#cw slavery

[blightbright]

I agree with some of this, and I'll add a thought to this bit:

"Solas is no longer leading a freedom movement, but pursuing vengeance. His mission to destroy the Evanuris has overtaken everything."

I think this is, importantly, a magical side effect, not simply an emotional arc.

The original Mythal binds Solas as a spirit, and Solas is bound until the very last optional moments of DA:TV. His rebellion against the Evanuris is an extremely difficult balance, because, at the end of the day, Mythal wants to uphold the rule of the Evanuris, and some part of Solas is bound to her will, even as he retains some ability to think and make choices. She's almost certainly sabotaging his work of true freedom (because having power serves her), while also tolerating his rebellion, because it gives her a chance to gain more power over the other Evanuris, because she has some shared goals (like not wanting everything to get Blighted), and because she sees herself as the Good Ruler (but still a ruler, and still a slaver). Celene's mindset in DA:TME is an intentional Mythal parallel that makes this super clear.

The benefit and also the trouble for Solas is, after Mythal's death, Mythal wants vengeance against the Evanuris who killed her. And what a catch-22 for Solas. Now he has more leeway to tear down the current system, because Mythal finally wants vengeance against it. He now has a purpose as "Mythal's creature" that supposedly aligns with the goals of freedom (punishing the Evanuris). However, as you point out, even this distorts what he's able to do, because it's driven (magically, not just emotionally) by vengeance-seeking for Mythal. We see examples where Solas exhibits increasingly unwise, corrupted Pride behavior in his means, even though his ends still align with the rebellion's needs, and even though he succeeds in some ways. (He does stop the Evanuris from destroying the world, he does help many people get free from slavery.) But the means matter.

I'm not super well-informed about LotR but I think you mentioning that is probably a good example, because there is a magical curse involved. People getting obsessed are being strongly influenced by outside forces, even if they have some choices. This also isn't just about trauma, though trauma metaphors are happening. I think you're right about the blurred motivations and I think it's in large part because Mythal's magic has, like the red lyrium idol image suggests, bound and partially blinded and entwined and distorted Solas into Mythal's own corrupted will, so much that it's very difficult for Solas to act against it. (He does act against it, because people always resist, but it's hard.) The hope would be that it gets easier after she dies, but she's so woven into his spirit that without his binding being truly broken, I think it's the opposite. I think the magic really kicks off and the "curse" of vengeance and obsession really clamps down even harder after that.

So I'd propose that "ideals become chains" accidentally sidesteps that chains are also chains. This is also a narrative of insidious spiritual slavery.

Solas' Blurred Motivations

I've been enjoying discourse around Solas, lately it seems to be how he views modern elves. Some argue that he doesn’t care about them, while others insist that he does. 

What if the issue isn’t whether he cares or not, but how his reasoning has blurred over time? 

Solas’ has never acted out of apathy. On the contrary, he is an emotional being. His choices are driven by urgency, conviction, and a ruthless determination to see his plans through. The closer he gets to his goal, it seems the more ruthless he becomes. Is this ruthlessness innate - or is it the desperation of a man who believes he has one last chance to set things right?

Even if Solas comes to accept the people of Thedas as real, I don’t believe he could ever truly accept Thedas as his world. He will always see it as a broken version of what should be - and that’s where the blurring comes from. He convinces himself that restoring the ancient world is the same as saving modern elves. But it never can be. 

His regret mural with Mythal is a good indicator. It shows us that even Solas, through his own memories, recognizes that his justifications are flawed: 

"Why should I not tear down the Veil and bring immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!" 

In his mind, he isn’t imposing destruction. He has rationalized destruction as salvation. 

But Mythal exposes his self-deception: 

"The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love be torn apart to salve your conscience!" 

Solas has lost perspective. His reasoning is no longer about the elves, but about his guilt, just as it was in Inquisition: 

"I was too weak to unlock it after my slumber. The failure was mine. I should pay the price. But the people... they need me. I'm so sorry." 

Solas was framing his actions as something for the people back in Inquisition - but his self-imposed responsibility was distorting his reality then – a distortion we see in how even Solas recalls that memory in Veilguard. 

Anyone under prolonged stress, trauma, and guilt will begin fusing personal needs with external justifications. Solas isn’t thinking clearly - his reasoning has become warped.  

I truly believe Solas does not operate in malice. He is not evil, is not led by hate. Some may see him in absolutes, I can't. His goal of returning to the elves what he had taken shifts into an obsession with the Veil itself, regardless of consequences. Any compassion he may have held for modern elves is blurred over time by his guilt for what he did to the elves of the past. Blurred by his guilt of what he did to the Titans.

So, I don’t think it’s that Solas doesn’t care for modern elves – he has tunnel vision. He can't see that modern elves might not want his world - because he can never actually live in theirs. 

Mythal’s Death 

It’s interesting that Solas leans more into ruthlessness after Mythal is murdered. Before, he was a revolutionary leader - freeing slaves, fighting against tyranny. But after Mythal’s death, he becomes something else. His choices grow colder - sacrificing spirits, elves, and allies alike.

Felassan notices this shift - Solas is no longer leading a freedom movement, but pursuing vengeance. His mission to destroy the Evanuris has overtaken everything. And we see this pattern repeat in Veilguard - after Inquisition. Solas consumed by his goal, withdraws from those he created connections with, just as he did with Felassan. The isolation of a revolutionary who no longer listens. 

The closer Solas gets to his goal, the more consumed and desperate he seems to become. He loses sight of the people in his pursuit of 'saving them' (in pursuit of a world that Mythal would have 'wanted').

When Ideals Become Chains

Fiction is full of characters who lost themselves in their ideals. People so consumed by an end goal that the means overtake the original intent. I think of Boromir from The Lord of the Rings - his intentions with the Ring were initially good. He wanted to protect his people so badly, but he became obsessed with its power and nearly lost himself. Or Anakin Skywalker, whose fear of losing Padmé, his mother, pushed him into desperation, leading him to betray everything he once fought for. 

Solas has ideals, but he’s lost sight of them and his belief in freedom does not make him immune to war’s darker influences. War does not leave its fighters unchanged. Soldiers return from battle with fractured identities, blurred morality, and wounds both seen and unseen. The longer they fight, the harder it becomes to separate the cause they once believed in from the choices they made to survive. Why can’t this aspect be applied to Solas as well? He's been in war for millennia.

Solas may, deep down, truly want to restore immortality, to restore magic - but the path to hell is paved with good intentions. He sees only his sin, his failure, the suffering his actions have created.

I don’t think Solas can ever exist in Thedas as it is today. It’s no longer his world. Leaving to enter the Fade prison seems the only path left to him, especially if he chooses it willingly. He may come to accept that modern Thedas deserves to endure, but that doesn’t mean he can endure within it. 

Discussions about Solas often call for nuance, to think in terms of grey rather than black and white, yet many still judge his actions in absolute terms - either as wholly justified or entirely unforgivable. In reality, his choices and actions exist in complication and complexity.

[quarterlifekitty]

The aforementioned dark circus!AU

cw: slavery/human trafficking

Price is the ringmaster, and co-owner of the show. He’s the man who bought you from the auction block, because he saw something in you. He’s the man that holds your freedom in his hands.

Who are you? You’re the costumer for the circus. You spend endless hours in a cramped fitting room, fixing rips and tears, sewing sequins onto bodysuits— fighting with performers over what would suit them.

Ghost is a clown and an illusionist. He makes it a point to get on your good side— he needs your handiwork to make his act. Secret pockets, flaps, and panels on his costume are an integral part of it all. He bought his freedom years ago, but remains loyal to Price for reasons unknown to you.

Gaz is a trapeze artist. You receive a lot of gifts from him— apologies for how often his tight costume is prone to ripping, and what a pain it is to replace the embellishments in a way that’ll hold up through the whole show. He’s graceful in the air, and an incorrigible flirt on the ground.

Soap is the daredevil. He sustained a brain injury a long time ago, and it’s dulled his sense of pain immensely. You spend as little time on his costumes as possible— knowing most of them are one-time uses before they’re rendered into scraps with scorch marks. He’s constantly getting kicked out of your little workroom— if he’s got no costume to discuss, he’s got no business with you, you’ve tried to explain.

König is the Goliath, the strong man, able to lift other performers with ease as well as a whole host of other things. His height staggers the crowds, emphasized further by some cleverly integrated platforms in his shoes. His size makes it nearly impossible to make him things unless it’s entirely from scratch— something he apologizes for profusely.

Nikolai is a beast master. A natural command over tigers, elephants, and any other caged creature he happens upon. And he looks at you like you’re about to be a part of his menagerie.

Rudy is a roustabout— he works the set pieces and props, suspends the tent— and has to wrap it all back up with. It’s time to move on. It makes little time or reason for him to speak to you, but he always makes a point to visit you and bid you goodnight when he can manage it.

Graves is a fire-spitter. Often spotted without a shirt and holding a bottle of liquor by the neck, he was acquired when Price’s circus took over another. He’s got marks of disobedience— whipped when he tried to run away— scars still plain to see as they web across his back. He’s always asking you to run away with him— and you’d can’t for the life of you figure out how serious he’s intending to be.

You? You want to keep your head down and earn enough to buy your freedom in a few years. Then? You’ll say goodbye forever, and if you ever smell sawdust again it’ll be too soon.

Your hopes are dashed when Price comes to check on you late into the night. He hears you singing the way you do when no one is around, sees you weaving a needle in and out to the rhythm, looking ethereal even under the lamplight that flickers every few minutes or so.

Now he’s looking to make you the jewel of the entire circus— taking center stage with your costume and voice for all to enjoy. Something that will surely keep you chained to the circus indefinitely— Price isn’t known for letting star attractions walk away.

[palameiad]

i present to you; my take on some of penelope's suitors / the odyssey's traitors!! (only the ones i had a clear-ish vision for tho) design notes, credits, and general rambles are under the cut 🫶 + i forgot to add that my eurymachus has a forked tongue but he does okay it's very much real...

this took yearssss so i'm gonna go into hibernation before deciding if i wanna continue doing the rest of them 🥲 also i feel compelled to tag this as such so uhm. spoilers for the odyssey i guess??? specifically books 2-24 😗

inspiration / reference credits: messymoonmad / messymoonmess, hymnoeides, linkcharacter, duvetbox, solvanei

big shoutout to everyone i mentioned here but unfortunately i'm too much of a coward to @ them + idk if i'm allowed to LOL... definitely go check them all out tho they're great!!

[blightbright]

mythal nuance

look, i love some yikes women characters!!! have i mentioned how much i fucking adore knight-commander meredith? yeah, that genocidal zealot? sympathetic lawful evil ftw. one of my ALL-TIME FAVE CHARACTERS is mariah dillard from the luke cage TV show. she is ABUSIVE, including to her daughter, she is devastating and so well-portrayed, and she is such a terrible person AND i just adore her in her harmful flawed tragic selfhood!

flemythal? fucking love her, she's awful, she's hilarious, she's compelling, i think it's a travesty that devs didn't get kate mulgrew's voice and the flemeth appearance back in some timey-wimey fade magic way. i love how she feels at odds with herself, sometimes vengeful, sometimes regretful. i love her sweetness toward merrill and her funny interactions with purple!hawke, i love her confusion that morrigan is upset with her, i even love the YIKES ambiguous, semi-motherly, semi-loverly, intimate owner-pet vibes head stroking and nuzzling between her and solas in the DA:I end credits. OUCH.

veilguard!mythal IMO feels more like a mediocre narcissist who wants to maintain the status quo, and of course is faux "loving" AKA guilt-tripping and strings-attaching her "care." that's not badly written since it's a real thing, but she's not for me. the fact that elgar'nan presumably abused her is not super compelling to me because IMO it gives the flavor of a confederate slave-owning white woman whose husband is a piece of shit AND ALSO she still thinks slavery is fine and actively upholds and abuses her power over other people. this is not an analogy: mythal literally owns people as slaves. in my fic i try to give her some fairy queen style, wouldn't-it-feel-so-good-to-die-for-me vibes where she's liberal with her magically-hypnotic praise if you please her, to make her more inhuman and therefore interesting to me, but anyway.

i'm seeing accusations of misogyny if people love solas and hate mythal, and while we can and should critique how women characters are written and discussed, given the canon content, it's NOT an inherently misogynistic reaction to hate the character who abused a character you love. i saw a thing insisting "solas is always defined by mythal" and to respect mythal and... really? critique the writers as much as you want for setting this up, but do people really want to say we should always identify a person by their abuser's influence, or offer respect to that abuser??

are you also gonna say "morrigan is always defined by flemythal, acknowledge and respect her when talking about morri" after we know for a fact that flemythal repeatedly exposed morrigan as a child to sexual situations that resulted in violent death, encouraged her to push down her own sensitivity and feelings and focus only on power and manipulation, and morrigan tells the spirit in DA:O that she's still acting too gentle to be the real flemeth, even after smacking morrigan hard across the face and demanding morrigan show some respect? she had an influence on morrigan's life, but holy fuck does morri deserve to define her life by her own desires and her own choices and accomplishments now

if people are aware that solas was given mythal's slave markings, since she was a slaver like the other evanuris, then he burned them magically off his face when he led a slave rebellion against slavers, and hear all the clips in veilguard where she is clearly in a position of power over him, and still claim there was no abuse, idk what to tell you. you are incorrect. please consider if you have some cognitive dissonance about how much you love to hate solas (tho you can still do that even if a character has experienced abuse) and/or how much you want to enjoy mythal (tho you can still appreciate an abusive character).

[angevinyaoiz]

Patrochilles x Troilus

A goofy scenario I’ve had in my head where instead of getting Super Murdered Troilus just gets kidnapped and this causes lots of problems and annoyances for everyone. Take notes folks, remember to do ur research and consult ur partner before impulsively attempting to add a new member to ur shared harem…

[mjrtaurus]

So something that caught my attention with the Dragon symbolism stuff with the world nobles vs how it’a used in the RA led me down a rabbit hole that I found interesting enough to share.

So the whole thing stems from two instances of dragon claws being depicted in One Piece.

So! First we have the Celestial Dragon Claw, four clawed, used as branding to mark word noble “property”. Then we have the Dragon Claw Fist, three clawed, a fighting style that we can assume was developed by the RA using the Finger Pistol of the Six Powers as a base.

The difference here is the number of claws, which is what lead me down the rabbit hole in the first place.

The consensus is that the claw number of a depicted dragon is actually a class indicator. Bear in mind that these observations stem from Chinese folklore and its place in Imperial Chinese law, so it might not hold water. And as always do correct me if I’m off in any of these points.

The number of claws and the colorations of dragons in Imperial China was an extremely important thing, and misrepresentations of these could quite literally get you and others executed for acts of treason.

Five clawed yellow or gold (or red during the Ming Dynasty) dragons are a symbol of imperial power for the emperor alone to use. It was illegal for nobles and civilians to wear anything depicting a five-clawed yellow or gold dragon in Imperial China. It was considered- as stated above- an act of treason, and offenders (and their families) could be imprisoned or executed for the crime.

Four clawed dragons are a symbol of nobility. Lesser in the hierarchy than the imperial dragon, but still a mark of high status. It was illegal for civilians to wear depictions of four-clawed dragons. Again, a treasonous act punishable by death or imprisonment under Imperial law.

Civilians could depict dragons with three claws. This was allowed.

So, we can make an assumption here that through these observations, the RA use the three clawed dragon as symbolic of the class warfare that is happening in the One Piece world. But there is another thing!!!

There are these things called Dragon Dance Competitions, where a nine-segmented dragon puppet is manipulated by a team of dancers and musicians to have the dragon chase a pearl- a symbol of wisdom- across the allocated space. These are very interesting to watch, and I highly recommend giving one a watch, since there are plenty of them to see on YouTube. Do take care if you are photosensitive or sound sensitive, as they are bright and loud.

A tradition for these competitions and others (such as lion dances and dragon boat races) is called an “eye dotting ceremony”, which happens at the beginning of the competition. An authorized party comes by to paint the pupils on a dragon to symbolically awaken or- relevant to this post- empower it.

The Celestial Dragon’s Claw is a symbol nobility, and likely has high amounts of regulation on how it can and cannot be used, with infractions on those regulations met with imprisonment at best, and cipher pol or a buster call at worst. It would be highly guarded, and was used to brand people to mark them as property, as we know.

The dragon depicted in the introduction to the Dragon Claw Fist that Sabo utilizes? Three claws, no pupils. It is an unempowered civilian dragon- a weakling by dragon standards- and it is beating the shit out of a World Government official.

Class warfare symbolism. Revolutionary symbolism.

[sarafangirlart]

Honestly if we really want to talk about “silenced” voices in mythology, let’s talk more about the slavery, even when a character is enslaved and very open about how miserable and horrific it is, there is rarely ever condemnation of slavery as a whole, it’s seen as a fact of life, characters that are “good guys” are depicted as having slaves. Also why was Ajax raping Cassandra any different than Agamemnon making her his ‘concubine’? In both instances consent is impossible. Even misogyny is called out and condemned more often.

[unforgivenn]

16th HOUR - #6: Under Hammer

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: Violence, Dehumanisation, Slavery, Drugging, Family rejection, Non-con Handling

Samuel’s pulse raced as the curtains parted, revealing a dimly lit room filled with rows of seats. The audience sat in shadows, their faces hidden, yet he could feel their eyes on him—cold, calculating, eager. The auctioneer, a tall man with a slick appearance, stood at the front of the stage, his voice booming as he introduced the event.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s auction!! We have a special treat for you—a handsome young man, in excellent condition! Perfect for your collection or personal use.”

Samuel’s heart pounded in his chest. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck His mind screamed in protest, but his body was paralyzed with fear. What the fuck, what the fuck, Somebody please get me out The room felt like a nightmare, the air thick with anticipation and depravity. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck Every step he took felt like a march toward doom, his chains clinking softly against the polished floor. What the fu-

“Present the item,” the auctioneer commanded.

A handler pushed Samuel forward, and he stumbled, the chains around his ankles preventing him from catching his balance. He fell to his knees, the rough wood biting into his skin. The audience murmured among themselves excitedly, some even squealing and giggling. Samuel’s face burned with humiliation, but he forced himself to stand, his legs trembling.

“Please... let me go,” he whispered, barely audible. The handler yanked him upright, ignoring his plea. Not like he expected the man to listen to him anyways.

“Head up,” the auctioneer snapped. “Show them what they’re bidding on.”

Samuel lifted his head, meeting the gaze of the audience. The best he could do right now was listen. He wanted to scream and shout as much as he could though that didn't seem like such a good idea in a place filled with strangers, and guards with guns across their chests. Especially if he wanted to avoid pain. The faces he saw were devoid of empathy, their eyes glinting with greed and curiosity. They saw him as a product, an object to be bought and sold. It made his stomach churn with revulsion.

“Look at his build, his complexion,” the auctioneer continued, walking around Samuel, gesturing at him like he was a piece of meat. “Healthy, strong, and obedient. Perfect for any household. We don't get such men much. I'd consider this a special one then.” The auctioneer winked and laughed, though Samuel felt like puking.

Obedient. The word echoed in Samuel’s mind. He wanted to scream, to fight, to break free, but he knew it was futile. The system was designed to crush any semblance of rebellion, to strip away every ounce of humanity.

The bidding started, voices rising from the darkness. Samuel’s thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of fear, anger, and despair. How had it come to this? How had he gone from being a person with dreams and aspirations to a mere item on a stage?

“Do I hear one million? One million, thank you. One point five? Two million, excellent!!,” the auctioneer’s voice droned on, each number driving a nail deeper into Samuel’s soul.

He remembered his family, the way they looked at him when the classification results came in. The disbelief, the horror, and ultimately, the cold rejection. They couldn’t accept that their son was now livestock, a being stripped of rights and dignity. They didn't care. The memory was a knife to his heart, the pain as fresh as the day it happened.

“Three million, ladies and gentlemen. Three million for this fine specimen. Do I hear three point five?”

A wave of nausea washed over Samuel. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of his helplessness. The air seemed to thicken, pressing in on him from all sides. He wanted to disappear, to escape this twisted reality-

“Three point five! Going once, going twice—”

“Four million.”

The voice was cold, authoritative. It sliced through the murmur of the crowd, drawing all attention. The auctioneer paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he regained his composure.

“Four million. Do I hear four point five?”

Silence. The room was thick with tension, the bidders hesitant. No one else dared to challenge the new bidder. The auctioneer smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Four million, going once, going twice—sold!”

The gavel came down with a resounding thud, sealing Samuel’s fate. He felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, the finality of it crashing over him like a wave. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his chains rattling in the oppressive silence.

“Congratulations to the winning bidder,” the auctioneer announced. “You’ve acquired a truly exceptional specimen.”

The handler hauled Samuel to his feet, dragging him off the stage. The curtains closed behind him, cutting off the view of the audience. Samuel’s mind was a whirlpool of emotions—fear, anger, despair—all mixing into a nauseating cocktail that threatened to overwhelm him.

He was led down a dim corridor, the oppressive atmosphere pressing in on him. His thoughts raced, trying to grasp onto any shred of hope, but there was none. He was a prisoner in this twisted system, a pawn in a game he didn’t understand.

The handler shoved him into a small, windowless room. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the confined space. Samuel sank to the floor, his body shaking with silent sobs. He was alone, trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight.

As the hours passed, Samuel’s mind wandered. He thought of his family, his friends, the life he had lost. He thought of the government that had condemned him, the society that had turned its back on him. He felt a burning rage, a deep-seated anger at the injustice of it all.

"Why?"

There was no answer, only the cold, unyielding silence. Samuel curled up on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to find comfort. "Why why why why why?!!" His thoughts drifted to the future, to the unknown fate that awaited him. "FUCK WHY?!" He tried to steel himself, to prepare for whatever horrors lay ahead, and to just not cry but it seemed impossible now. He was being sold. Like someone who had no life, no thoughts, no family.

The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. Samuel looked up, his eyes red and swollen from crying. The man was tall and impeccably dressed. He had expected some fat, old, pervert which this man was definitely not. He could still be a pervert but he wanted to cancel that situation out the most.

“Hello.” he said, his voice smooth and condescending slightly leaning down to see Samuel's face properly.

This fucker. He was talking to him like one would to a cat. Swears were burning up at his throat with tears that unfortunately only heavied when he saw the man. He wanted to punch, kick, swear, kill him but the only thing he managed out was- "G-Get away.."

The man’s gaze remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating as he took in Samuel’s defiant posture. “Oh, come now,” he said, his tone patronizing yet unbothered by the hostility. “I’m here to finalize the details of your new life. You’ll find it’s quite different from the one you’ve left behind.”

Samuel’s heart raced faster, the blood pounding in his ears. The man’s words seemed to echo in the empty room, mingling with the remnants of Samuel’s fading hope. He could barely focus on the man’s features, his mind a tumult of panic and resignation.

The man continued, unperturbed by Samuel’s pleas. “You should be grateful. Not many get to experience such... exclusive treatment. Rather, you would've already been beaten down for not giving proper respect to your owner.” He gestured dismissively towards the door. “Now, we'll discuss the rules when we reach home.”

Grateful? How could he be grateful for being bought like an object, for having his humanity stripped away? How could anyone be grateful when being treated like this? His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to hold back the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Who... who are you?” Samuel managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

The man straightened, a smile playing on his lips. “My name is Marcus Caldwell. And you, Samuel, are now my property.”

Samuel’s stomach turned at the word. He wasn’t a person anymore, just a possession, a thing to be owned. His mind raced, desperately and he almost didn't even notice the needle now in the man's hand.

"No no no no no noo get away!" The man was on him in seconds with the needle stabbed into his arm. Samuel screeched, his back arching at the rough treatment.

"Shhh.. It's for your safety, love. Just until we reach home."

That wasn't his home. His home was- oh.. he didn't have a home.. Tears filled his eyes with black spots forming in front of them.

Just how many times was he going to be drugged in this life?

Next

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@vampiresprite/ @lucas--43

[thelunarsystemwrites]

do you know who Killer and Dust are, Sans?

do you realize how merciful Muffet is to have enslaved you?

you should be.

You should be fortunate it was her who got to you first.

Textbox: ..Yeah. could be worse.. Still, wish it wasn't happening at all.

my silly little depressed man... reblog to give him some love 🥺

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Caged

(This is a longer one and will be put under read more. CW: There is slavery, but the reader is looking to free/dismantle the system in their own way)

You came across the caged people in the middle of the day. There were no code words or secret passages to get to the displays. It was like any other booth at the bazaar.

Most of the cages were filled with beastmen. Unlike the creatures who roamed the forest, they would walk on two legs. Some could even speak.

Lionmen, Tigerladies, Avian Sapiens, "Not Deer", Chimera, and even a few Phoenixes all stared at you as you walked. Some grabbed the bars and strained their faces to look at you. A small flicker of danced across your eyes. Maybe a spark of hope that they would be freed.

"How long has this been going on?" You asked your companion.

"What do you mean?"

"The slaves?"

"Ah. Well, my dear blue blood..." Their voice trailed off as they stared at the cages. "Surely you heard about the market for this? They're not slaves..." They wiggled their fingers, brows furrowed as they attempted to come up with an explanation. "Merely.... Indentured servants."

"Why not put an offer up on the boards in town?" You raised a skeptical brow and ventured closer to the cages.

A walking stick slapped your chest. The impact smarted. Wincing, you stepped away to rub the sore spot.

"You shouldn't question this so much." Your companion hissed next to your ear.

"How much are the contracts?" You asked. There wasn't much left in your purse, but surely you could at least free one.

"Sorry?"

"We offer a wide variety of specimens and creatures." A well dressed figure stepped out from behind one of the cages. He ran a walking stick of his own across the bars, causing many who had come forward to retreat and whimper.

"We've broken them in ahead of time," His smile made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "So they should already be obedient."

"Broken in?" Your brows raised more. So they had beaten or tortured these creatures into compliance?

"Don't worry, little Blue Blood." The man bowed. "We would not want a client to be harmed by the merchandise. If one does harm you or run away, we will send in our own parties to capture and return them, and give you a new one."

Your companion must have seen your scheming expression. The waling stick slammed down on the top of your foot and a quick throat clear was all the warning they could offer while being discreet.

Your eyes went to the Lionman again. They'd shorn his mane. Nicks and a few notches in his ear and surrounding fur showed how gentle they'd been. Dried blood and dirt clung to his body.

Your stomach churned at the fetid stench and sight. The sign declaring his price seemed insultingly low for another life. But considering how much the sellers had damaged the "merchandise", perhaps that was why.

You put down the coins.

The merchant slid over papers. The sloppily applied seal at the bottom hinted at their legitimacy, or lack thereof. Clenching your jaw, your eyes flicked to the top of the page. The spot next to "Name" was blank.

"He's your property, so you get to call him what you want."

"I'll... Think about it."

***

When you arrived home, the newcomer's nose wrinkled, sniffing his new environment.

Setting the papers down, you waved over one of the notaries, who came over with blank pieces of papers and writing tools. While you could read and write, the palace preferred the people they paid to be the ones who crossed the Ts and dotted the Is, along with minding the Ps and Qs.

"What is your name?" You asked the creature once your companion left to the servants' quarters. Laughter and cheers erupted shortly after.

The sudden noise had the Lionman's eyes wide, what little fur he had standing on end.

"They're always off by the seventeenth mark." You explained.

His eyes remained focused on the door. A chalice fell over as his thrashing tail struck it. As red wine sloshed across the table, the notary screeched, trying to save the paper.

Fabric tore and in a golden blur, the Lionman's fist slammed down on the table in front of you.

A filthy rag was clutched in his hand. And he was wearing less clothing than before.

"Forgive me." His hand trembled as he attempted to wipe up he rest of the wine.

"It's okay." You tried to keep your tone gentle as your heart became a battering ram against your chest. He'd moved so fast. Tore off his clothes, just to keep some wine off yours.

"And what is the name of my savior?" You tried again, now that you had his attention.

"I... Do not have one."

You inhaled sharply. Perhaps releasing him back into the wild wasn't the best option, just yet.

"Well... I paid a gold piece for you. You have golden fur. And you clearly are showing you will be worth every piece." You looked to the notary.

"What's another word for gold?"

"Well, an old word for gold piece was "Aureus."" The notary explained as they spread the papers across the tables.

You turned back to the Lionman.

"Is that acceptable?"

He dropped to one knee, arm across his abdomen.

"Of course, Master."

[blightbright]

I need you all to know that one of my life missions right now is apparently to talk about Solas and Mythal by comparing them to DA2's Fenris and Danarius

really that's all I need to say probably because, uh... slavery

like, that's it??? but I will go on! I don't think Veilguard did a very good job of making it clear, considering how spoon-fed some of the other themes were! it took me a MONTH after playing to frame it in these terms, or maybe I'm just oblivious considering how obvious it is in DA:I in hindsight. 0% hate on people who don't get it right away, but:

s l a v e r y

realizing that Solas' storyline has ALWAYS been about resisting authoritarian slavers, including Mythal, was a revelation for me, and everything falls into place after that, literally everything this wise glow worm man ever says and does. everything.

it also means I am losing my mind a little bit now about the cuckolding jokes etc re: Mythal and Lavellan because Lavellan is not ~the other woman~ or whatever else. Lavellan is a consensual beloved who can be with Solas as his free, true self.

whatever flavor of interaction Solas had with Mythal, that's his slaver and abuser. swap Fenris, Danarius, and a romanced Hawke into the language of these convos and watch the YIKES unfold

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can I see the chitnids taken down a notch and the two humans from Disciplinary Action escape? I wanna see the reader and that guy get a happy ending in more ways than one 😘

Kabr0z Writes episode 65: Escape Attempt

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: oral sex; drugs mentioned; slavery mentioned; pregnancy; space flight; suffocation mentioned;

A/N: Well, I have a feeling this is going to be another one of those stories that instead of being straight porn winds up being a completely different genre before the plot, the timeframe, and the demands of the format start grinding against one another and people start to fuck.

Ah, well, let's watch two people escape from some aliens then fuck each other's brains out.

########################################

You touched the module, buried in the flesh at the base of your skull. Your master didn't activate it often, preferring to use the threat of it to force your compliance rather than actually reducing you to a heap of inert limbs and drooling flesh. It was a gilded cage in which you lived, but the bars held you even if they weren't visible. At least you had company.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Zane looked over to you. The scars on his skin never really faded from his previous owner's attentions, but his clothes were at least more pleasant for him now. Leather straps and gag replaced with flowing silks and bracelets. You'd started calling each other pet names almost exclusively, your owner read a few schlocky romance novels when he bought Zane and took them as though they were textbooks. He knew how humans fucked though, and made sure you did at least three or four times a week, dosing you both with the Chitinid aphrodisiac drugs and turning you loose on one another to rut until they wore off.

"I'm fine," you lied "Just need to get out of here" You weren't fine. Your period was late. Hell, it was AWOL last month, and you definitely should be feeling the start of this month's by now. There's no doubt, you were carrying Zane's child

He sighed "I know. Me too. Not that I don't like spending time together, I could've been in for much worse, but the thought of having a family for that... That bug."

You stroked his arm, cuddling into the crook of his neck. You held one another close, feeling each other's skin.

He looked at you "I have a plan. It's a bad one, and it's super risky, but it's a plan."

"Go on"

He nodded "We're headed to a jump gate. Thing is, this one comes out outside of Chitinid space. With any luck, we'll be able to drop an escape pod mid-flight, come out before the mothership and claim political asylum"

He wasn't kidding, that was an awful plan. If you failed... Well, best case scenario if you failed was the collar. Worst case would probably also involve the collar, come to think of it.

"I'm in. What's the play?"

Zane explained his plan. It was remarkably simple but relied on some assumptions. Firstly, it assumed this ship worked like his old master's. On that one, when it was in Witchspace it lost most of its peripheral systems as processing power diverted to navigation. Secondly, it assumed the collar modules in both of your spines would be considered peripheral systems, or at least low enough priority to take offline. Thirdly, that the idea of political asylum existed outside Earth history books.

Finally, and this is the kicker, it relied on an escape pod jettisoned at superluminal velocity into Witchspace both not immediately shredding into stardust and actually winding up in the vicinity of where you hoped to be.

"That's damn risky, Zane" Skeptical wasn't the word

He grinned, "What's the other option? That baby you're trying to hide not knowing a single day of freedom?" He smiled at you, taking your hand "I know enough, you haven't used any pads for almost two months."

You couldn't argue with that. You started to plan.

Step 1 was to wait, and watch. The PA system was punctual, as ever, so you knew exactly when the jump would be upon you. The trick was making sure you could find a pod bay where a janitor wouldn't be there. Thankfully, there's only two. One spilled glass of wine and a bug with a mop will be there.

Two minutes to the gate. The portside pods were unguarded. You waited together there, the wave of sickness coming over both of you at once as you entered Witchspace, normalising back down as causality fields erected within the hull of the ship.

Now's the time.

Zane grabbed the hatch wheel of a pod and turned heartily.

You waited for the collar.

It didn't happen. Your limbs remained yours, even as the pod door swung open. You climbed in with Zane, the close confines designed for the short Chitinid frame squeezing you close to one another.

The hatch swung closed, you looked at each other. You hit the button.

Acceleration. The pod hurtled on rails. G-force gave way to weightlessness. The pod left the causality field. You gained speed, the ship lagging behind you.

It's working.

No causality field means you travel faster, but your computer doesn't work, nor does anything it controls. Both of you held your breath. Pods don't hold much air, and with no computer the circulation wasn't running.

The pod was still accelerating. The ship lagged behind as you reached dizzying speed. The pod stretched across the altered spacetime, elongating as it sped up faster at the front than the back.

You hit the opposing gate like a train hitting a hill. Space crumpled and you slammed into yourself as regular spacetime causality reasserted itself. The computer bleeped to life, fresh air replacing stale as you hammered the SOS call button.

A ship answered your hail, a grey bulbous-headed alien on the screen, looking for all the world like a stereotypical Roswell martian. The alien spoke

"Greetings, you look like humans, is that correct?"

You stared, open-mouthed. The alien repeated itself, you assume in Spanish, before Zane spoke

"Humans! Yes! We request political asylum from the Chitinids!"

"Acknowledged, Chitinid vessel is expected in 90 Terran minutes, we'll have a dropship to you in 60. Welcome to the Vezzik Star League"

You'd made it.

You'd actually fucking made it!

You kissed Zane, holding his face to yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Wanna celebrate?"

"We've got time"

The silks did nothing to cover either of you. His cock was already starting to stand to attention as you grabbed it, jerking it as he stuck a pair of fingers between your thighs to stroke your moistening folds. You hit the gravity control, you started to float up as you repositioned, his head between your thighs and yours between his.

You licked and sucked on each other, your tongue teasing the end of his cock as he sucked your clit, fingers pressing into you as you rolled his balls in your hand. Your moans and grunts mingled, filling the capsule with the sounds of your pleasure.

His hands gripped your waist as he rotated you, swinging you around to put his cock at your entrance.

"Nice to do this sober for a change"

You gasped as he entered you, fingers still working your clit as his hips thrust again and again. You held your tits, still swollen and plump from the party when you met. Drops of milk leaked from you as you kneaded your soft flesh. Your orgasm rolled over you, gentle waves of sensation building as hos fingers worked over you, the delicious friction of his cock inside you adding to the feelings which overwhelmed your mind.

He pushed in harder, feeling your orgasm around him as he sprayed his seed at your already-occupied womb, the warmth filling you with a need to be held, to be loved by this man whom fate gave you, and who gave you your freedom in kind.

You stayed in each other's arms, the climate controlled pod keeping you safe and warm until the Vezzik ship scooped you up out of the blackness and into a hangar bay.

You're free at last

####################################

Yeah, I liked that one, but was it hot? I don't know.

As always, requests go to my ask box, there's only 3 definite "no" categories so if you're unsure if I'll write something please do ask, it'll probably be a yes

[mjrtaurus]

Dark!Dragon having no faith in any gods, but a particular level of resentment towards Nika.

Dark!Dragon wearing the Nika earrings because they are his mother’s and nothing more.

Dark!Dragon having to leave when Kuma shares the Buccaneer’s story of Nika because it hurts to hear.

Dark!Dragon having resentment for Nika like so many of his fellow pit fighters.

Dark!Dragon looking at his son in Gear 5, and only being able to see Nika.

Dark!Dragon looking at his son and asking Nika where he was when he was stolen from his home and sold to the highest bidder. Where he was when he was taken to Mary Geoise in chains. Where he was when they shoved him into the pit of the Arena. Where he was when he was facing people he was a fraction of the size of as a child? Where he was when he was facing children a fraction of his size as a man? Where was he? Where was he?

[stheresya]

Daenerys' storyline in ADWD is a good way to complexify heroic narratives without invalidating the idealism of the savior. What is in question isn't the morality of freeing slaves (because that's already indisputable), but how to integrate them in society in a effective way when that goes against ancient traditions of subjugation. It offers an honest portrayal of power struggle, how the oppressing class does not give up their power easily, and in order to make a revolution stick you must give the oppressed the necessary tools to keep themselves empowered, the oppressed must be able and willing to reign fire on those who seek to put them in chains again. With heroic narratives there's always an extraordinary someone saving people from certain doom and everyone is happy. the end. But with Dany there's an exploration of the aftermath. Her storyline explores her struggle of wanting to do good, on trying to keep her people safe while dealing with powerful people who seek to maintain their hierarchies. It's an exploration of what power can mean to different groups. Power can be about subjugation but it can also be a way to prevent yourself from being subjugated. The great masters would not have behaved differently if Dany had proposed gradual and peaceful reforms on slavery, because they cared first and foremost about their status as a ruling class, and that status was only possible through the exploitation of other people, because for a group to be above requires all others to be below, stepped on by those above.

[unforgivenn]

Masterlist

Noah shuddered, the tears welling in his eyes mixing with the blood and sweat on his face. He tried to pull away, but the strings only tightened, biting deeper into his flesh. Andrey laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down Noah's spine.

"Struggle all you want, slave.," Andrey murmured, his lips brushing against Noah's ear. "You'll only hurt yourself more. Accept your fate, and perhaps, just perhaps, I'll show you a mercy."

But Noah knew there would be no mercy. Not from Andrey. The prince's touch was as cold and unyielding as the chains that bound him. Nevertheless, he was too ensnared in his thoughts to make out Andrey's words. He felt as if he was teetering on the brink of insanity. There was just pain, pain, and more pain.

Every moment in this hellish place was a relentless assault on his mind and body. The constant pain, the fear, the humiliation—it was all too much. Noah's thoughts raced, a chaotic whirl of memories and nightmares. He remembered his life before this, the freedom he had taken for granted, now a distant, cruel dream. He remembered his mother making rhubarb pie for him. His sister running around the house lighting it up with her talkative nature.

Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? The questions had been echoing in his mind ever since he came here but now he heard them ring in his ears louder than before. He felt his grip on reality slipping, the edges of his sanity fraying with each passing second.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drum of panic. He tried to focus on something, anything to ground himself, but all he could see were the s, the blood, the darkness.

I'm finally losing it. I'm losing my mind. The thought was like a dagger to his heart. A part of him wanted to laugh at himself, at this whole shitty situation while the other wanted to just sob at his helplessness. The fear of what he was becoming was almost worse than the pain itself. He was no longer just a captive; he was a broken man, teetering on the edge of madness.

Andrey's voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, a chilling voice in his head that repeated again and again. "You're mine, Noah. Mind, body, and soul. There's no escape for you. No hope. No mercy." He wanted to help him to shut up but it felt as if he couldn't open his mouth anymore.

Wait.. What was he doing here again..?

Noah's vision blurred with tears, his body trembling. He wanted to scream, to beg for release, but he knew it would only bring more torment. He was trapped, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. The shackles that held him were more than just physical restraints; they were the bonds of his shattered will, the chains of his despair.

I can't do this. I can't keep going. The thought was a desperate plea, a cry into the void. But there was no one to hear it, no one to save him.

The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in, the air growing thin. He was suffocating, drowning in his own fear and pain.

Help me. Someone, please, help me. Please help me please help me- The plea repeated in his mind like a chant thought it went unanswered, lost in the abyss of his despair.

He was just a puppet, and Andrey was the puppeteer. And in this twisted game, there were no strings that could be cut to set him free.

(THIS WAS NOT A PART OF THE MAIN SERIES)

Taglist: @miireux134 @nuriiz134 @ash-reh @noeul-whumpppss @morning-star-whump

@parasitebunny @anutz1234 @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumped-by-glitter @someoneoninternettt(let me know if you want to be added or removed :D)

[lazerswordweilder]

“I still don’t like this.” General Skywalker complained, with a new, young voice.

“It’s creepy how young you sound. I thought Rex growing out his hair was the weirdest part!” Commander Tano exclaimed quietly, then quickly looking to me “You don’t look bad- just strange. It’s new.”

“You chose this.” General Kenobi reminded him, though he looked sympathetic

“Rock and a hard place.” General Skywalker muttered, shifting his hands in the bonds. We walked into the courtyard, and he fell behind me, keeping his head up for a second, before he bowed it, slouching a little. He looked just like what I imagine Miss Shaak Ti did as a teenager, if not her expression or posture.

Creatures fought on the ground and heavy smells of spices and people crammed into tightly packed spaces assaulted my senses “Just like home.” General Skywalker muttered, Commander Tano (showing no skin and helmet engineered to make her montails look as much like ears possible) asked

“Tatooine wasn’t like this?”

“You’ve only been to the desert and Hutt palace.” General Skywalker explained

“Why’s your slave telling tales human?” a voice jeered at me, a crowd gathered up behind him. A voice spoke into my mind

“You know your role Rex, you’ve got to play it.” General Skywalker reminded me, head still bowed, body tensed like he was prepared for a hit

“He’s cocky, his old master was soft, he’ll only last a minute under me.” I bragged,

“Really? Going to sell it off fast so the blame for its manners doesn’t lie on you?” one of them asked, the others hitting tables and shoulders, laughing

“Actually, I’m here to see the queen.” I told them

“What makes you worthy?” one asked, another pushed to the front, raising their whip

“And why shouldn’t we beat you, then sell you along with your slave!” another cheered

“You’ll think twice when the queen hears you prevented someone with news about Bruno Denturri!” I threatened.

Suddenly, one of the many floating droids circled in front of me

“Halt! Cease all hostilities! This man is to be escorted to the palace by order of the queen.” it commanded, the first one to yell sneered, then walked off, making a follow gesture. We walked after them.

Soon we arrived at the queens palace, General Kenobi and Commander Tano had split off somewhere along the way.

“Make sure all preparations are complete for this evening.” she paused, playing with one of the exotic looking birds, then looked at me, “And fetch refreshments.

“My queen, I present Liam Hilo.” the first slaver said

“Hm. So you’re the man who claims to be acquainted with Bruno Denturri?” she asked,

“Yes, your highness.” I replied,

“Compliment her.” General Skywalker spoke into my head, I mentally ran through the list of compliments we’d come up with “He didn’t tell me you were beautiful.” I added after a pause, I think I was too long, but the queen looked amused, then angry

“And did Bruno speak of my intense hatred of him?” she snapped “Or did that escape his memory as well?”

“He didn’t need to say anything, your highness. He won’t be speaking anymore, I killed him.” I told her, her eyes widened “As proof, I bring a slave from his palace.” I pulled on General Skywalker chains, I was sure he must be strong enough to not move, but he stumbled forwards.

I pulled off the robes he was wearing, revealing the blue and gold outfit. He turned to glare at me and bared his teeth, body language aggressive

“You impress me, Liam Hilo. He’s quite a prize.” the queen complimented. She walked down and General Skywalker got on his knees, teeth gritted

“And to have defeated Bruno Denturri in combat?” she smiled, showing sharp teeth “Well, you must be quite the warrior.” she complimented while circling General Skywalker, nodding and tsking at various parts of him, like he was an object she was considering buying “The slave is certainly of fine stock. Bruno always knew how to choose a beautiful female, I guess he was skilled with males too.” then she touched him, he grabbed her hand, staring straight into her eye

“Don’t you dare.” he hissed, each word angrier than the last

“Though she’ll have to be processed. Her demeanor leaves much to be desired. What is your price for her?” the queen asked me

“Her beauty is nothing when you’re here.” I told her

“Liam Hilo, I appreciate your boldness.”

“You’re truly magnificent, title, blah blah blah, blah blah, -don’t add those blahs, just keep talking.”

“You’re truly magnificent, your highness, I’ve seen a lot of planets, none compare to you.” I flattered her as best as I could,

“Perhaps there’s a way to put a price on your slave. Come, walk with me.”

14 - Masterpost