered, "....to be my partner~"

"I-It looks expensive...." you averted your gaze from her out of embarrassment, feeling shy at her remark.

"Hehe~ It is made of the purest jade one can find in DisCity."

She dragged her hand across the lapel of your coat and along your shoulder before standing beside you and hooking her arm with yours.

"Well, shall we go now, my partner?~"

You hesitated to immediately reply then spoke, "Are you sure about this? Having me as your partner....? I think it'll be better if I act as your bodyguard or something...."

Cabernet was slightly surprised by your doubt and let out an amused hum.

"Why do you doubt yourself, Chief? I picked you personally, nobody can dare to doubt my choice~"

"It's not that.... Uh, I'm not really used to being in the limelight...."

Cabernet chuckled and suddenly drew close to you, bending down near your neck.

"Wouldn't it be a good practice then? You are steadily gaining more fame in Eastside, having the favour of the Francs will do you wonders~"

"....Wouldn't people find it strange that you are with the Chief of MBCC? You have no reason to ally with me."

"I don't need superficial reasons to justify my partner. As I said, they won't dare to question my choice. Not to mention, I couldn't care less about the opinions of mere passersby~"

Cabernet seemed set on having you as her partner for tonight, and all your reasons to protest were promptly countered by her. You had no choice but to agree and decided to do your best to not disappoint her. You walked to the banquet hall with your arm locked with hers and were instantly greeted with a flood of camera flashes along with cheers. Cabernet posed naturally; of course, she was used to this, while you appeared stiff and out of place but did your best to compliment her.

You walked down the stairs with her and glanced around at the onlookers. To no surprise, all eyes were on Cabernet. She drew a crowd unlike any other, instantly mesmerizing everyone with just her presence. You still remembered the very first time you met her and the way she was swarmed by her 'fans' all around.

"Welcome, Ms Cabernet! A very happy birthday to you!"

"You look dazzling, Ms Cabernet!"

"This party is amazing, Ms Cabernet!"

Just like that time, a crowd was immediately gathered around her, chanting her praises. You maintained a simple smile throughout and were rather glad nobody paid attention to you. Cabernet calmly replied to everyone's greetings and engaged in formal conversation, it still amazed how naturally she could do such things. You tried to release your arm from her grip in order to give her privacy but she didn't seem keen on letting you go.

"Oh, this bracelet? It's a gift from my partner here tonight~" Cabernet suddenly leaned near your shoulder, and all eyes were on you but you sensed a rather sinister vibe in their gazes.

"And who might your partner be? I don't think I have seen her around before." a man with a judgemental stare spoke while looking at you from head to toe.

"She looks familiar.... where have I seen her before?" another man spoke while pondering, but couldn't remember your identity.

"I'm Y/n, Chief of the Minos Bureau of Crisis Control. A pleasure to meet everyone."

"Minos Bureau.... Ah! That agency that handles Sinners?" the man who was pondering finally pieced it together. Though, saying that you only handled Sinners was quite disrespectful to all the other work you had put in to solve Mania cases.

You nodded at his question and everyone became silent for a while. You could tell what they were thinking. Why was Cabernet with someone like you? How did you get to know the Francs so well? Why would Cabernet choose you as her partner? But none of them spoke anything and went back to conversing with Cabernet, practically ignoring your existence.

As time passed, you had eventually been released from Cabernet's grip and simply followed her closely behind. The crowd around her never reduced, everyone was eager to have a moment with her. You couldn't imagine how exhausting it was, you had become tired enough of the minimal fame you got some time ago and Cabernet was on another level.

Some moments later, you saw her clear her throat and realized she was possibly thirsty from talking so much. You looked around and spotted a waiter carrying drinks then went up to him and grabbed a glass for Cabernet. You tried to make your way through the endless crowd but it was proving difficult.

"Cabern—" you tried to call out to her.

"Oh, are you thirsty, Ms Cabernet? Waiter! Get some drinks here!" a man who was close to Cabernet shouted and everyone made way for a waiter to come up to her and she politely picked up a drink then thanked the man. You slowly retracted yourself from the crowd watching the scene unfold, unknown feelings surging through you. It wasn't really a big deal, you couldn't understand why you had this strange feeling bubbling inside.

Soon after, dinner was announced. Cabernet was obviously the first to be seated, an entire table reserved for her. She sat alone on the edge as dishes were served in front of her and everyone gathered around to watch her display her speciality. The crowd waited in anticipation for her to take the first bite but she suddenly stood up and walked towards them. A way was automatically parted for her until she stopped at what— or who— she was looking for.

"There you are. Come, eat with me~"

Cabernet grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the table, snatching you from the dense crowd. Everyone stared in shock and whispered envy amongst themselves while Cabernet was unfazed. You took a seat beside her and felt a little awkward feeling the uneasy gazes on you. She placed her hand atop yours as if to reassure you, and it indeed worked as you relaxed a little.

The first dish was served on your plates and you waited for her to take a bite out of courtesy. Cabernet elegantly cut the meat with a fork and knife then picked up a small piece. Anticipation grew as the piece drew closer to her lips and was then swallowed, followed by a pleasant smile from her.

"Delicious, the meat is tender and perfectly seasoned."

Her praise assured everyone, especially the chefs who had sweat dripping down their foreheads. You also started eating after her and enjoyed the meal, it was far more exquisite than anything you'd ever had at the MBCC. While eating, Cabernet suddenly brought her fork near your mouth and offered you a bite. You blushed at her but accepted the gesture, then offered her a bite from your own as well.

"My, I feel it's more delicious when you feed it to me~" she teased.

You smiled back at her and continued eating, relishing the feast. All of a sudden, she placed her hand on your thigh and slowly dragged it up and down before drawing circles with her finger. You tensed up from her action, aware of what this gesture meant. She then leaned near your ear to whisper something, her breath immediately sending shivers down your body.

"Mmm, I wonder when I can have the real treat I have been waiting for~"

She sneakily licked your lobe then pulled away, acting as if nothing happened while you were feeling flustered. You barely ate anything for the rest of the time, still feeling shy of Cabernet's previous action. Once the feast ended, everyone was back to standing around her to converse. You couldn't believe they still had more things to talk about with her, and even the energy to continue such pleasantries. Despite standing beside her, you were slowly pushed out of the way and were once again back to just observing her from afar. Your suggestion to act as her bodyguard would have been fruitful, you thought.

Slow and pleasant opera music played through the hall and you noticed some people started dancing casually, simply holding onto their partners and swaying to the rhythm. You concluded most were drunk by now and indulging themselves, it was quite a good day to hold a banquet as the next day was a weekend and everyone could enjoy to the fullest. More people eventually joined in the dancing, even those who came alone found partners and filled the hall.

You naturally looked at Cabernet and thought to ask her as well, but you knew plenty of people must have already offered her. Still, you decided to try your luck and walked up to her. Just when you could invite her, another man blocked your path and asked her instead. You recognized it was the same man who brought her the drink, you realized he had been glued to her the whole time and kept flattering her. His intentions weren't hard to guess, Cabernet had dealt with enough people like him.

He placed his hand in front of her, thinking she would easily accept. But to his dismay, she didn't even bother saying her refusal and stepped out of his way to hold you instead. You were surprised she saw you standing behind him, perhaps she had seen you come close long ago and was in fact waiting for this. You escorted her to the centre of the hall and took a dancing position, casually draping one hand around her waist while she wrapped around your neck.

"Uh, just to inform you, I don't know how to dance so forgive me if I mess up...." you whispered, earning a chuckle from her.

"Just follow my lead, Chief~"

You started slow and steady, following Cabernet's rhythm and getting used to the movements. As expected, everyone was focused on you both. You could again sense some envious gazes, but you didn't want to be sidetracked anymore. She was in your arms and she chose you herself, you wanted to show you were worthy of her. You were thankful you learned some basic steps from Hamel, and Cabernet was making it easy enough for you to follow along.

"Finally, we are up close.... Ah, how I missed your touch, Chief~" Cabernet sighed and leaned closer to you, her breasts pressing against yours and her silky voice flowing past your ear.

"C-Cabernet, we shouldn't...."

You felt her lean even closer as she almost embraced you, breathing in your scent.

"You followed me step by step like a puppy.... it was adorable but I wished to have you beside me~"

"I-It couldn't be helped.... everyone was eager to talk to you...."

"Always so humble.... Oh, how are you going to survive in the world of the rich and powerful, my sweet Chief?~"

"I'll figure it out as n-needed.... You tell me, did you enjoy?"

"Mmm, this is the best part so far— aside from the food~"

She leaned even closer, "But, I wish to have my sweetest delicacy now~"

Her voice came in a hum, her body pressed closely to you. You didn't dare look around, lest be caught up in wolf-like gazes of envy. As the dance floor filled up, Cabernet found a chance to slip away with you and dragged you to a secluded corner away from the hall. You barely had time to process her actions when she pinned you to a wall and hungrily pressed her lips to yours, instantly devouring you. Her lips moved with fervour, not giving you a chance to breathe.

"Ah... C-Cabernet— Mhm.... we shouldn't....mm.... shouldn't leave the party u-unannounced....mhm~"

You tried to speak between her kisses, but every time she would press harder than before. Her tongue soon found its way past your lips and slipped in to roll with yours, dancing sensually and tasting every part of you. It was hard to breathe now. She had a tight grip around you and pressed you into the wall further, even holding out your arms to the sides. Her fingers traced up your skin and joined with yours, clenching tightly.

"Mmm.... Chief.... more..... give me more....!~"

She moaned into the kiss and pressed herself closer, as close as possible and giving you no space to escape. You were breathless from the passionate kiss by now, unsure of how much longer you could hold on.

"Aaahn~ Chief.... my sweet Chief~" Cabernet finally released the kiss with a moan, gazing at you with hooded eyes as you both breathed in and out. Her hand cupped your face as her thumb traced your lower lip, her tongue swiping past her own lips at the taste of you. You knew she was insatiable now, desperately holding back from taking you right then and there.

"T-The party.... everyone must be looking for you...."

"I don't care about them. I only want you, my Chief~"

She then grabbed your wrist and started dragging you somewhere. You were too aroused to refuse her now, the guests be damned. She brought you to her room; of course, there was no better place than this right now. What you didn't expect were the preparations inside the room. A trolley stood beside the bed, filled with a strange assortment of foods. There were no full dishes and only toppings— mostly sweet ones at that— and some exotic fruits. Cabernet was quick to pull you in and remove your coat before shoving you on the bed and climbing up to straddle you.

"Finally.... I can have you, my Chief~"

She leaned down, her luscious hair cascading over your face. Her lips were on yours before you knew it, once again devouring you. She was even needier now, biting your lip and kissing deeply as she put all of her weight on you. You slowly dragged your hands over her body, caressing and feeling up her curves over her dress. She swiftly unbuttoned your shirt as her lips travelled down to kiss your jaw and neck. She lapped up your neck like a kitten, tasting every bit she could find.

"Say, Chief.... You always try to satisfy me with other delicacies, but you know well what I truly want. Since it's a special occasion today, how about.... letting me have a little taste? Just enough to satiate this fussy tongue of mine~"

Your eyes widened in shock. You knew what she meant. She didn't mean to simply touch you this way, she was talking about having a part of your soul— her deepest desire in the world. She had promised to wait until your soul had cultivated to the best taste, but you knew she was always desperate for it. The rationale part of you would swiftly deny her, but currently you were being controlled by another part of you.

"....Fine, only a little bit."

Cabernet's eyes sparkled, not expecting you to agree but she was absolutely pleased.

"I promise, I just want a tiny part...." she whispered as she leaned down.

"Since you are being so kind, I'll let you choose from where I should take it. Your lips.... your pulse point.... or perhaps the place closest to your heart? I'll be satisfied with any~"

You didn't know what to say. The only difference for you was the sensation of being touched and drained of life.

"I.... Whichever is the most effective for you?"

"Hmm...." she hummed and traced her finger down your lips, "Your lips are a good direct source, and tasty..." Her other hand traced up your wrist, "I took a bite from here when we met.... Mm, the taste still lingers on my tongue~" Her finger now traced down to your chest, "The closest to your heart.... life is most potent around here and easy to suck~"

"....T-Then, take it from my chest...."

Cabernet smirked and made no arguments. She unbuttoned your shirt more and exposed your chest completely, awaiting to mark it. She leaned down and felt your heart beating through then licked up a spot before biting down. You gasped softly from the feeling of her teeth, followed by her sucking on your skin by wrapping her lips around the spot. You suddenly felt drained of energy, of life, even when she only took a small amount as promised.

She pulled away before you knew it, holding a crystal-clear grape in her mouth. The sight was familiar, but the feeling strangely different from last time. She bit the grape gently and rich juice flowed down the corner of her mouth, trickling past her beauty mark and falling upon your lower lip. Normally, you'd have the urge to lick it, but you were currently feeling dizzy due to having your life sucked even if just a little.

You knew this was a dangerous thing, yet the tantalizing sight of Cabernet above you couldn't make you deny it. Cabernet swallowed the grape in her mouth, sighing at the delicious sweet taste. You gazed at her motionless, watching her throat bob as it went down followed by noticing the way her tongue licked up the juice from her mouth. She smirked before bending down near you again, and you simply laid motionless.

You felt her tongue lick up the drop of juice on your lower lip, savouring the sweet taste of you even more. Your delicious taste aroused her, filling her with more lust and hunger for you. She looked down at you with a flushed face, her tongue lolling out and you knew what was in store for you. Thankfully, you had gotten stronger since your previous encounter and were able to recover quickly from her soul sucking.

"Aaah, Chief.... haah.... You are so cruel for making me wait, you are even more delicious than before. Oh, how I wish to devour you right away.... but I want to savour you as long as possible. I know your soul can become more delicious.... I will wait.... till then, please satisfy me in other ways as you always have~"

The night continued. You both were completely naked now and Cabernet still straddled you. You soon found out the use of the sweets tray beside her.... how could you not understand it sooner. Cabernet held up a full bunch of big and juicy grapes over your lips, she pushed them down and you bit off one grape then held it in your mouth halfway. She smirked and leaned down to bite the other half, her lips merely brushing yours as she took the piece. The lingering taste of her lips was somehow evident as you ate your end of the grape.

She then picked up the bottle of honey. You subconsciously licked your lips in anticipation at the sight. Cabernet only smirked more and started pouring the honey over your body, oozing some on your lips then down your neck. You licked some of the honey on your lips and saved the rest for her, but she started licking from your neck first. Her tongue hungrily dragged up and down, not wasting a single drop of the honey with your taste. It was addicting to her; she could feel herself getting more intoxicated by you.

She licked clean all the honey from your neck and was impatiently licking up your lips now before parting them to kiss you, your honeyed tongue rolled with hers and exchanged moans, hot breaths, and each other's tastes. Cabernet loved savouring you this way, just the feeling of your sweet taste through your lips could satisfy her. But tonight, she wanted to be greedy, for she knew you wouldn't let her go this far otherwise. It was the best birthday gift for her.

She pulled away to gaze at your messy state, a trail of your saliva sticking to her lips before she licked it away. You laid absolutely bare for her, giving yourself to her to do anything. She planted kisses all over your face, giggling to herself watching you be smothered by her lipstick. She continued by picking up the chocolate spread next and dipped in her finger to dollop a mouthful.

She extended her finger near your lips and you tried to lick it, but she playfully kept pulling away just as you'd get up. She loved watching you struggle so adorably, but she was kind enough to relieve you. She leaned down as she finally let you lick the spread, and at the same time licked it herself. Your tongues touched each other's as you fought to lick up most of the spread before sloppily kissing.

"Hehe.... Oh, Chief.... you are always so fun to play with. But, I can see you are getting impatient for the main course~"

She didn't even have to look to tell you were practically dripping from your core.

"Aren't you the same?~" you quipped with a smirk, making her chuckle in return.

"How could I not be when you are in such a state? You have given me the best birthday gift I could ask for~"

She shifted back on your body while kissing down, dragging her tongue and lips from your chest to your abdomen and was now between your legs, gazing at your throbbing core. The sight was insatiable, how badly she wanted to just eat you out right away. She picked up the whipped cream this time and sprayed some over your clit, the cold sensation made you gasp and buck your hips and she chuckled at your amusing reaction.

"Time to feast~" she moaned and immediately placed her mouth on your clit, licking it with the whipped cream. You thought she'd be fast but she was licking you unbearably slow, so much so that you could barely even feel her touch your skin and only lick up the cream. Of course, she was doing this intentionally. You felt her tongue drag up from your vulva, licking up the cream along the way then sucking your clit. Your body arched up as she finally touched you more, intensely sucking on your bundle of nerves.

"Aaah.... C-Cabernet...."

She lapped up your folds faster now, dragging the remaining cream with your essence and inserting her tongue inside you. Your head shot back from the surprising sensation, eyes dropping down to watch her diligently eat you out as if you were her last meal.

"Mmm.... so delicious, Chief.... Oh, I'll never get tired of your taste~"

Cabernet moaned, her hot breath making you shiver. She raised up your thighs and dove deeper, probing her tongue at your most sensitive spots.

"C-Cabernet.... I'm close.... ngh— f-fuck!~"

She attached her mouth to you completely, thumbing at your clit one last time to make you release. The orgasm was electrifying, she drank up every single drop of you, licking it from everywhere and relishing the taste. Drool dripped down her chin as she kept lapping you up, the cream messily spreading over her lips but she was focused on having everything you had to offer. Once finished, she sat up to gaze at your panting state and licked her own lips clean, eating any residual she could find. The feeling was outright euphoric to her, she felt up her neck as it went down her throat and moaned in ecstasy.

“Aaah.... this is it. My favourite..... my favourite dish from Chief~”

You breathed in and out as you came down from your orgasm then sat up to hold her, straddled your lap by wrapping her arms around your neck and coming forward to embrace you. Her fingers gently laced through your hair in soothing motions as you buried your face in the crook of her neck, just breathing in her scent and feeling her up close. Cabernet giggled when she suddenly felt you lick her neck, the tickling sensation making her chuckle.

“Thirsty, aren’t you, Chief?~”

“So much.... thirsty for you....” you whispered against her skin.

Cabernet bit her lower lip then extended her hand towards the trolley to grab a glass filled with wine.

“Let’s quench your thirst then~”

You watched as she tilted the glass above her chest, letting the wine slowly trickle down her body. You impatiently licked up as it dripped, dragging your tongue across the valley of her breasts down to her abs and naval. You didn’t let a single trickle go to waste and intently licked up as it kept pouring, eventually finishing the entire glass this way. Cabernet gazed at you with lust, staring at your wine-stained lips and couldn’t help diving forward to kiss you passionately. Messily rolling her tongue with yours, she exchanged the wine from you and moaned into your mouth. You suddenly pushed her back to lay her on the bed, her legs still locked around your waist. She arched her body with a smirk as you kissed down her belly then were right in front of her clit.

“You are wetter than me, Cabernet. Shouldn’t you care for your own relief first?~”

“Hehe.... I know you won’t leave me unsatisfied, I can wait as long as it takes~”

You smiled to yourself then pulled her legs up to rest them on your shoulders before leaning in to attach your mouth to her folds. She gasped when she felt your tongue slide up and down her vulva, subconsciously biting her lip to conceal her voice. But you were intent on making her scream, you wanted to see her come undone too. You parted her folds and dived your tongue inside to probe at her warm, spongy walls while thumbing her clit. A startled moan came from her, and her body arched up further. She was merely hanging from your grip as you raised her lower body completely, pushing your tongue even deeper inside her.

“Aaah.... Chief.... yes... r-right there- ngh! Aaahn.... more.... give me more....!~”

She clenched the bed sheets when you sucked on her walls, her body turning to the side as pleasure increased. You watched as she writhed, moving around uncontrollably. As if to satisfy her wishes, you turned her from your side as well and completely flipped her over. Her stomach arched off the bed, face flushed in the sheets and her teeth biting down on the fabric as you ate her out deeper and faster.

“Nghhh.... C-Chief.... yes.... aaaah..... oh dear! I’m cumming.... yes Chief.... more!~”

Bringing the princess of the Francs to this state was no less than an accomplishment, but for you it was simply a way to satisfy her and make her happy. You loved the way her voice cried out moans of pleasure, the way she writhed in your hold and rutted against your mouth seeking more friction. The final straw for her was when you touched her clit again, rubbing it in circular motions while pressing your tongue at her most sensitive spots. Her eyes rolled to the back as an intense orgasm hit her, releasing as if a dam was broken. She cried out the loudest ever tonight, essentially squealing as you sucked out her delicious essence.

You lapped up all of her release diligently, cleaning up from every spot. You finally dropped her legs down, gently turning her over again and placing them on your thighs while she panted and took deep breaths. Her hair was scattered in a mess with drool dripping down her lips, yet she still looked as beautiful as always, akin to a Goddess. She soon raised up and gazed at you with the same lust filled eyes, still not having had enough. If anything, she seemed even more drunk in lust now. She practically pounced on you and pushed you down again while hungrily claiming your lips, her hips rutting across your abs.

“I haven’t had enough yet, Chief. Aaaah.... you drive me crazy.... I need you more. You’ll stay with me tonight, won’t you? I have yet to devour you whole~”

[fireheartpages]

never planned on | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one series masterlist summary: you never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day. word count: 2.9k notes: second person pov, reader uses she/her pronouns, has a nickname (i love dirty dancing) and a last name bc i want this to be readable. mentions of (reader’s) death, canon typical violence, you’re kinda mean to bodhi but it’s justified. i wasn’t really planning on writing any more of this tbh, but then i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i was like “oh this is so baby and bodhi” and then i was like okay yeah im writing more bc i literally could not stop thinking about them. i really wanted to end it where i had in the last chapter though, but i had so many ideas it felt unjust to leave them hanging, so i decided this is gonna be a sort of multi part series. this can be read as its own series, but i recommend reading the other part for development purposes :)

There were moments that were mean to test you, and moments that were meant to break you.

Your life, so far, had been full of these moments.

You had never planned to be a rider. Never really saw yourself on the back of a dragon, flying and jumping and falling like it was second nature. Never saw yourself handling things like the parapet or the Gauntlet with ease. You sought information, sought knowledge. Truthfully, you’d never really seen yourself going to Basgiath in the first place.

But when your father had run to the outskirts of the Tyrrendor province and left your mother to fend for herself during a historic rebellion, you had made a vow never to be as cowardice as he was.

Basgiath didn’t charge tuition, but not everyone had the means to pack up and travel hundreds of miles away from home to go study to be a glorified librarian. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you accepted the funds to be sent to the college with one condition and one goal.

The condition: Navarre would send you from the little town on the edge of the cliff side on Tyrrendor’s southernmost coastline to Basgiath if you would join the riders quadrant. The war effort needed fighters, and the Tyrrish had the most to prove. Or to apologize for.

The goal: to find out if your mother’s name was on the death roll.

So, fine. You were quick on your feet, could throw a decent punch, and weren’t terrible with a bow or a dagger. You could, with the right training, and an insane amount of luck, make your way through your education.

You never planned on being a rider, but you would do it if it meant you could get away from your dad. Prove yourself as something more than he ever could be. And find out if your mother was alive or dead.

You were at Basgiath three days before you read the death roll, your finger finding her name, your heart crawling its way up your throat as you stared at the parchment.

You hadn’t heard of separatists’ kids before going to Basgiath, and you were surprised to see the winding black swirls of the relics that marred each of them. It was a surprise, to say the least, and you were more than a bit concerned as to why you didn’t have one. Your mother had been executed for being a part of the rebellion, and yet you were a spared the horrors of everything the other kids had gone through. But it didn’t feel like a relief. It felt like that one word you had been running from: coward.

You toed the line of cowardice, unsure of who you could admit your history to. You hadn’t told anyone in your squad, not yet. You were certain anyone who wasn’t Tyrrish wouldn’t understand, and anyone who wore the rebellion relic would see you for what you are, or just resent you for it.

Suddenly, the saving grace of the riders quadrant turned into your doom.

You never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from Tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day.

He was all smiles and eagerness to help, laced with quick thinking and brutal efficiency. He was kind, too kind. Bringing you a balm to soothe the aching skin of your hands in a cold you’d never experienced in Tyrrendor. The cracking and bleeding on your hands was sure to be your downfall, until Bodhi Durran had offed you an olive branch, and practically gotten you through the latter half of your first year at Basgiath.

The sight of his rebellion relic had twisted your stomach in a knot. And then you got to know him. Started to fall for him. Found out that he was observant, and overly kind, and willing to put himself on the line if it meant helping someone else. Found that his skin was really soft, and that he could turn the knots in your stomach into butterflies when you watched one side of his mouth curve before the other, as if being pulled by an invisible string. Found you really, really wanted to know what ran through his mind when he looked at you like that. Found you couldn’t help yourself from running your thumbs along the lips that shaped that smile just for you.

Maybe it was a bad idea to open up the way you found yourself wanting to. Maybe Bodhi Durran was a bad idea. But also, maybe for a moment, maybe for more than a moment, Basgiath War College had become more than the death sentence you had assumed it would be. Maybe it had become a second chance.

And then you developed your signet.

Suddenly, more than your education and training was a death sentence. It was every teacher, every student, every secret that was meant to be your doom.

You hadn’t even considered it. Being an inntinnsic. It didn’t even seem in the realm of possibility. If you had to wager a guess, you’d have thought you would have a physical signet. Maybe a fire wielder, or maybe you could have a signet that made you remember everything you read. If that was a thing. Retrocognition would have been cool. Or illusions.

But then you heard it. Dain Aetos’ voice in your head as if he had spoken out loud, and it had taken all of your willpower, and counselling from your dragon to stay calm. Shocair had diffused the tension in you and gotten you somewhere safe, but even she couldn’t save you from an execution.

Every waking moment seemed to bring more stress and panic.

You weren't safe anymore. Every conversation, every look from someone had you convinced you were going to be found out. Every breath you took might be your last. You'd spent quite a few nights in the flight field, curled around a meager fire under Shocair's wing, just to have a moment of quiet. Of peace inside your own mind.

It was noise all the time. Every class, every conversation,

You would have given anything at this point to go back in time and change something—yourself, your mind, anything—to change the outcome of your signet.

You considered just turning yourself in a handful of times. Just walking up to Professor Carr and confessing. He probably wouldn’t even give you a warning before you were dead. It sounded peaceful. Shocair was adamantly against this.

Everything is exhausting now. Classes, training, all of it. If you knew how to use the signet, how to read the thoughts you hear as predictions instead of distracting clatter, you might be good at sparring. But all it does is serve as a block, a sledgehammer in your brain until you yield during challenges without putting up much of a fight. Everyone was going to figure it out, they had to. It was obvious something had shifted with you. You were just good enough at hiding this particular secret so that no one knew what.

It was all exhausting. All of it. From waking up and mentally preparing yourself to face the day, to dodging questions about why you were heading out to the flight field after dark. You were playing mental gymnastics just to get yourself from point A to point Z, and it was taking a toll.

There was one relief. Shocair was there to walk you from waking to sleep, through anxiety and panic attacks and interruptions and interactions. You were fairly certain that the only reason you got any sleep at night was because she was there.

You had never wanted to be a rider. Never pictured it for yourself. But you didn’t see another option anymore. You couldn’t imagine a you without Shocair. There was no going back, just through. You didn’t know what the other side of this looked like, but you were facing it. You hadn’t stepped towards it yet, but you were going to. Eventually. If you could stay alive.

It was the dead of night, and you were freezing, and the fire you had next to you was doing little to thwart the cold. It was one of those nights when other people’s thoughts were plaguing you, making it impossible for you to sleep, let alone take a full breath. No one ever thinks to shield in the safety of their room. Not that most first years were very adept at shielding.

But the flight field is quiet. You weren’t sure if Shocair was just really good at keeping her shields up after the development, or if your signet ability just didn’t extend to dragons, but either way, being tucked under her wing with a meager fire is peaceful, even if you’re still very, very cold.

You were just dozing off then a low rumble shook you awake. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought it was an earthquake, but it was just—

Shocair. And if she’s growling, she’s growling at something. Or someone.

You shoot up, shaking any lingering sleep from your brain as you make to leave the confines of her wing, but she doesn’t allow it. Doesn’t lift the protection to let you assess the situation.

“Shield,” Shocair says into your mind. “Now.”

There are voices, low, male, angry. And you’re panicking.

But there are no thoughts. Not until—

Daggers with weird makings, a mountainous region you were unfamiliar with, and two faces you did recognize.

Xaden Riorson, and Garrick Tavis.

You hear it.

“Is that—what the hell? We have to—”

Hear is a bad word for what your abilities show you, but you lack the proper understanding to explain it. Not that anyone is asking, and not that you’ll ever gain the understanding. You make do with what you have.

Another flash—gryphons and fliers. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, if she finds out about the rebellion—”

“Put your shields up,” someone hisses, Xaden, you’re pretty sure.

“What?” someone else asks, and—oh, you recognize that voice—and the noise inside your mind quiets.

“Shocair! Let me out!”

“I will not put you in danger.”

“You need to trust me to handle myself.” You almost stomp your foot, frustration boiling to the surface as a last line of defense, simply the tip of the iceberg that is everything in your brain at present, but you weren’t about to take it out on Shocair. Not when you couldn’t have survived a day without her.

You felt the hesitation down the bond as she begrudgingly lifted her wing, revealing you and your measly fire. You’re faced with three men—Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi as your heart attempts to take flight out of your chest.

“Baby?” Bodhi asks, all of his attention trained on you, sans that smile you loved so much.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Xaden asks—demands—using the wingleader voice. Shocair lowers her head, a low growl escaping from her as she bares her teeth in a snarl. Xaden is unfazed, but Bodhi and Garrick have the good sense to at least glance at her with reverence.

“Do not answer that. You are not his to command,” Shocair tells you.

“He’s my wingleader,” you respond to her, then to Xaden, “I’m not—”

But another growl, angrier with a puff of steam this time, crawls out of Shocair. You wince.

“Tell him.”

“Shocair would prefer I didn’t answer that,” you say.

Xaden sighs, and glances up to Shocair, who is still snarling at him, then back to you. “Anything I need to be concerned about?” He sounds tired, and a little wrung out, and you really can’t blame him.

The way he looks at you makes a shiver run down your spine. And not in a fun way.

“No,” you say. “Nothing. I just sleep out here some nights.” Another growl, and you clamp down on the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Xaden narrows his eyes at you, but it’s more in a that’s-the-weirdest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard way, and not in a you’re-hiding-something way. Relief is a palpable thing.

“Get to bed,” he says with an assessing gaze. “Or, whatever it is you’re doing. At least make it back to dorms in the morning and pretend like you slept there. I’ve heard your wingleader can be strict about curfew.”

You roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself. “Yes, sir,” you toss out.

Xaden motions to Garrick and Bodhi behind him, and Garrick makes to leave, following him. Bodhi loiters behind, casting you an assessing glance.

“I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“Bodhi—”

“Go.” He turns his full attention to you, but there’s no hint of your favorite smile. Only curiosity, and a bit of apprehension.

“You sleep out here?” he asks.

You nod. “It’s peaceful. Safe.”

His brow furrows, concern lacing through his features. “You don’t feel safe in your dorm? Did something happen?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just, you know. Unbonded cadets. Stuff like that.”

Bodhi nods slowly, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe the flimsy lie. “You’ve been…” he begins, and it’s obvious he’s choosing his words carefully, “distant. Lately. I feel like I haven’t seen you much.”

Well, if that doesn’t hit you like an anvil to the chest. “I don’t mean to be,” you say. Even though you do. You wish you weren’t. You have to be.

“How are your hands?” Bodhi asks, glancing down to where they are balled at your side. You had been wearing your gloves more often, since riding and the colder winter months had you going through the little tins of balm too often. You couldn’t ask Bodhi for more.

“Okay,” you say. It’s a lie. They are so, so painful. Every day is a cacophony of physical and mental pain, and with the cold weather, the joint pain had settled in.

“Do you need more of the balm?” he asks.

You had expected Shocair to butt in by now, but when you chance a glance behind you, she’s settled her head back into the grass, golden eyes half shut.

“No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to go through the trouble—”

“I don’t mind,” Bodhi says quickly. “I want to.”

“Okay,” you say. You can’t help the smile that wiggles out of where you were suppressing it. “I guess I can’t say no to you.”

The statement was meant as a joke, a light and airy tension diffuser. It doesn’t come out like that though. There’s more truth in it than you would care to admit. It settles between you, the admission pulled taught like a rope tied to each of your ribs, bringing you into one another’s gravity.

“Let me walk you back to the dorm.”

Oh, maybe you can say no to him. But it might break your heart in two.

“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you say, then, as if your tongue had a mind of its own, “I’m sorry.”

“How often do you sleep out here?” he asks, and it’s real, genuine concern in every fold and crease of him. Your pulse picks up.

“Sometimes,” you answer noncommittally.

He steps closer to you, and now you’re in each other’s space as if that rope had dragged you in. He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it. You stare at his mouth, because, holy shit, you want to know what his lips taste like so bad.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His gaze is on where he’s turning your hand over so it’s palm up and resting in his own.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

Bodhi screws up his nose, and it’s an adorable gesture that just about stops your heart for all the wrong reasons.

“You’ve just been so—” He sighs. “You’re so reclusive, and you’re pushing everyone away.” He goes to the buckle of your gloves, as if to pull them off and test your lies for himself, and suddenly it’s all too much. “I’m worried about you.”

You snatch your hand away. “You don’t know me well enough to be worried about me.”

You regret the words as soon as they’re in the air between you. The expression on his face—the confusion, the hurt— is enough to make you want to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness.

“And whose fault is that?” he asks. There’s no malice in his voice. It’s a real, genuine question.

You don’t answer.

“Have a good night, Baby,” he says, and he turns to walk away. This time, he didn’t say your name the way he usually did. It was a brand now. Not the affectionate honorific it usually came out as.

Your face is screwed up as you drop to the ground, your knees finding purchase in the grass and dirt as your breathe saws out of you. You can’t get enough air, and finally, your vision goes dark.

Not your vision, just the stars. Shocair’s wing is around you again, blocking out the world around you. She’s silent as you try to weather the panic, but there’s no use. It’s consuming you.

“Breathe,” she says, her voice a comforting presence in your mind. “You must breathe.”

“I’m trying,” you send back to her, unable to form the words verbally.

There’s some light let in, and then her giant nose is at your chest. You hear her inhale, and feel her exhale. She does it again.

You match your own breath to hers.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

[maykop1010]

Oh, you’re still on this? Talk about obsessed. Alright, let’s go.

First off, you’re doing a lot of mental gymnastics to avoid one simple truth: what’s happening in Gaza is genocide. You can spin it however you like, but redefining terms or adding caveats doesn’t change what’s right in front of us, an apartheid state systematically destroying an entire people. That’s not “urban warfare.” That’s ethnic cleansing.

And your little rant about me “obsessing” over the word genocide when Jews are involved? Spare me your weak ass attempt at deflection. Criticizing a government’s actions, like Israel’s, is not antisemitism. But calling out apartheid, war crimes, and genocide specifically when they’re excused or ignored? Yeah, that’s going to get attention, because people like you keep justifying it.

Now, your obsession with “spaceship”? Seriously get a fucking grip. You keep bringing up this imaginary person like a boogeyman you can’t get over. Sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s more than one person who sees through your bullshit. Maybe your talking points are just that bad.

Let me spell it out for you: I don’t give a fuck who’s committing genocide. Be it Israel, China, Russia, or anyone else, I’ll call it out. But the difference is that Israel silences any criticism by crying antisemitism. That’s the unique part. That’s why people are speaking up. Which honestly abhorrent, given that real antisemitism is disgusting.

Your problem isn’t with the use of the word genocide. Your problem is people calling out Israel’s government. And that says a hell of a lot more about you than it does about me.

So keep screeching at me about “spaceship” and I’m a Nazi cunt (my all time fav screeched at me by genocidal supporters like you), antisemitic, if it makes you feel better. All you’re doing is proving my point: you’ll twist any narrative to defend war crimes and genocide as long as Israel’s government is the one committing them.

Oh, by the way, let me know what you’re doing for the people of Gaza, the ones starving, the ones whose babies are freezing to death because, you know, the “beacon of democracy” won’t allow blankets or food in. Let me know what you’re doing to help Palestinians in the West Bank and Jerusalem currently living under apartheid. And please, do tell me what you’re doing to support Palestinian children as young as 11 who are held in military prisons without due process, subjected to torture, abuse, and rape.

Are you part of any solidarity or advocacy campaigns for the Uyghurs and other Turkic peoples being persecuted in China? Have you raised your voice for the Rohingya refugees, or taken part in any boycotts against the UAE for its brutal funding of the civil war in Sudan?

What about the children in the DRC, forced to dig cobalt with their bare hands? Did you by chance raise the alarm or boycott Israeli billionaire Dan Gertler, whose operations have been documented to violate human rights, including child labor and exploitation?

Have you done anything to support the peoples of the Caucasus who continue to suffer torture, disappearances, sexual violence, and discrimination at the hands of Russia?

Were you part of any of the thousands of protests against Assad’s regime for its barbaric acts, or did you happen to help provide food, shelter, and clothing for the Syrian families fleeing that nightmare?

Say, have you spoken up for Israeli women? Israel consistently ranks the highest in West Asia for documented cases of rape and sexual assault. In 2023 alone, 55,044 reports were filed with crisis centers, 17,484 of them new complaints. Over 80% of these cases were closed without indictments, “indicating issues with the legal process” while one in five women in Israel report being raped in their lifetime. In fact, the APCCI said “that the rate of violent sexual offenses in Israel was 10 percent higher than the average for Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries, labeling it as an "epidemic."

Have you by chance advocated on behalf of migrant workers in Saudi Arabia, many of whom endure conditions akin to modern slavery? Or supported Saudi women fighting for equal rights?

But please, keep screeching at me with the same tired talking points. Keep dodging Israel’s human rights violations, ethnic cleansing, and genocide. Your deflections only confirm what I already know.

The right hates Jews because the right are bigots. The left hates Jews because Jews are bigots!!!

Seriously Jews, it’s you. It’s not us it’s you!! Y’all treat all us “goyim” like trash and then act surprised when we don’t want to be around you. Then you commit a genocide against the Palestinians and act like the victims when people protest it!!

JEWS!!! IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO UNPACK YOUR BIGOTRIES!!!

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

I think I might sequester wip posts to once a week on a Thursday (coz it's Thursday). I'll post art and maybe a writing snippet if I'm up for it. Just gotta keep wips low-key.

anyway I got tagged by @skyrim-forever @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark Tagging @nyarevar and @archangelsunited. No pressure 🫂 The rest of the post is under the cut.

I've been working on the render that I started in December, just have his hair and some extra lighting details left.

And an idea for the next render

And a snippet from You, where Josh gets harassed by Hircine again.

“Fine,” I finally replied, shoving the ring back in my pocket, “What do you want me to do.”

The spectre nodded again, pleased with my answer, “I see you’ve matured since we last met, Blodskaal. I expected to hear protests?”

I sighed, “An what would refusing the Lord of the Hunt do? I’m old Hircine, I’m too fucking tired to argue.”

“You are a strange one, Nerevarine but I will make use of your—” The spectre paused for a moment and blinked its large eyes at me again, “Compliance.”

I grit my teeth as Hircine continued to rattle on, my hand still clasping the ring that I had shoved into my pocket.

“The one who stole my ring has fled to what he believes is his sanctuary,” Hircine continued, “Just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunter but only ends up trapping himself. Seek out this rogue shifter who has lost my favour, flay the skin from his body as you once did centuries ago and make it an offering to me.”

I shook my head as I finally let go of the ring in my pocket and folded my arms, “You want me to do what I did to Heart-Fang? Why should I do that? That kid’s done nothing to me.”

“Did Tharsten Heart-Fang do anything to you in the Hunting Grounds, Blodskaal?” Hircine countered, “Or was he acting on his nature?”

I rolled my eyes, “Heart-Fang attacked me in that maze, I don’t much care for his reasoning. That kid back in the gaols did nothing but annoy me a little. It’s not an equivalent.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before, Blodskaal.”

‘He’s right, Sero—'

‘Shut it,’ I mumbled under my breath. The last thing I needed was Nerevar’s input. It’s his bloodthirstiness that got me into that mess out on Solstheim in the first place. I was content pissing my time away watching that mine.

“Not an equivalent,” I spat, replying to the two of them. I’d killed my fair share of people for ridiculous reasons, sure but I didn’t relish in having blood on my hands. Well, not the part of me that I associated with my old self anyway. There was a part of me that relished it but I’d always attributed that to Nerevar’s influence. A partial melding between the two of us that didn’t quite work in his favour.

It's a part of me that does not mix well with who I want to be. It churns about in my gut and merges with my paranoia like a demented slurry. I’d always tried to push that desire out of my mind, but there's always something that grabs me and throws me back into wanton violence. Then I spend all my fucking time justifying to myself why I did it in the first place. If they attacked me, then I have a reason to kill as I wish.

The thought just makes me feel sick.

“There is no retribution in the hunt, Nerevarine. I do not seek vengeance as you do, no. Merely the glory of the hunt,” Hircine’s voice boomed throughout the clearing, and I struggled not to cup my hands around my ears. That kind of vulnerability in the face of the likes of Hircine would be a grave mistake on my behalf. Though it seems that the spectre noticed my discomfort regardless, “Nerevarine, there are countless others that would gladly accept my favour. They will hunt him while you delay. It is your choice.”

“I’m not looking for your favour,” I replied flatly, “If I recall you orchestrated this whole thing to lure me out of hiding. Why the fuck would I seek you out of my own volition?”

“Be careful with your words, Blodskaal,” Hircine threatened, “Do not think you have the upper hand here just because you possess my artifact. You may have once been favoured by Azura but she has long abandoned you. You crave that favour again. That is why you will do as I command, because you are compelled to do so by your very nature—”

I spat on the ground in front of me, the taste of ash burning in my throat as my fury rose. I hated this sort of tactic, insult aspects of myself that I had no fucking control over and attribute everything I do as an inevitability because of that. As if I was never capable of change. That I needed to be treated like shit just to get me to comply. I was no stranger to it, whether it was my bastard of a grandfather, Orvas Dren, Caius Cosades, Nerevar, the Daedric Princes, the fucking Tribunal! Fuck even you at the end reduced me to nothing but the curse that corrupts my flesh!

Everyone who ever believed in me is either dead or too far away to help me right now. All I had at the end of the day was myself and I’d been fighting alone for two human lifetimes at this point. The only person who could stand up for me is myself and I knew there was one thing this fucker was wrong about.

Azura never truly abandoned me, I abandoned her.

“Fuck this,” I growled, turning away from the spectre. I was done parlaying with a fucking Daedra. It’s rid myself of the ring in some cave or a deep hole or something and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass again. I heard my guardian move and crackle as Hircine’s voice boomed through the clearing once again.

“You never had a choice.”

And my own voice echoed his words as I hit the forest floor.

[mikeyfuckinway]

the harrowing experience of being an adult whose trans and polyamorous and into lolita fashion and being scared someones gonna come around the corner and call me a predator

[strawglicks]

sometimes i just gotta write/draw them arguing it keeps me going

[catmask]

all good?

if ur referring to the art block/being frustrated w my art donot worry its natural to happen 🫡 doing studies made me feel much better and so did talkng to my friends

[lucabyte]

Happy halloween from Purrgatorio!! This year's costume theme is: things that have been distracting me from writing Purrgatorio

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[inke-ri]

So I couldn't help but browse the THG tag bc those books own my whole heart. I actually check it now and again, and it's been interesting see how opinions have changed over the years, especially in regards to Gale and Peeta. Going through the evolution of them as just potential love interests to being far more complex than I could have expected has been a wild ride. Crazy how this reads different than from when I was a preteen.

That said, I wanted to give my unsolicited two cents on my boys, because though I have been enjoying the discussion on Peeta and Gale and what they mean to the story, I also feel like reducing them to Peeta = peace and Gale = war is far too simplistic... and oftentimes unfair to one or both of them.

See, I don't think Peeta and Gale are peace and war/destruction. They're compassion and indignation.

Peeta worries about the other tributes, or their families, or how to repay people like Rue and Thresh for what they did.

Gale is indignation at how the Capitol treats its citizens, it's anger at the injustice of inequality and brutality.

Both are needed in a story like THG. You can't have people like even Peeta not say something like "maybe we're wrong about keeping things quiet in the districts", you can't have him not drop the baby bomb, you can't start a revolution without Gale's indignation at the status quo. At deserving a better life but being denied it, at having your kids be mercilessly killed for literal sport.

However, if you start a rebellion and loose sight of your compassion, you end up no better than the people you're fighting against. Gale wasn't a bad person, imo. His heart was in the right place. He was flawed, yes, but so is everyone in this series. Gale, most importantly, lost sight of the line between fighting for the people he cared about and fighting against the people who hurt him.

Reducing Gale's indignation to just revenge and hatred ignores so much of what he stands for. Who hasn't seen laws passed that dehumanize people, who hasn't been angry and furious when someone is elected who fundamentally hates everything you are, who doesn't think some people need to pay for the atrocities they committed? There's a little bit of Gale in every single one of us - and it's important that it's there, because that's what gives us strength to challenge the status quo and make life better for the future generations.

But. You can't let it take over. You can't loose sight of your compassion or your empathy.

That's where Peeta comes in. Peeta is the voice in your head that worries about how many good lives will be lost when they give themselves up for this cause. Peeta is the worry about the people caught in the crossfire. Peeta is rebuilding when it's over and believing that the next generation will have a better life than your own. Peeta is being kind, even to people who may not deserve it.

And Gale... Gale looses sight of his compassion, and he doesn't realize it until it smacks him in the face when the bombs go off and Prim is gone and he's too far gone. Meanwhile, Peeta advocates for the end of the war even though it means the status quo remains - and regardless of what he believes himself, I don't think Suzanne chose him to say those lines by chance. It means both mindsets have their flaws: too kind and things that shouldn't remain will never be challenged and changed, too angry and you may loose sight of what you're fighting for.

And that's just how Suzanne uses her characters, both of them, all of them. Just look at who is with Katniss depending on the situation:

- Katniss chooses to "rebel" after Gale is brutally whipped. She kisses him.

- Katniss realizes that in order for D12 to rebel, everyone would need to be in on it, and she realizes most of them are not like her, that they're scared and she understands, emphasises with them. Peeta walks by her side.

- Katniss finally does it though, shoots the arrow at the force field, and Peeta is taken from her, it's now Gale by her side.

(You can't start a rebellion without indignation, and sometimes you HAVE to do it or things will never change, regardless of the inevitable pain that will come along.)

- Katniss is righteously angry at the Capitol bombing a hospital full of innocents to make a point. Gale remains there.

- Coin twists people's compassion into an army to fight for her own personal gain. Peeta is hijacked and looses his sense of self.

- Katniss and Gale go to District 2 and even though she tries to be like Peeta, she's still shot- reinforcing Gale's views, the person who was with her during that sequence.

- Katniss is angry at Snow, Katniss goes to the Capitol to kill him. Gale is there.

- Katniss gets in way over her head and realizes she is responsible for the death of most of her squad. She shares the lamb stew with Peeta, and later cleans his wounds.

- Finnick dies and she's at her lowest up until that point and all she wants to do is give up and give in to the anger. She kisses Peeta and begs him to stay with her.

... Claiming that Gale is destruction ignores the fact that he's with Katniss through her own moments of strength. Her desire to change things, to fight back, is as important as her compassion. Mockingjay just brutally shows you what war does to your indignation, to your compassion. How easy it is to cross a line between righteous anger and revenge, or how your sense of empathy and compassion can be manipulated into something monstrous by others, or by all the terrible, brutal, painful things you see.

How easy it is to loose yourself- and that goes for both of them.

Peeta and Gale aren't static characters, they go from representations of sentiments regarding an injust government to what happens to those feelings when an extreme situation such as war breaks out. All of that, by the way, while dealing with this duality themselves, because they are still characters who think and feel and struggle and have flaws of their own- and while I love what they stand for, I've seen too many comments that pin everything into what they mean, that they forget that Peeta and Gale are still people, they aren't perfect metaphors. They're human.

Ultimately, Katniss doesn't really choose peace. She wants peace, yes. But what she chooses is compassion. empathy. hope. There's a time and place for anger at injustice. There's a time when fighting back is the right thing to do. There are even times when you wanna give in to your despair and lash out. But if you want peace, then you have to choose Peeta, because Peeta represents what you need to focus on to achieve that peace. You have to let go of the anger or you won't ever rest. So Gale leaves, and does not come back... And yet, Katniss still has her moments of indignation, of making a stand, even as he goes - she still casts her vote at that meeting, she still shoots Coin. Katniss does not abandon that part of who she is. It's just not her main drive anymore.

So then she goes on to make the choice, every single day, to be compassionate to others. To have hope. To rebuild. Of course she chooses Peeta.

... Idk, man. These boys are so much more than what I see them so often reduced to. They're in all of us. There will be times to stand and fight, and times to show mercy and be kind. We just need to find that balance, as Katniss eventually did.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

riz gukgak is SO distressing to have as a favourite character I can never funckign rest out here

[majorasnightmare]

as a tragic doomed siblings enjoyer what are your headcannons about dirge/orin's relationship pre-betrayal? care to elaborate on what was going on with them based on what we know? when do u think the resentment from orin rly started peculating?

this is an EXCELLENT excuse to have somethin i can quickly refer to for autosarcophagy thank you 💜💜💜

so a LOT of it is speculation and headcanons with most of our canon sources being close to the end of their pre game interactions with each other. We know Orin resented Durge for taking what she felt was her spot, we know Durge demeaned her ritual murders and scoffed at the idea of fighting her for the role of Chosen, we know Sarevok essentially led Orin on by acting like she was ever anything more than a sacrifice, and we know that the cult of Bhaal isn't entirely pleased with the change in leadership. It's a fairly straightforward tale of resentment and betrayal and an unworthy upstart claiming what shouldn't be theirs out of jealousy, but I like to throw wrenches in the works and add fun complicating emotions in like genuine admiration and sibling affection

a core aspect to Dirge is that, much like real world wolves, he is deeply family oriented. upon arriving at the temple of Bhaal, he has killed his only family, and only has Sceleritas as company, who at this point is more cagey than comforting for him. hes lonely, and scared, and vulnerable, and is coming off a profoundly miserable experience roughing it in Baldur's Gate. the temple delivers on the one form of connection Dirge craves more than anything: not only is there family, there are siblings.

Dirge technically has four siblings waiting for him at the temple. Haflidi, who at this point would be either an older teenager or a young adult, an angry spiteful vindictive barbarian goliath. Ornaryn, a drow vengeance paladin, who IS invested in trying to make sure the Temple's newest additions aren't horrifically traumatized (and near immediately removed from influence and forced to travel to the other side of the continent). Zherimon, the eldest, a tiefling paladin serving as the current head of the cult (begrudgingly). And Orin. Not only is Orin close to his age, she's also the only one who's as happy to see him as he is to see her. His other siblings are all emotionally unavailable for one reason or another, but Orin is here and Orin is excited and now he finally doesn't have to be alone anymore. He latches onto her very quickly, and throughout his entire time with the cult, she's the only one he was ever close to.

Orin is canonically the youngest in the cult to ever achieve the rank of Unholy Assassin, which, given that shes close to Dirge's age, would mean she achieved that lofty goal BEFORE him, and I like to think this is another example of Orin's latent natural talents and skills that eventually contribute to her feeling ignored and overshadowed. Because for at least half of their lives together, it would've been the other way around. Dirge and his prodigy sister, who had already served as Bhaal's mouthpiece once before in the ritualistic killing of her mother. Ironically its a relationship they were both happy with. Dirge arrives at the temple emotionally distraught, but now Orin finally has a playmate her own age, AND hes going to join the temple, same as her! Finally someone she can practice murder with that isn't grandpa Sarevok!

Dirge is a crybaby as a kid, and hes quiet and deferential. This is a new place, with lots of new people (and he's never been fond of new people), and he still feels sick about his parents, but he hits it off with Orin immediately. Orin has a strong mischief streak, emboldened by her shapeshifting, and she ADORES having someone to teach and be superior to. Dirge in turn is happy to have someone who delights in teaching him, because a lot of whats going on is confusing and unintuitive and upsetting. Orin softens his early years of indoctrination into something that could even be construed as pleasant. She excels and pulls ahead, and she bullies her brother for being a crybaby, but she still reaches out behind her to help pull him back up. Orin very much takes on the role of "big sister" even though its a negligble distinction given their circumstances. She teaches him how to delight in torture, makes the doctrine of nihilism make sense, emphasizes that the two of them are special and chosen and important, that they dont have to care what other people think, because theyre stupid and wrong anyways. She diminishes the pain he feels from killing his parents by affirming what SHES been taught, that it was a good and holy and rightous thing and he deserved to be rewarded for it, just like she was (though maybe not the SAME reward because SHES going to lead the temple one day!). Sarevok and Zherimon have already decided on grooming Dirge for the role instead, knowing EXACTLY the difference between them, but both Dirge and Orin are children, whats more important is making sure Dirge is properly indoctrinated, and Orin is very useful for that.

Theyre thick as thieves for most of their childhoods, Dirge perfectly content to trail behind Orin wherever she goes, and to follow her progress right on her heels. Orin definitely has the most energy of the two, and she delights in playing leader, deciding exactly what games the two of them will be playing and where, while Dirge pads along behind her. She gets into the habit of shapeshifting into him for one of her favorite games, that being "find ways to bully and harass the other initiates in the barracks and avoid trouble by making sure no one can tell who's who". As Orins changeling nature is well known, you can never really tell if your looking at Dirge or looking at Orin, who will tell you whichever is more confusing at the moment. As changelings and dopplegangers have empathetic abilities, this also means that Orin is extremely keyed in to Dirge's emotional state. She typically uses this to lightly bully him, but also typically follows that up with attempts at genuine comfort, because a good leader has subordinates happy to follow them, and makes sure theyre taken care of well enough to serve. Theyre siblings, and theyre best friends, and theyre little hellions, and Orin knows every crack and crevice in the temple and where exactly there are spots too small for the grownups to follow them that the two of them can still crawl through. The cult is slowly but inevitably carving away their empathy for the world outside, bringing them into a miserable ideology of death dealing and slaughter, and isolating them from anyone who could ever break them free, but right now they are small and close and she is showing Dirge exactly where to stab in a rats belly to make all the guts come out, and when he scrunches his tiny face in disgust she'll call him all sorts of names, but take his tiny hand in her own and hold the knife together nonetheless

Dirge doesnt resent Orin when she makes rank before him. He doesnt resent Orin when she excels, when she grasps the knifework faster, memorizes the doctrine quicker. He doesnt resent her when she gets assignments first, or when they work together and she takes the lead. Thats the goal hes chasing, after all. To be as good as his sister. To eventually pull ahead. To play chase like they always do. But when he DOES pull ahead, when the lead he has grows but never shrinks, its equal parts pride and confusion. Proud to finally surpass her, confusion that he KEEPS surpassing her. Shes slower to catch up, angrier about it. It isnt resentment, not yet, just frustration. Theres something hes stumbled into that she hasnt gotten yet. More reasons to train together, after all, put their heads together and work it out. But when the cult finally passes down the mantle of leadership, it doesnt pass into Orin's hands, youngest Assassin, pre chosen vessel of Bhaal. For reasons neither of them understand, it goes to Dirge instead. Purest bhaalspawn, severed hand of their God let loose, the one true prophet of armageddon. It doesnt make sense, but hes trained so hard and come so far, he wont dissapoint their Father now. its a bitter pill orin doesnt swallow easily. its there the resentment starts

The gap wont ever close now, not really. Dirge is too neurotic, too anxious and obsessed. He leaves no breathing room for anyone to pick up the slack, because he leaves none, will not ever give the slightest hints of being unworthy. Its suffocating. Diminished, demeaned, forgotten, Orin falls to the wayside, swallowed within an ever lengthening shadow, and he never turns to her, never reaches back. Pushing himself to the breaking point, and then far past it, and now HIS word is law, is doctrine, when it should have been HER, she who spoke with Bhaal's voice when all he has is fleeting visions. The resentment grows, made all the more acrid by the sweet memories of yesteryear. Its like everything shes worked for means nothing, and now he wont even cast a glance her way. Seeing him less and less, and then never as himself, always acting as Leader, Prophet, Idol, everything the cult needed and more, and now when habit rears up and she takes his face to talk to him, he scowls at what he sees. Like the bastard ever had a leg to stand on, she knows what he is, pathetic weak crybaby bloodkin trailing in her wake, acting big and strong now that hes special. Now that hes chosen. Like he knows something she doesnt. Like he could ever know something she doesnt. Grandfather calls him proud, arrogant, and theres no other explanation for the cold she feels from him, inside his skin, its cold arrogant bastard pride for finally besting her at the only game that mattered.

It falls apart slowly over the years. Sarevok, and then Zherimon, instilled in Dirge the need for perfection, to serve as Bhaal's will on earth, and the need for it burrowed deep into Dirge's psyche and consumed everything else around it. He loves his sister. He misses her. But this life is hell and Bhaal's expectations for his chosen spawn are cruel and exacting. All Orin needs to do is what shes always been good at, thats enough. He'll take on everything else so she isnt choked or constrained, so she has room to flourish. He's pulling further and further away from her and it hurts but theres nothing to be done for it, because its Father's will (HIS father, not that he could ever stand to tell Orin, and take from her yet something else, another pillar she stands lofty upon). Shes more than a sacrifice, thats obvious by the way she holds a blade, and Dirge refuses to waste her potential in a single sacrifice to Bhaal, when together they could bring so much more glory to Him at each others sides. He won't take the duel. If she wants for them to kill each other, she must promise a death so glorious as to make this single murder worth more than all the slaughter they could achieve together. The idea is laughable. Somewhere in the back of his mind behind a door that wont stay locked is a treasured sentimental sin, two tiny bodies pressed together in a crevice only barely big enough for them both, outside a man about to be flogged for his failure calls out a name neither of them respond to, and all else is quiet save for the hushed giggles swallowed by the stone. No, she isn't worthy. She isn't worthy by far.

Its a mix of Dirge taking on as much responsibility as he can while leading the cult to give Orin more freedom, and Orin having next to nothing to do with all that extra time and lack of duties beyond ruminating on the discrepancy between them. It feels like she isnt trusted or considered good enough anymore, when she clearly remembers the opposite, and the more he pulls away the more she hates him for it. The resentment is tempered by religious duty and childhood memories, but even though Dirge makes attempts to try and bridge the gap, the circumstances are that there really isnt anything he can do. I like to headcanon that Dirge helped Orin make her skin suit, because he has a noted habit of taxidermy and human leatherworking, as a way to try to reach out to her, but the inertia has built up too much to stop whats going to happen. It was doomed to fall apart at the start, driven by forces neither of them could have even hoped to work against.

The love was always there, but it just made it hurt.

[quietwingsinthesky]

see my brain just doesn’t register the idea of anyone having a ‘one true love’ which is why the common fandom tropes of making canonical love interests terrible in order to justify why your ship is better always bugs the shit out of me. it feels like the only reason you would do that is if the idea of the characters in your ship having any other sort of romantic relationship that was important to them, even in the past, is a threat to their current one, therefore all their past relationships need to be demonized in order to make them ‘not real love’ so that they remain pure and chaste and ready for the True Love of the endgame ship.

[jinxed-sinner]

Do. Do people realize relationship dynamics can change??

Usually I stay out of shipping discourse but people need to realize that relationship dynamics can change. I personally don't think Lucilith, as of now, is canonically toxic, but i DO think there are toxic patterns in how Lilith treats Lucifer and his relationship with Charlie. I have every right to think it's fucked up that Lilith made a deal with her ex to stay in the realm that traumatized her husband though! This isn't me saying "Lucilith is bad and shouldn't be shipped" because I like pre-series Lucilith. More accurately, I like pre-Charlie Lucilith. It's implied in More Than Anything that Lilith didn't like the things Lucifer was showing Charlie so she just forced them apart, potentially making Lucifer’s mental health issues worse.

I'm not saying people can't like Lucilith, but if you think it's NOT weird for Lilith to be in Heaven on a deal with her ex, you're sanitizing the situation because by doing that Lilith left her mentally ill and traumatized husband and her daughter to rule Hell on their own. She hasn't talked to Charlie or Lucifer in 7 years.

(Also, they might not be divorced but they are separated, as mentioned by Charlie; she specifically refers to "after Mom and Dad split". I can't say I'd blame Lucifer if he did decide to divorce her though.)

I'm not trying to indicate that Lucilith is objectively bad or anything but I AM saying Lucilith shippers need to stop using the family portraits to deflect "Lucilith looks like it MIGHT be toxic in the current day" commentary because like it or not, Lilith leaving her kingdom that Charlie claims she absolutely adored for her daughter and mentally ill husband to rule and leaving to the realm that traumatized her husband so bad he doesn’t seem to care if they decide to try to kill him is fucked up.

[casualavocados]

this is such a solid show so far, i dont even know what to say. episodes feel long, but they're not boring. they're lingering, they last. it takes everyday emotions and everyday experiences and lets them play out; it confers importance to the small things. the story and overall plot-per-ep is simple yet genuine, and everything and every character feels so lived-in. i like the mix of fun and serious, i like the steady growth and trust between mork and day and the little buds of tension starting to bloom. i love the way the camera brings things to the forefront of the viewer's attention, the way expressions are shot and how long those shots are allowed to last on screen...you really feel the emotion coming through, and it really impresses me from both an acting and directing standpoint.....im just rambling but the jist of it is that i'm really enjoying this

[sendmyresignation]

realizing that my family is mostly just casually unkind and this is something i have to constantly train myself against