#cw: slavery

[ladylucksrogue]

Whumpuary

Day 23: Can't Do This Anymore (Rex)

Rex struggles with nightmares after Kadavo

Shoutout to @whyamismall for the ideas on this one! You have have the best ideas on how to whump poor Rex, really, and I couldn't help but combine a few.

cw: mention of slavery, injuries. It's dark but nothing explicit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61978897/chapters/159897505

[teamdilf]

Once, Melody was a song. For years, she’s been trapped in a cage, but soon that will change.

The story of how a young galley slave gets rescued by a Lord of Fortune, who offers her a brighter future, a home aboard his ship, and a new name.

Above, there’s a clash of steel and shouting. The order to drop anchor is usually preceded by an order to stop rowing; a rare break for the lot of them. None of them stop; no orders mean this is a trick and someone on the crew is hungering to dole out the lash. Now, they fight the anchor with every pull of the oars.

Long ago, she learned not to complain. Doesn’t matter what she thinks because she is warm flesh that was sold to move a ship in the shallows.

Agonized screams. The Denerim elves murmur to themselves and their hands drop off the oars. She’s alone on her own oar, pulling in vain, moving it an inch at a time. Warm flesh cannot move a ship alone.

[hoboblaidd]

The Evanuris' Rule

How did they come to be remembered as gods? Slowly. It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil, right and wrong, chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, then finally gods. The Evanuris.

I want to talk about the devolution of Elvhenan after the war with the Titans from a loose system of warlords to the worst sort of feudal theocracy. I'm not going into Solas' rebellion apart from pointing out that the people under the Evanuris' rule did try to fight back, and they were brutally crushed until the rebellion became centralized.

This is an incredibly long post that may be a bit rambling. I've tried to organize it. This is Elvhenan, so there will be discussions of slavery. It's the essential throughline - it's easy to talk about gods and their politics in an almost ASOIAF way. It's high fantasy drama and fun to dissect how immortal god-emperors think. But it's more important to talk about the people who suffered under those politics, and how they fought back.

First, note that this is pure headcanon territory based on the lore we have from DAI and DATV, and my own historical research. I am not an expert. It has been a long time since I studied European and Japanese history. I'm not making any findings or stating opinions on the real world, just using these as an analogue to Elvhenan.

Feudalism in Elvhenan

Think of Elvhenan as a feudal world - warlords ruled their slice of land, and dictated how all the people on it lived. As their power grew, so too did their tyranny. It devolved from governing food and trade to controlling how their people would live, what they would do, how they should act, etc. Warlords took their shares of all commerce from their subjects, a tithe or a tax that grew more oppressive as they grew in strength and their land grabs turned to infighting. 

Each Evanuris governed their lands and their people differently. As with their archdemons, their governing style reflected them. Elgar'nan would rule his lands differently than say, Sylaise. But they all lusted for greater power.

Even before they declared themselves gods, the people under their rule fell more and more from serfs to slaves. The warlords came to control everything about their lives. The people were marked by vallaslin. I think this was proclaimed as a mark of "protection", when of course, it was a mark of ownership. "Those who bear the mark of Dirthamen are protected as his people from the dangers of the other kings." The grip of ownership tightened beyond that. Along with the more real world analogues like food, commerce, tax, etc., Elvhenan had greater ways of subduing their people. Travel was restricted by the eluvians - June built them so only those with the keystone could activate it. Leaving the relative safety of their villages was dangerous - Andruil hunted her own people and Ghilan'nain's creations became more and more twisted. The people became wholly dependent on their respective warlords to just survive.

Elgar'nan and Mythal's Central Government

Elgar'nan consolidated these warring factions under his umbrella, a more centralized governing system as opposed to dozens of fiefdoms fighting each other. He could mediate disagreements, but his temperament was not suited for peace. He wanted above all else to rule over everything. But Solas also tells us that he raised like minded people up as dictators in their own right. He wasn't building a senate so much as creating new fiefdoms that were fiercely loyal to him. It's a land game - the more land an Evanuris had, the more control they could exert. But his style of governance, that of an iron fist, was bound to incite the other warlords to chafe under his imposed rule.

Mythal became the actual arbiter of feudal Elvhenan struggles. She dispensed justice when Elgar'nan's vengeance could be avoided. It was she to whom the other warlords came to settle disputes. She played the precursor to the Game well enough that Elgar'nan allowed it. Her power was great enough that she was almost his equal. Almost. The mural of the Evanuris' apotheosis is a telling one. Though Elgar'nan and Mythal stand side by side, she is a little lower than him. Again, he allowed it. In his mind, this still makes the final word his own.

Despite Mythal's stabilizing influence, the infighting continued. Perhaps not all out war except when things got too extreme - Falon'din's bloody civil war that she rallied the gods to subdue, or Andruil's mad rampage when she was infected by the Blight. But they still sought to seize more and more power. With that comes a tightening of the chokehold on their people, and a propaganda war that sowed the seeds of their claimed divinity - "Falon'din will protect you from Andruil's bow;" "Pray that Andruil strikes swift and true against Falon'din's encroachment onto our land." That sort of thing.

Apotheosis

Solas suggests that all elves had magical abilities, which I tend to agree with. But the Evanuris' powers outstripped his and certainly all of the rest of the peoples'. They could control minds, twist forms, create new "life." To see your king move the sun becomes something otherworldly. Divine, even. 

Elgar'nan's leap from king to god-emperor is not a big one. They'd already gained total control over their land and people. The next logical step for creatures voracious for more power can only be godhood.

By the time the Evanuris declared themselves gods, they had total control over their people. It is not just protection that keeps the people humbled - it is fear. Andruil's people prayed that she would not hunt them. Whole villages were twisted by Ghilan'nain for nothing more than the pursuit of her creative ambition. Thousands were sacrificed to build monuments and "wonders." These people lived on the knife's edge and at the whim of capricious, all powerful assholes.

If you step out of line, the gods make a crater of your entire city. If you dare to think differently, your mind is broken. But their control was not just this almost divine power. It was also terribly mundane: propaganda, societal brainwashing, restrictive education, etc. etc. All the stuff we've see play out in the real world. It's just as effective.

Again, each Evanuris' power was different, and so their rule over their people would be too. Elgar'nan dominated his followers' minds to force them to joyfully obey their 'Father.' Mythal placed her most 'loyal' servants under a compulsion, sapping their will to replace it with her own. Sylaise created a wonder that was fueled by the blood sacrifice of hundreds or thousands of slaves. 

Nixe quoted that damning "sermon" from Veilguard called The Trials of the Gods the other day. I'm going to copy a portion of that here:

How does one serve a god? For the poor souls still in thrall to the Evanuris, that question has been answered for them. Service is no longer willingly given: it must be wrested, and it must entertain.

This is the lot of the people under their gods. Their very will stolen, broken, to the point that they can only mindlessly obey to fulfill the wishes and whims of their ruler. The loss of free will is terrible in and of itself, but that their forced servility was also intended to entertain? It's pure decadent Rome with the unrestricted, supernatural power to dominate. And why? because these beings are all powerful, and since there is no way to go higher than a god, they grow bored. Their people are their playthings.

Mythal as an Illustration

We have bits and pieces of damning lore about how the people under the Evanuris' rule lived, both from Felassan and scraps of firsthand accounts. But our greatest analogue for how those people lived is in how we dealt with the god who is most familiar to us: Mythal.

Mythal's admonishment in the Trial of the Gods sermon is both a glimpse into what the other Evanuris were doing and to her own cruelty: 

Shall you kneel in terror, work mindlessly, parrot my virtues, and think it the greatest of compliments to me? Do not merely follow the wise. Seek the wisdom they sought.

How can those under a compulsion, those so accustomed to subjugation that they lose their freedom of thought and will, be expected to "seek the wisdom of the wise"? This is not Benevolence. This is an impossible game. It is not nurturing free will, it is setting pieces on a board and watching how it plays out. It is entertainment. And what is their reward? That they learn how to better serve their god.

Is this not the same as Flemythal's "a soul is not forced on the unwilling", when her life has been spent trying to break Morrigan's will to the point that she would agree to the acceptance of the soul (which she did in Veilguard)?

Mythal's help to us the player character always came at a price - forcing us to petition as her subjects did when we need her help against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain; her 'aid' of the Hero of Ferelden being a mask to conquer Morrigan; helping Hawke's family escape the Blight as long as they secreted her away; only helping against Corypheus when either the Inquisitor or Morrigan were under her direct, physical control. She demanded the same from her slaves that she called 'chosen'. 

This sermon is one of praise to Mythal. It mourns those under the thrall of the Evanuris while Mythal delivers a sermon of seeming benevolence. They are also under the thrall of an Evanuris, but her manipulation is so great that they don't even see it.

Rebellion

I'm not going into Solas' rebellion, except to say this: Imagine Mythal's cruelty tripled compared to someone like Elgar'nan, and the people's hopeless situation becomes unbearably clear. How can anyone hope to fight back against that? But they did. They tried. And they were crushed. Their freedom was not something that a protest could cure - Andruil decimated a village for protesting. Their freedom was not something they could gain by running away - the gods could always travel faster than the people could hope to.

Their only viable salvation was to upturn the entire system through violent revolution. That can't be accomplished by isolated pockets of resistance. As shown above, those were all brutally crushed. It's just like Shartan. It requires the same centralization that Elgar'nan pulled on the Evanuris. It requires something to rally behind that has the force of will to withstand the constant assaults. It needs a "Dread Wolf."

[alpaca-clouds]

A Vile Tradition [Hurtcember Day 28 - One-Sided Lucanis/Viago]

Another story for @hurtcember. This one exploded just a bit into four chapters. xD

A Vile Tradition

Fandom: Dragon Age - The Veilguard Shipping: One-Sided Lucanis/Viago Genre: Thriller

Lucanis and Viago travel to Tevinter together to take out two mages. An easy job - at least Lucanis thinks that way - and maybe a chance to get closer to Viago.

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 03 - Tempest

(Content warning for slavery and violence)

It was the sound of the pouring rain that brought A'viloh back to his senses in the middle of the night.

Even down here, lying on the dirty old floorboards of the crew‘s quarters, he could hear the heavy raindrops drumming against the hull of the ship.

For some reason the slavers hadn’t locked him up again with the others as they usually did when they were done with torturing one of them. Vaguely he remembered how he had gotten here and immediately wished the rain hadn’t awoken him from his stupor.

He pressed his eyes shut hoping to go back to that hazy numbness, that somtimes graciously spirited his mind away when the monsters returned to fetch him from the cell. He didn’t want to be here and if he couldn’t change physically being here, he at least wanted to be elsewhere mentally.

He was so tired. So exhausted. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not here. Sometimes he thought he would never be able to sleep again at all.

In the distance he heard the creaking of a wooden door and with it not only footsteps appeared but also the noise of howling wind outside. Heavy boots made the floor tremble right beside his head and he prayed to remain unnoticed, as if a naked Miqo'te with long tangled fire-red hair sprawled all over the floor was something that could just turn invisible. Maybe if he prentended good enough though they would think he was dead and throw him overboard or at least leave him alone for a while.

The man who had entered the room however didn’t pay any attention to him. Nonetheless his angry deep voice startled A‘viloh as the man began to shout.

„Get yer asses o‘ hammock ‘n onto deck! The Seven Hells be breakin‘ loose up thar! The cap‘n wants all o‘ ye ugly bilge rats t‘ muck in!“

A few ill-humoured groans echoed through the room and after another impatient yell by the first mate the remaining crew members reluctantly crawled out of their hammocks and up the stairs leading to the deck of the ship.

One of them stumbled over A'viloh in his drunken half-sleep but luckily just got up again with a string of profanities on his lips but without really taking notice of him.

Then the Miqo'te was left alone in the dark stuffy room and finally dared to breath again. And as the thunder outside began to growl and everything turned silent apart from the muffled sound of the storm, he allowed himself to cry. For a long while his pained bitter sobs where all he could hear until with a deafening crash another lightning struck down from the sky and made the whole ship tremble.

Alarmed A'viloh shrieked and stared up to the ceiling with his arms raised in defense. This sound had been too loud, too close, and the yells on deck got louder and more nervous too. For a moment he just lay there and listened, trying to understand what was going on.

Something was wrong.

This is your chance!, a voice whispered in his head but he knew better than to listen to it. The first time he had tried to flee - or whatever you would call the only way to escape from a ship in the middle of the ocean - he had been caught quickly. Immediately they had noticed him running over the deck and before he could even get one leg over the railing they had grabbed him. Their punishment had been severe and the black and blue bruises all over his body still reminded him never to misbehave again.

But what if you all break out at once?, the voice whispered. Now they are distracted. There won’t be a better opportunity.

Weakly A'viloh tried to sit up but every single part of his body protested. He hadn’t eaten anything in days except for a few crumbs of moldy hard bread they had thrown to their captives. Neither did all the bruises covering his body help, nothing dangerous that wouldn’t heal but it hurt nonetheless. He remembered the captain ordering his crew not to damage his cargo beyond repair, after all he still planned to sell them all. And yet A'viloh was quite sure one of them had broken his tail earlier that evening and apart from this he also felt pretty much beyond repair too.

Suddenly something upstairs creaked dangerously, followed by a loud crash and more shouting. Whatever was going on there, seemed to be more than a small problem. Maybe no one would see him distracted by the turmoil…

With his eyes always fixed on the doorway he wrapped himself in the tattered rugs he had been given instead of his clothes and slowly crawled towards the stairs. He used the doorframe as support to get onto his feet but the ship swayed strongly and his legs felt so wobbly that he more stumbled up the staircase than walked. However when he saw the chaos unfolding outside he froze in his his steps.

One of the two masts had broken and fallen sideways, maybe struck by the lightning A'viloh had heard earlier, causing a great amount of damage to the ship. There was fire, bright and hot, greedily spreading itself over the deck of the ship and everyone seemed to run around without coordination, trying to put out the flames or pulling on some ropes, to at least keep the rest of the ship working. For a moment A'viloh just stared in disbelief before one realisation flared up clearly in his mind.

The ship is going to sink.

He whirled around in panic and ran down the first and also the second pair of stairs as fast as he could, down to the cargo hold of the ship. Weakly he threw himself against the heavy wooden door and rattled at the handle. A face appeared behind the little barred window. He couldn’t recognise it in the dark but the voice sounded familiar.

„A'viloh? You are back! What is going on? Are you alright?“

He didn’t answer the question and instead kept pulling on the doorhandle with as much energy as he still possessed. Of course it didn’t open.

„It is locked“, he croaked and noticed how thin and hoarse and miserable his own voice sounded to him. Disheartened he added, „I think the ship is going down…“

Wasn’t that what he had wished for? For these monsters to get their rightful punishment? Hadn’t he been willing to welcome death gratefully if it meant for him to get away from here?

Why did he still feel so terrified then?

„Do you know where the key is?“, the voice on the other side of the door asked. Nervously A'viloh searched the room in front of the door for any clues but could only shake his head.

„I think the guy with that ugly scar on his face has it.“, another voice called from inside the cell. „You have to get it, A‘viloh! You have to get us out of here!“

Horrified he stared into the darkness of the cell. He would never be able to steal the key from one of these men, especially not if he had to search for him in that chaos upstairs first. And what if they caught him?

„Please!“, one of the Ala Mhigan girls cried in fear but to A'viloh it felt like a slap through his face.

They were all going to die unless he did something. So he nodded and turned around, running up the stairs again. He at least had to try.

When he arrived on the deck wind and rain greeted him, but despite the rain the fire had already gotten worse. Hesitantly he stayed hidden in the half-dark of the doorframe and tried to find the pirate the woman had spoken about but with smoke and chaos everywhere this wasn’t an easy task.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity his eyes finally landed on a man at the front of the ship, pulling with all his power on a rope attached to the front mast. A'viloh thought he recognized his hair and his clothes even without seeing his face and indeed he spotted a key ring fixed at the side of his belt.

As quickly as he could he sneaked along the side of the ship, trying to stay unseen and avoid running into any of the pirates. But they had different things to worry about anyway…

Carefully he climbed the handful of steps leading up to the front deck, not that anyone would have heard the boards creak through the noise of this tempest.

There right in front of him the man stood with his back turned to him, focused on his work, and at his belt the wanted key ring.

Slowly he stretched out his hand.

Just a little more.

Then another loud crash split the air.

For a second A'viloh thought he had lost his hearing but then he heard the man in front of him scream.

Panicked he jumped backwards in fear but the scream hadn’t been directed towards him. Instead the man retreated while he stared up to the mast, which had apparently been struck by another lightning. Slowly the material cracked and the mast started to tilt. A'viloh could see the thoughts racing on the man‘s face, as he quickly dropped the rope and tried to run away. He wasn't fast enough though. In a slow but unstoppable movement the mast fell towards the back of the ship burying some of the crew beneath it. The weight of the impact tore a gaping hole into the deck and made huge chunks of broken wood fly in all directions.

For a moment most of the screams apart from the wails of wounded had gone silent. Then through the noise of thunder, wind and rain the ship started to groan. A deep, ominous sound that made A'viloh shudder.

Luckily he had remained unharmed by the accident and briefly he wondered if he could reach for the keys still at the belt of the man who lay buried beneath the front mast a few yalms away from him.

But then with another ugly crunching sound the hull of the ship, weakened by the fire and the damage, broke apart.

The whole vessel tilted dangerously sideways.

For A'viloh on his shaky legs it seemed impossible to remain standing.

With a yelp he fell to the floor and began to roll over the wet planks of the more and more tilting ship.

He tried to hold on to something but before he could find anything his back painfully hit the railing of the ship.

For the tiniest moment he was flying.

Then he hit the water.

Shocked he gasped for air but instead swallowed a mouthful of sea water. The ocean felt cold but the salty water burned. In his eyes, in the scratches all over his body, in his lungs. He had never learned how to swim, not that he would have had the power to do so now. Instead he helpless struggled against the waves and tried to reach for a piece of wood that swam in the water beside him.

But the slippery surface escaped his fingers and another wave of angry water hit him, almost pushing him under. Gasping and coughing he thrashed around, trying to stay afloat.

Then finally he got a grip on the broken piece of the ship’s hull. With the last bit of his energy he pulled his body onto the lifesaving piece of the wreckage, before he fainted.

[morsrattus]

Pentan Cultural Overview: Slavery

In Glorantha, slavery is widespread, with only a few cultures having no documented practice of it, though few cultures practice the worst and most abusive forms of slavery. The Pentans are no exception, though due to the rigors of travel, few tribes keep a significant number of slaves at any given time. The Law of Yu-Kargzant lays down a set of structures in which slavery exists. It is illegal to keep a horse as a slave, due to the agreements made between Gamari and Hyalor, but human slaves are legal. Other animals cannot be kept as slaves, but rather as livestock; practically speaking, this largely means that Pentans rarely think much about enslaving Hsunchen, whom they consider to be animals, but would not consider it unnatural for a Lo Fak yak-person to live with a tribe as part of their herds, only very strange.

Because of this divide between horse and man, a Pentan kept as a slave is considered to be cut off from their soul horse spiritually, even if their captors have taken the horse and added it to their herds. This is a terrible position to be in, one of great spiritual weakness and suffering.

Firstly, a slave can only have a single owner. Slaves belong to a specific family, and in that family specifically belong to the Grandparent. Shared ownership does not exist, though the Grandparent may delegate the duties of slave care to others.

Secondly, it is the duty of any slave to escape. Therefore, a slave may not be punished for doing so - but may be punished for attempting to escape and failing. This has little practical difference, but strongly reflects a culture of rebellious slaves.

Thirdly, it is permissible only to enslave those who are captured in battle. Other slaves may be purchased from outsiders, but Pentan law states that only those who accept the risk of death and killing in battle may suffer enslavement. Slavery is never an inherited status in Pent, either.

Fourthly, there must be a route to freedom for all slaves. . All slaves may be freed through the rites of adoption. A slave may go to the Grandparent that owns them and offer up their soul and life, forsaking their old name and family as well as severing themselves from their soul horse forever. If the Grandparent accepts this offer, the slave is freed and initiated as a new member of the family, taking on a new name and finding a new soul horse. However, these rites are not easy and are often painful.

Male slaves who undergo the rites of adoption must be gelded, suffering a ritual destruction of their masculinity accompanied by intense physical pain and weakening of male magic. (Even male slaves who do not have a penis suffer this pain - it is a requirement of Gor Gorma's gelding rituals.) Female slaves who undergo the rites of adoption must become mothers, either through adoption of a child or by the normal means, and those who choose to adopt for any reason are still put through the pains of childbirth as a result of the ritual. Cloud people may choose which of these paths to go through, but it will be painful regardless.

There are strict laws on the treatment of slaves. A slave can be beaten if they commit a crime, but only disobedience of a direct order or failure to escape are reason to beat a slave who has not committed a normal crime. A slave must be given food, housing and care as appropriate to any Pentan. A slave who is abused outside the bounds of the law may sue for freedom, and must be given a horse and the option to join any family in the tribe that will have them or leave for their old kin as they choose. A slave who becomes pregnant by any means is automatically freed, and if not through the rites of adoption, are given the same choice of freedom as any other abused slave.

Slaves may also be ransomed, which has legally evolved into the basis for sale and purchase of slaves. Under Pentan law, a slave who is sold is technically being ransomed by their new owner, who may choose to free them or not as normal. A tribe may deny the option to ransom by outsiders, but a slave's own family must be allowed to ransom them. The price of a ransom is variable based on the slave's age and health, but cannot be made outside the bounds set by the law. Typically, a slave of up to 40 years old with no major injuries is worth goods equivalent to five horses.

All of these laws apply to slaves regardless of their origins. An outsider who is kept as a slave is given all of the same protections and options - and no extra ones, often making it very difficult for them to return home if they are freed for any reason.

In practice, Pentans tend to keep few slaves because traveling with them is difficult. A Pentan slave given access to horses is much more likely to escape, while outsiders often are unable to ride in the first place. This greatly slows down the travel time of any group containing a large number of slaves. Pure Horse tribes tend to keep more slaves, on average, than other tribes, relying on them to tend to gardens of food crops that they are not permitted to work themselves.

Even among the Pure Horses, large groups of slaves are typically only found in trade caravans. The slave trade is extensive in both the Lunar Empire and Kralorela, and some groups of Pentans make a significant amount of money dealing in slaves to both of these neighbors, or moving slaves between them. They may even raid Half-Man villages for the purpose of taking warriors captive for sale as slaves. Bandit groups may compound their lawbreaking by taking anyone captive for sale as a slave, though they must be careful only to deal with outsiders when selling people who are clearly illegal slaves under Pentan law.

It should be noted that while it is not considered slavery, it is not rare for a tribe to keep a village of Half Men in their territory as tributaries, demanding a tribute of crops, goods, or labor in exchange for not being raided by the tribe and being protected from bandits and other tribes.

It should also be noted: while life as a Pentan slave is not the worst kind of slavery in the world, it is still a terrible thing. Pentans consider slavery a pitiable status, if one preferable to death. This is why the law says it is every slave's duty to seek freedom, whether by escape or another method, and any Pentan kept as a slave will be actively seeking a way to end their slavery.

[squarebracket-trickster]

Hi, and happy blorbo blursday! (as usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own). Kind of a specific question, but imagine your OC's are suddenly teleported into our world. How would they react? What would make them the most surprised/scared? Would they adapt or try to go back?

If your OC's already live in this world, then imagine they are teleported into an high fantasy type of universe!

Hi morbo, thanks for the ask!!

hmmm... which OCs... which OCs...

you know what, I'm gonna do Sarius this time (aka. Sylah and Darius).

Oh, I should add a Content Warning for discussion of slavery and implied sexual slavery, and brief mentions of racism and sexism.

Sylah and Darius would both be ecstatic to be teleported to our world, a timeline where Sylah's ancestors (humanoids genetically engineered to be "perfect" slaves) have not been created. Everyone who sees Sylah would just assume she is a very conventionally attractive human wearing a nice perfume. She could move about freely, without needing to prove she had permission from an enslaver, and people would assume she and Darius were a couple instead of them thinking Darius was her "master". The kind of discrimination Sylah endures in her world would not exist in ours. To us, she'd just be a pretty "white" girl with an accent.

I put "white" in quotes because "whiteness" as a privileged racial category also exists in Sylah's world, but even though Sylah would be "white" in our world, her distinct set of just-slightly-too-perfect physical features would immediately distinguish her as being something other than "a white human" to others in her world. The category that Sylah is there does not exist for us on Earth. But she does not have access to the white privilege that humans in her world do. In her world she is not even considered human. Sylah is not meant to be analogous to POC in our world; her ancestors were created in a lab in the far future. She is more a commentary on White patriarchal sexual fantasies than anything else.

They wouldn't stay forever. They'd want to get back to their families and to the rebellion they are part of back in their world, but they might put off going back for a few months: a nice vacation.

People might make comments on Darius's weird eye colour. He has blue eyes, but a much darker, rich royal blue than what most blue eyes on Earth look like. But Darius wouldn't mind.

[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!!

[silmalope]

Some of the rough sketches I’ve made so far for the SWG March challenge. Since I don’t have time to finish them properly, I thought I’d share in one big batch :)

[in order: Finrod reflects on the loss of his scars after returning from the Halls; Ainulindalë; Túor as a thrall in Hithlum; Melian mourning Thingol.]

[the-delightful-temptation]

"I couldn't agree more with that idea. Let me buy women without all that drama that comes with it."

◇◇◇ "Modern marriges are a scam from l the government to keep tabs on y'all while fucking with your taxes, only made worse by how capitalism and the media has turned the whole aspect of a wedding into a complete luxury item."

◇◇◇ " lets go back to trading goats for women."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

[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).

[notmarthagaryson]

*Martha chose to sit on the chair leaving the couch empty for GT to sit in*

it’s not that interesting really

I was just on a… “mission” yeah you can call it that anyway I was on a mission in some kind of hell-don’t really remember which one-and on my way back home I saw Lyri

who was literally about to bleed to death, she was-as most demons were in that place-wearing ripped old clothes I didn’t think much of it at the time-but maybe I should have-and helped her but to do that I had to break the chains the were on her-and boy were those a lot of chains-and that’s it

@graffiti-translator I am NEVER listening to you again!

I drink that potion and I’m starting to hear voices!

[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…

[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.