#like they need to both exist and feed into each others designs

[skunkes]

we need to get the economy back to allowing wealthy art patrons bc i just know i could make killer oc designs for people if i had several years to refine and simplify them instead of just like. A week

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

god i feel rough (failing delusionship) so let's do a quick little reaction to giving the 141 little gifts

you and soap regularly sit around and watch your favorite movies. gives you guys something extra to talk about while out in the field. most of them military related like American sniper or some really stupid comedies like the Hangover. A long time favorite of both of yours is the Office, though. So when you're on leave and see one of those stupid Dunder Mifflin keychains, you don't even think twice about getting it for him. When you're back and give it to him, Johnny gets real quiet and puts it on his keys. Gives you a little kiss to your temple and turns on one of your favorite episodes. Keeps you in his arms for awhile after that, platonically of course, bonnie.

ghost and you don't really talk much. you're both together a lot though, existing in each other's orbit. he does paperwork, cleans his guns, stitches up a new mask, whatever. you work on a new hobby, watch YouTube, sleep, or yap into the void. nevertheless, you two are very close. imagine simon's surprise one day as you two sit, your back against his shoulder, as you finish up a friendship bracelet for him. intricate little heart design. you hold it out to him in offering with a little smile, a bit too cautious for his taste. holds his wrist out, lets you put it on him. doesn't say much, but notices you made yourself a matching one. takes it, puts it on your wrist, and brings it to where his mouth is under his mask. little peck. best gift he's ever gotten, birdie. goes back to his work, but it becomes his fidget toy. inspects your wrist when he sees you without yours, brows furrowed. follows you around like a little lost puppy until you confirm that yes, simon, everything's fine.

gaz is baby. he loves spending time with you around base. your room is next to his, making it is easy for you two to meet up and have a nice time. however, his time in the military has made him harder and more forgetful to civilian celebrations and traditions. so when you two are sitting on night watch and you pull out a little cake with happy birthday gaz written on it, he remembers fond memories of a time before. loves you for bringing good memories to his forefront. shares with you, feeding you with his fork. pinkies linked as you watch the sunrise.

gruff old man price won't accept much. he's got a lot on his plate, doesn't need much else going on around him. however, when his favorite little sergeant stops by with a little treat and a cigar for him, he's gooey. all pleasant smiles, wonderful manners, asking about your day. hides his emotions when you mention a pesky little flea on another squad has been bothering you. don't worry, darling, you don't know it but he'll take care of it (if one of his boys doesn't first).

they'd be jealous of eachothers attention on you if they didn't feel the exact same way. pretty little thing, only for them.

[10underoot2]

I have a headcanon of BaekHong being this power couple even as they raise their daughter.

They're very hands on. The nanny, Mrs.Jang, is always available but she feels like it's the easiest gig she ever got. She's seen other rich families just birthing the child and giving it to the nanny to look after. They only feed or play with it when convenient but not Mr. Baek and Mrs.Baek. Soobin is the light of their existance. They both wouldn't be at peace until they saw her once back from work. Mrs.Baek would only go for a few hours, most of the time taking Soobin and the nanny with her. She never would have believed someone like Ms.Hong would find a way to conduct her meetings but still cradle her inconsolable child in her office. She had never imagined Mr. Baek would play with her in his office plain for all to see. She also hadn't imagined either of the parents' amusement when the 6 month old puked on designer bags and clothes. She had seen children resented and glared at for that. But not this rich couple. They loved their child like their life depended on it. Even when tired, overworked, frustrated they made time for their daughter always. Mrs.Jang often felt like the last resort. Moments when even she could see that the strain of work and life could no longer render them available to care for their child she took over for them. But even then these moments were scarce. She had heard months into her employment that the couple was actually against hiring her but had only agreed due to incessant requests of the child's maternal grandmother.

So when she was informed that the couple was throwing a big networking party for the Queens department store, she was sure this was her moment to shine. Because what rich couple feeds, changes, plays or cares about their child in the presence of 400+ highly influential people. Even if they both wanted to they wouldn't find the time.

But come day of the event, Haein was all dolled up looking magnificent beside Mr. Baek as they both laughed and dressed up their 6 month old baby. During the party, Soobin went from welcoming guests in her Armani clad suit father's arms. To discussing complex legal matters and networking with him still viewing the world from the high vantage point her father's height afforded her. Smiles representative of only pure joy, adored Hyunwoo and Hae-in's face each time they talked, interacted or received a smile from Baby Soobin.

At long last Soobin urged her father to put her to sleep in his arms where he kept her for half an hour before parting with her achingly in Mrs.Jang's care. When she woke up hours later fussing, he was there before the nanny could try to appease her. She had seen him excuse himself as soon as politely possible as Soobin continued to cry. He stood there, fully dressed trying to appease her a while before he went to his wife who was deep in conversation trying to recruit brands for her store. Mrs. Jang knew it was an important event for Mrs. Baek, so she expects not to see her all night near Soobin. From what she had heard (but never seen) about the couple's rocky relationship she thought this would be it. She would now see them fight as he dared approach her during such important talks.

But for Haein, seeing her husband walk towards her with their adorable daughter in his hands was a sight in and of itself. Her eyes were already on them. Hyunwoo politely greets everyone and leans in close to her to say: 'I've tried everything I could. I think she needs you.' She pauses her conversation on the spot. Says her apologies and moves inside to care for her daughter. Hyunwoo takes up the conversation and sells the store for her until she comes back with a happy Soobin in her arms for the crowd to coo at. Among the many photos the photographer had taken of the night their favourite remains of Soobin absolutely overjoyed to see her father as her mother mirrors both of their joy at being able to witness the moment.

Little do the happy family know there's gossip - and a lot of it at that. There's gossip on the mighty lawyer Hyunwoo being a wuss who's not in control of the house. On Hyunwoo not doing his part as a father 'So what if he has a pretty face, he should be slaving away taking care of his daughter why give her to the mother when things get difficult?' On Haein for being duped by his charms. On Haein for holding the baby wrong. For growing soft, for being dumb enough to ignore big shot CEOs because a human with a brain not even fully developed was crying.

No one sees the couple take respite in caring for their adorable daughter. Even when Soobin cries the shrillest, it makes Hyun woo just pick up another toy and Haein make the funniest face she can think of to appease her. They know the pain of the loss of a child. They cannot fathom not doing everything in their power to love this gift of theirs. No matter what she does she has both of them wrapped around her fingers. Because they're the luckiest to have her and call themselves her parents. It feels like a miracle each day and they'd be damned if they let a stupid department store take that away from them. So what if they lost a contract or two, the extra wons wouldn't fill up their candy jar. After all, all the money they had couldn't bring back their baby either.

[teoceearts]

teoceearts' $30 (USD) Summer Fakemon Flash Sale

Until Saturday, August 31st, 11:59PM MST, I'm offering fakemon commissions! If you have a little guy you'd like someone else to draw, I'm willing to be that someone else. Work is light at the moment and I unfortunately require money to pay for things that I need in order to live.

Some examples below!

DM here or email at teoceearts@gmail.com to discuss commission details and payment information. Credit teocee94/teoceearts when reposting your finished piece to other platforms.

Rules below the cut:

Price is non-negotiable per 'mon, and pays for a transparent, full-color, unshaded image file featuring both the standard and shiny variants that you as the commissioner can use and edit non-commercially as you see fit, including as a visual reference with which to commission other artists. This image file will be formatted similarly to the Mokira splash sheet above, but as a transparent image.

Each additional evolutionary stage, alternative form, or pose included in the commission will cost an additional $30. - Gender differences will be either free or an additional $10 pending distinction and complexity; Pikachu, Bidoof, or Sneasel would be free of charge, while Unfeazant, Meowstic, or Indeedee would cost extra.

I am not offering new or revamped forms of existing, official Pokemon, including convergent/regional fan-designs or special forms like Megas! The design must be unofficial; either your own original work or that of another artist not affiliated with GameFreak, Nintendo, or The Pokemon Company and their design teams. If the design is not your own, credit the original designer so that I may tag them and/or link to their original design in the description.

Some kind of visual reference and a loose lore rundown of your concept are required. If all you have is a crumpled notebook-paper stick-figure sketch and a slapdash Dex entry, I'll work with it. I am willing to redraw AI-generated fakemon if you have no other visual reference of any kind, but I ask that you do not prompt new generations specifically for your commission.

I am not helping conceptualize new fakemon whole-cloth, which is beyond the scope of this offer. I reserve the right to creative liberties in interpreting your design. However, all proposed changes will be discussed with the commissioner before finalizing the piece.

You are not permitted to profit off of my artwork, edited or otherwise, without my explicit consent. This includes AI seeding. Do not feed my work into an algorithmic generative machine. Do not produce stickers, pins, or other merchandise of my work for the purpose of sale. Production for personal use is a different story which we can discuss, and licensing for sale is beyond the scope of this particular offer.

[daily-singularity]

Hello. I am here to ask you about their paralells and how insane they make you. Pretty please... you're the only one feeding us the good food...

Going insane. white knuckling my pen and paper. I will do my best to make this coherent, apologies in advance if its a mess!!

In the simplest terms both Gabriel and Hux are carbon copy assembly line units created by Huxlee industries for the purpose of colonizing planets and prolonging the human race.

Gabriel is a tool just as much as the Huxlee units are.

"Each individual was manufactured for a different societal function... The idea was to create a functional society that would operate flawlessly." - Gabriel Soma BIO

"Unlike human clones, the HUX-A7 required no food, no water, no sleep, and no life support system. It was created specifically for outer space exploration and the construction of colonization hubs." - HUX-A7-13 BIO

Gabriel was specifically designed by Huxlee for planet colonization. Outside of his time on Dvarka, I gather that Gabriel was in a permanent deep sleep/cryostatis. All of his memories of his family and childhood are fabrications- he has no real life or directives or experiences outside of his work on Dvarka.

---

Both were under the threat of termination, or reprogramming should they fall out of line.

"Dmitri’s not trying to help… he’s trying to get me to stop asking questions. What does he know? What’s he hiding?" - Tome 16, Memory 2998 (Gabriel Soma)

"It remembers its objective. It must assist the crew in terraforming Dvarka. Failure to do so will result in termination."- Tome 16, Memory 2665 (Hux-a7-13)

When Gabriel first starts noticing discrepancies in his memories, his crew's medic writes off his issues as "problems that dont exist", and gives him a drug that fogs up his senses. Its a clear attempt to force him back into subservience, a message of "Stop digging or else".

We're never able to find out what would happen to Gabriel if it became known that he found out about the fact hes a clone, but I gather he would be removed from the project. Terminated so he wouldn't spread panic.

--

After Gabriel finds out about the fact he's a clone, it's a lot harder to get more direct info on his mentality, since thats where his Memory archives end.

Neither of them have much experience with free will.

Due to the fact that both Gabriel and Hux were taken by the entity near immediately after learning they were a clone/gained sentience, it isnt much of a stretch to say that neither of them have experience with a sense of individuality.

Gabriel learns that his entire life has been a fabricated lie and then is immeidately shoved into a killing game. He doesn't really get that chance to come to terms with who and what he is before having to fight for his life.

Hux on the other hand, had more time to digest his new worldview. He was able to start forming his own desires and wants even if they were as simple as "Kill the inferior human worms who created me", or abstract as wanting to "the remake the universe in my image over infinate lifetimes"- whatever the fuck that means Hux. Its really unfortunate that he barely begins to form these desires before theyre all stripped away from him and he is once again forced into subservience.

---

I was gonna put like idk an insightful little footnote here, but i spent absolutely way to long writing this post. Anyways. Gabriel and hux are both tools struggling with a sense of self while being forced to kill or be killed.

Also. can Behavior please fucking explain to me why Gabriel was waxing poetic about the beauty and godliness of the machine that he watched slowly kill his entire crew, like goddamn ogling that machine, then he exploded it. and then like. went "ok damn still godlike."

I just wanna talk with whoever wrote this please. what was. what does this mean. i need to know.

"It had fabricated a new body for itself. Part flesh. Part silicon. Part human. Part machine. Massive. Powerful. Beautiful and majestic like—

An ancient God."

"Gabe raced across the meadow and into the forest. When he looked back, he saw the HUX emerge from the flames and smoke. Burning. Melting. Shrieking. Deformed. Terrible and wrathful like—

An ancient God"

[lacefuneral]

ok i've seen some posts about the tumblr alternative cohost but none that were actually helpful so!

(disclaimer: i am very new to this website. users who have been there longer can and should chime in with additions and/or corrections)

Cohost Introduction Post

What is cohost?

Cohost is a fledgling website that is essentially a tumblr clone, but with its own culture and site-specific features. It is also very much a work in progress. You are encouraged to talk in the cohost forum to suggest changes for devs, report bugs, and upvote other people's suggestions. This website WILL grow and change over time. And as such, I do not know if/when the information I share here will be outdated. Edit: To answer an ask I received, anyone can join cohost without an invite. It used to be invite-only. It is not this way anymore.

Is "adult content" allowed there?

Yes. Cohost is not on the app store, meaning that it is not subject to Apple's specifications. You can post illustrations, writing, and photographs (cohost does not support any video formats at this time, just gifs). Cohost has an elaborate filtering and trigger warning system (moreso than tumblr), and you can disable adult content for your entire account or for individual tags. I actually don't engage with the adult content at all on there. Visual CSEM (both real and fictional) is specifically forbidden (although frankly I think the guidelines could be stricter wrt written content. Still, does seem to handle this better than AO3 does, going as far to say that written content about real minors is forbidden.)

How are minors protected?

The minimum age to join cohost is 16, and requires proof of parental permission to join. Users who are under 18 are automatically age-gated and cannot view adult content.

If cohost isn't on the app store, how is it used?

You can, of course, use cohost on a computer, but it is designed with mobile in mind. Opening the website on any IOS browser, clicking "share", and then "add to home screen" will install an app for you to use. The same can be done on an android. There is a guide here.

How does cohost work?

First, you create an account. Then you wait for approximately two days (read: weekdays) for the account to be activated. This is done to prevent spam bots. In the meantime, edit your profile. List some interests, your pronouns, your other social media links. Give yourself an icon. Note: icon and banner file sizes are small. You may need to shrink and compress images.

After the two days are up, make your first post! Write a basic introduction (with what you feel comfortable you feel sharing) and list some interests you like, maybe some hobbies, media, etc. And then tag this post with "#welcome to cohost". This will let existing members know that someone new has joined, and they may initiate conversation and/or follow you.

Next, go to the search and type in "The Cohost Global Feed" and click on the tag. Bookmark this tag. This is essentially one giant community space where you can find random users. (There is currently some discourse on the website as to whether this tag existing is a "bad thing" or not because "cohost isn't supposed to have a global tag". Just ignore that lol). Next, go back to search and type in things you like. TV shows, maybe. Video games. Music. Anything. See if people have posted in the tags. Follow them. Comment on their stuff. Click "like" to bookmark the post if you want to.

Most crucially, make sure that you bookmark the actual tag so you can look in that tag again later without having to manually type it each and every time. Also, you get a feed called "bookmarked tags" which allows you to scroll through all of them at once, which replaces the "for you" feature other websites have.

You can "share" a post (called "rebug" in user slang) which serves the same purpose as a reblog on tumblr. In a rebug, you can add your own tags or comment in the body of the post. Cohost users do not talk in tags as much as tumblr users - they tend to prefer to speak in the body of a rebug, or in the comment section (replies). At this time, you cannot view all reblogs. But you can view all comments in the comment section. Any post that is rebugged will preserve the tags of the OP, with any additional tags added being attributed to you. Rebugs are named after the website mascot Eggbug, a purple bee-like insect.

Posts are called "chosts" - and shitposting is called "shitchosting." Two examples of global shitposting tags are "#css crimes" - which is when a person does goofy things with the HTML/CSS editor to make colorful text, fake chat windows, and such - and "#shitchosting" which is a general shitposting tag. I've also seen people use tags like "#random".

If a post makes you laugh, check out the OP's profile. See if they post frequently, and if you have any common interests. If you realize you want to block or mute someone instead, you can.

You can send asks just like on tumblr, but your inbox must be manually opened first. So remember to do that.

How do I look at my own blog?

This is one of my gripes about the UI. You would think, intuitively, you would click here (at the top of the screen). But you would be wrong!

It is ACTUALLY under the sidebar menu, called "Profile." And I'm not the only one to to complain about this. (To get back to your dashboard, by the way, you click on the cohost logo.)

Are there sideblogs?

Yes! Each sidepage (sideblog) has its OWN set of likes AND followed pages (blogs). This allows you to easily switch between multiple sets of dashboards. A lot of users use this to have a SFW dashboard and an adult content dashboard. But it works like tumblr, too. You can have a side page/dashboard for whatever you'd like. Maybe one of your pages is for programming. Maybe another is for photography. You switch between your pages by clicking the arrow next to your icon/username at the top of the screen. ("Ohhhhh.... THAT'S what that's for.")

What's the userbase on there like?

Mostly programmers. Trans people. Furry artists. Plural systems. Furry trans plural programmers. Certainly a lot of shitposters. The website is trans-run and, as such, has zero tolerance for TERFs. Everyone seems pretty friendly from what I can tell. And there's very much a culture of "follow someone randomly based on their vibes" that doesn't happen as much on tumblr. Tumblr is more like "I really like this TV show, I'm going to follow 40 blogs about just this interest." Because the cohost community is so much smaller, there is a lot less content overall, especially fandom content. You can't follow 40 fandom pages because your fandom tag has a total of 3 posts, all made by one person approximately a year ago (well. for me anyway).

Cohost, then, actually has much more in common with real-life socialization. You seek out people with interests that may be very different from your own, and to find a common interest is very exciting! Unlike tumblr, you are encouraged to tag as much as possible. This allows your posts to be seen, to find common interests. And, of course, don't forget to look in "#Welcome To Cohost" too! You may find some new friends there.

What file formats can I post in?

Currently, I am aware of basic image formats working (like jpeg, png) animated gifs, and mp3s. You currently cannot upload videos to cohost. I believe the reason is not related to server costs, but rather as a way to curb the uploading of copyrighted content.

How does cohost make money?

There are no ads, and yet, as far as I am aware, cohost is operating comfortably. There is, however, an entirely optional "cohost plus" that is $5 USD a month. Currently, there are a few perks, but not enough to convince me.

What if I think something about cohost should change?

Cohost has a forum where users can submit ideas for features and other users can discuss/upvote those ideas.

Here is a list of posts made for newcomers to read:

[emmg]

Did you write that Elgar’nan/Lavellan thing yet? Asking for a friend 👀 (the friend is me) and if not fully can you share a wip for the starving masses? I may or may not have reread pretty bait several times oops

Yeah, let's not talk or mention my earlier writing lol. Doesn’t exist. Never happened. That’s all ancient history, like some cursed artifact I’m this close to chucking into a digital volcano. One day, I’m just gonna snap, delete the whole lot off ao3, and purge my soul of the cringe that is my old writing. The pre-2023 stuff? Especially cursed. It’s a miracle I haven’t rage-quit and wiped it from the face of the earth yet.

But as far this particular thing is concerned—not finished I'm afraid and I'm not entirely sure when it will be since I'm still trying to piece together the plot I want it to have. If you want to brainstorm with me, be my guest and slide into my dms. Rn I'm just trying to figure out a reason for keeping up the veil with Solas trapped inside because I'm not killing the egg lol

But yeah sure, here's an excerpt that features him and a very angry Ellana below the cut lol

She will carve a path through every Venatori fool enough to fall under his spell. She’ll slit one’s throat, string another up like a butchered animal, disembowel the next—and when she reaches Elgar'nan, she’ll fucking stab him. She’ll carve him into ribbons, strip him bare, stretch every piece of his skin in the sun to dry. She’ll keep him alive, make him watch, force him to witness as she devours him piece by piece, the way the Veil now feasts on Solas. 

She will be rage unbound. She will be a blood-soaked revolution. 

He may have pulled the sun from the heavens in Dalish legends, may have been the first light of creation itself, but she will shatter him. She will break his bones, drink his blood, make him feel the hollow ache of ten years of endless, aching want. Ten years spent searching, only to find Solas, touch him, and watch the Fade claim him once more. Watch him wither, watch him fracture, watch lives fall around him like leaves. Ten years, ten years— 

"Perhaps," Emmrich ventures, wringing his hands, glancing between them, "Magister Pavus and I should speak to the Evanuris alone. You need rest." 

She knows what he truly means. Someone ought to separate Dorian and Inquisitor Lavellan—she’d overheard him murmuring it to Harding before they set out. And he’s not wrong. They’re poison to each other like this, feeding off each other’s anger, each other’s sorrow, locked in a spiral that can only lead to ruin.

But she doesn’t care. And Dorian doesn’t care either. They don’t even glance at each other as they stride toward that garish table, its every detail designed to dazzle and offend, where Elgar'nan lounges like a king, already assuming his victory. Behind him looms Ghilan'nain, a monstrous shadow of her own making. Her very presence chills the air; she’s a nightmare incarnate, Blight oozing from her wounds, staining her blackened eyes, twisting her form into something no longer natural. Just seeing her is enough to freeze the blood. A true horror. 

"You, I know of," Elgar'nan says, his voice slow and serpentine, each syllable unfurling as he points a jewel-encrusted finger toward her. "The Inquisitor, they call you. Child of my children, lover of Fen'Harel." 

His gaze drifts to Dorian. "You, however, remain a mystery, an unfamiliar face amidst this tangled web, though you do carry the stench of this land deep in your bones." 

Finally, he turns to Emmrich. "And you—I’ve seen you trailing behind the wolf's little disciple. Both of them, wandering the Fade now, yes?" he asks, feigning innocence, every word dripping with the sickly-sweet pleasure of a man who already knows every detail, who has woven the strings and now watches them dance. 

"Sit," Elgar'nan says, sweeping his hand in a grand, careless gesture. "Be my guests." 

Reluctantly, she does. Wine stands between them—a full carafe, glasses set out in some mockery of hospitality. She doesn’t hesitate. She pours a glass for herself, another for Dorian. They both drink, empty their glasses, and drink again, as Emmrich sighs, and Elgar'nan watches, one eyebrow arched, amused but silent. 

The first hazy edge of inebriation tugs at her, and she clears her throat. 

"Well then," Emmrich begins, doing his best to sound diplomatic. "We are, of course, very grateful that you have not torn down the Veil. Naturally, we must discuss what your… ahem… arrival means for Thedas as a whole. I hope you understand that our reality diverges from yours, and while I sympathize with your loss of—" 

Elgar'nan raises a hand, wincing, cutting through Emmrich’s stream of words. "It will come down," he snaps, dismissive. "Once it finishes draining the Dread Wolf. Make no mistake, mage." 

Ghilan'nain’s tendrils twist and coil around the back of Elgar’nan’s throne like snakes, furling and unfurling in an eerie, silent rhythm. Her head tilts, but she doesn’t speak. 

"And who do you belong to?" Elgar'nan asks, his gaze gliding over her. "I see no markings on your face. Whose sigil did you wear?" He gestures idly, as if this were merely a tiresome ritual. "A simple formality before we proceed. You see, in my time, we respected the boundaries of one another’s possessions. ‘Meddle not, take not’—a matter of decorum," he finishes with a careless shrug, as if such notions were etched into the very fabric of existence and she, too dumb, has somehow forgotten them. 

To him, she is nothing more than property unclaimed, an object waiting to be sorted into its proper place. 

"Not yours," she snaps, feeling for the first time like the dog he’s trying to make her. "Your vallaslin was too damn ugly. No one wanted that marring their skin." 

She watches Dorian lean back, cross his legs, and swirl his wine with a disconcerting casualness. "Ellana," he says, his tone light, far too light. "Your people hail from the Dales, do they not?" 

"Many elves do," she replies. 

"Splendid," Dorian says, a wry smile creeping onto his face. "Perhaps we could extend these two," he gestures grandly toward Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, "a polite invitation to fuck right off back there. Tevinter has enough tyrants as it is." 

She hums, considering. "I was thinking somewhere a bit more permanent myself." 

"Oh? Do enlighten me." 

"Into the fucking abyss," she says with a shit-eating grin. 

Elgar'nan’s gaze sharpens, the amusement fading. "You are the first of your kind to speak to your creators in such a manner," he remarks, coldly. "It is unbecoming." 

She shrugs, rolling one shoulder. "Unfortunately, I have no more fucks left to give," she says. "What about you, Dorian?" 

Dorian makes a grand show of it, looking around as if he might find some hidden reserve of care—patting himself down, peering into his pockets, even reaching into the folds of his vest. He lets out a theatrical sigh, throwing up his hands. "Alas, I seem to be freshly out as well," he laments. "A tragedy, really." 

She’s hated before. She’s hated many people in her life—mostly because hate comes easily to her. Righteousness was never her compass, just a habit formed by the good intentions of others pulling her toward the right choice. Her instinct was always for the simple path, the selfish one. But this hatred, the hatred she feels for Elgar’nan, is different. It’s new, raw, pulsing. She stares at him as he lounges there, head resting on a closed fist, his gilded, horned crown catching the light, the brightness almost blinding her, tangling with the gray of his hair. She’s glad he’s sitting—if he stood, she wouldn’t be able to reach that face, ageless and ancient, to claw it off. 

She slams her glass against the edge of the table, shattering it with a sharp crack. Her hand closes around the jagged shard, fingers gripping tight. She doesn’t care—she lunges across the table, every fiber of her body coiled and ready, her focus narrowed to a single, blinding point. 

Ten years. Ten years she’s played the diplomat, the peacekeeper, the politician. Ten years of forced smiles, of patience, all to find Solas. At first, she wondered if he would even want her when she found him, but that worry faded. Her desire didn’t matter—she didn’t have any right to his want. She’d made peace with the idea that she’d be alone even if she found him. But she wanted to speak with him, to hold his hand just once more, maybe embrace him. Even if he walked away after, she would have that, she would have closure. 

Ten years. Ten years for fucking nothing. 

She makes it all the way to his throat before anyone moves, her grip so tight on the shard that her hand is slick with blood—hers, his, she can't tell, and she doesn't care. His collar is high, stiff, his armored robes a fortress of pomp and arrogance, but she jabs the glass forward anyway, feeling it scrape as she hunts for bare skin. Voices shout behind her, someone catches her ankle— 

Then her face is slammed against the table. 

Dazed, she catches a glimpse of his wrist—Elgar'nan’s wrist—before a hand grips the back of her neck, smashing her head down again into the wood. 

"A mutt and his bitch, snarling and snapping," he hisses as he grinds her face against the table’s surface. "Where is your civility, Inquisitor? Where is your respect?" His grip tightens, fury leaking into his voice, his breath hot against her ear. "For all his faults, let me tell you this—Fen'Harel knew how to wield his wrath. He was always precise, always ceremonious."

He lifts her just to slam her down again, harder, his voice coiling with rage. Wine splashes over, the carafe cracks, its fragrance mingling with blood in the air. "The wolf bared his teeth only when cornered," he spits, voice cutting, disdain smoldering beneath each syllable. "His tongue was honeyed, his words weapons, chosen to tear and gut as sharply as any blade." He presses down on her harder. "A mastery you, it appears, utterly lack." 

She knows this is madness. She knows it’s reckless, short-sighted, utterly stupid. She knows Solas had no choice but to trap these monsters in the Fade—it was all he could do, all anyone could do. She knows Elgar’nan bleeds Blight, that the poison is woven into him, that he’s made of something ancient and wrong, something that defies names. 

She knows it, feels it like iron shackles around her chest. And yet none of it matters. Not here, not now. Somehow, this shard of glass in her bare hand—not the one that once held the Anchor, now made of brass and runes, but her flesh and blood hand—feels like the only weapon she’ll ever need, the one that will end him. 

She sees his other hand, the one not holding her by the neck, and with a wild thrust she drives the glass through it. Blood splatters across the table, black and thick, seeping into the wood. He snarls, some foul curse in that ancient, broken language, and his grip falters, just for a moment. 

Then a pair of arms is around her, dragging her back. It's Dorian, pulling her out of the reach of Elgar’nan’s claws. He’s beside her, staff flashing, blocking one of Ghilan’nain’s writhing tendrils, lightning crackling at its tip. He’s shouting, furious, words spilling out rough and raw, not at her, but at them. If anything, she realizes, he’s spurring her on, his voice cutting through the red haze of her rage. 

“…the barest taste of what you deserve!” he’s sneering. “Come a bit closer, why don’t you? You’ve got a few too many limbs for my liking, you eldritch monstrosity.” 

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck

Just My Luck

Summary: The lands are ruled by ruthless gods of various levels of power. Humanity is only a means to an end for their endless desires, if they happen to gain their attention. Many lay low, do what they can to appease the gods and try to live their lives out, as best they can, given the circumstances. Wriothesley is one such mortal. Having committed a great crime as a young boy, he’s constantly fleeing from his past. Little did he know; however, his constant misfortunes lead to his destiny, and it is most certainly not what he was expecting.

Recommendations: None, this is a purely AU work, so you’re good to go, reader.

Warnings: 18+ content, ya’ll. We’re going to get a little spicy here. Not my usual sort of Wriolette content. Neuv is going to be a little dark and demanding in this one, so if that sort of content (I’d guess you’d say it’s very close to yandere), then this isn’t for you. Religious hints/themes are also present in this. Consent really doesn’t exist here. I have been thinking of this sort of god x human trope for a while now, and I just needed to get it out of my brain. So, I guess this is a little self-indulgent work that I hope others out there will appreciate as well? Also, it’s putting me in a mental headspace to make a little follow-up chapter to Coming Home, since it’s looking like ya’ll are wanting that, hehe.

Also, one more warning. This is me trying to write a SHORT story and not have this as a full-blown novel. However, if this does receive a lot of love, I will 100% rewrite this to be a multi-chaptered work. This is me practicing self-restraint and tldr make a short story, you freaking gremlin sorta thing. OH, also, this isn’t beta-read, but will 100% be if this makes it to being AO3-post worthy.

AN: I AM TOO LAZY TO UPDATE MY WARNINGS BUT I MESSED UP AND THIS IS SO LONG BUT ENJOY IT AND IF YOU WANT AN EVEN LONGER VERSION WITH MORE LORE AND ACTION LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS PLZ AND I WILL POST ON AO3 I FAILED KEEPING THIS SHORT, I AM SOOOORRRY

Wriothesley grunted as he was pushed forward, his hands bound behind his back by a golden metallic rope that refused to give way, even in the slightest. The guards that stood beside him ensured that he continued walking down the extravagantly decorated hallway, figures lining each side wearing various elegant dresses and suits, some even in intricately designed armor that mortals were rarely blessed to see. They all watched as the bound man was ushered onward to a large set of doors, decorated with a carved design of a long, serpent-like dragon encompassing the entire outer border of both doors, as if it were protecting what was beyond them. Wriothesley tried to slow his pace, flexing his well-defined muscles, doing whatever he could to try to break the bonds that held him in place, but nothing worked. The guards beside him only stared at his pathetic attempts at breaking free, a few patrons from the sidelines murmuring to themselves, commenting on how he should give up and how silly mortals were, thinking that they could defy even the smallest demands of the gods.

He always found himself in the most unfortunate circumstances, but this was the worst fate that could have befallen a human. Most of his kind kept their heads bowed, living silent lives and avoiding the powerful gazes of the deities that ruled their lands. For mere mortals, the prime level of life that they could wish to live was providing high level sacrifices to appease their rulers, hoping that they would be blessed in return or even ignored, in hopes of being allowed to live their lives to the best of their abilities. If they failed to uphold to this standard and a god felt slighted, even in the smallest of ways, then they were bound to become cursed, and experience the worst luck imaginable, having them wishing for a swift death. No, the gods loved toying with their victims, extending their punishment for as long as possible, feeding upon their misfortune, until their victims took their very last breaths. It was a miserable existence, but as long as you dedicated yourself to providing sacrifices that satisfied their desires and obeying whatever they commanded, then you could potentially avoid their gazes and wraths.

However, Wriothesley didn’t feel as though that was an existence worth living. He was a man that was shaped by misfortune, and rarely feared it. Having been orphaned at a young age and shoved from one foster family to another, he knew exactly what misfortune was, without the direct punishment of the gods. Each family he was tossed to was worst than the last. From having one family relying on him to provide them with everything and having worked to the point of exhaustion to keep food on the table, only to endure harsh beatings regardless of the outcome every night, to being sent off to fighting rings to win boxing matches against young men his age and older, he had seen it all. He eventually had enough and turned on his last foster family, killing his adoptive parents in the middle of the night, fleeing the area and taking the other children that happened to have the same misfortune as him to wherever he was going to go. They did find refuge in small, abandoned buildings, and for once his luck did strike true as he was able to find families that would take his adoptive brothers and sisters in, and not expose them to the same fates that they had before. No, these people took true pity on them, bringing them in and giving them a proper home and a good foundation for raising them. The same families always offered Wriothesley the same conditions, but he would always deny them, saying that he was far too damaged and messed up to be worth anything, too far gone for any sort of redemption or happy ending. Before they could even try to convince him otherwise, he had already taken his leave and was moving onto his next venture.

The young boy grew into a young man, roaming from city and city, finding places to work manual labor that would provide him with just enough funds to survive off of. Whenever a place offered him a permanent position or abode, he would thank them, and then immediately leave, onto the next city, town or village. He didn’t know why, but there was a part of his soul that felt like he was always in constant danger, and needed to run from prying eyes, even if he had no enemies. Though he had murdered his foster parents in cold blood as a boy, there were no further investigations into this, almost as if the crime had never happened. He wished so desperately that this was the truth of the matter, but his suspicions never seemed to completely wane. Someone had to have known, whether it be a mortal or a god. He knew that he was going to have to face the consequences of his actions, however justified that they were. So, he vowed that he would continue moving onward, never stopping, always running.

So, that’s exactly what he did. He never stayed long enough for any human or deity to know him well, and he wanted to keep it that way. Discretion was key, and to be honest with himself, this type of living excited him and kept him feeling alive. For once, he thought that he had finally hit it lucky, this was the lifestyle meant for him and he was going to live it to the fullest. Though his suspicions and underlying fear ruled him deep down, there was an odd sense of freedom that he felt being out on his own like this, and he never wanted to lose this. For once in his life, he felt lucky to be in the position that he was in. He was afraid to feel happy, but he couldn’t help himself. His adoptive brothers and sisters were on their way to a better future, and maybe one day, so would he.

Well, as quick as luck had visited him, it was just as fast to leave. The young man was continuing his work assisting a local general store with helping them bring in heavy goods, a horribly weighted sack placed on his shoulder as he was able to transport it inside of the store before multiple guards, lesser deities by the look of them, all approached him at once. Wriothesley immediately dropped the sack and tried to take off, not even taking the time to question their motives, but he was easily detained. One deity grabbed him by the shoulder and twisting it, pushing him against the wall as another guard brought out a metallic, golden rope, that automatically tied his wrists together behind him. Wriothesley growled as he tried to resist, now finding the time to begin spouting questions as he realized the situation that he was currently in.

“The hell did I even do?! I just got here and haven’t broken any laws, let me go!”

“That’s not up for discussion. You’re to come with us, no questions asked. Any hesitation, and we’ll hunt down your adoptive family and have them suffer for the rest of their days.” one of the growls out, tightening the rope around his wrists ever so slightly, for emphasis. Immediately, Wriothesley shut his mouth and said no word and offered no resistance. So, his suspicions were correct, someone had been keeping tabs on his whereabouts and knew about his past, but what god or mortal alike would hold any sort of interest in him? Sure, he was handsome and had both women and men swooning for him, but that never held any sort of value to him. He also didn’t have any sort of money in savings to his name, using whatever little he earned from odd jobs to be able to afford housing and small, pitiful meals and other necessities.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, as he immediately reminded himself about his biggest fear. Was this finally the retribution that he would be facing for his previous sins? Did the families of his abusive foster parents that he murdered finally send out their agents to find him, and a god had felt it was their time to shine to torture a mortal? There was no escaping it, even if it was the case. Wriothesley then opted to keep his mouth shut, hoping he was overthinking the situation. But, what else could this possibly be over, then? He needed answers, but he wasn’t about to try to fight against them for it.

Reluctantly, Wriothesley complied with their demands, and was ushered into a rather delicately designed carriage, one that clearly belonged to a higher-powered god, but which, he had no idea. The guards also remained silent on the manner, merely ushering him in and taking an odd interest in keeping him safe and comfortable, but still under their ever-watchful gazes. They continued onward with their journey, and eventually reached to where they were now, standing in front of those formidable doors, gods of various levels of power and renown surrounding them all, but their focus all centered on him and him alone. Wriothesley’s heart was racing in anticipation, knowing that he had no choice but to face whatever was beyond those doors, even if it ended up killing him, or worse.

A low, guttural growl was heard, seemingly originating from past the closed entryway in front of them, which had Wriothesley’s eyes widening in shock. Never in his life had he heard such a noise, no other god he had known or met personally held the sort of power that was radiating from such a sound. The others that were previously surrounding him were now shuffling away in fear, some were even shaking, staring straight ahead. A thought suddenly ran through Wriothesley’s head, he noticed that all of the deities were distracted, and he could easily flee from the scene. He tried to will his body to run, but instead it only stayed firmly planted in place, his body no longer under his control. His heart began to race in a sudden panic, and it wasn’t eased as the closed doors in front of him began to part, opening up to reveal a continuation of the current hallway that he was in, but a darkness was at the very end, hiding whatever it was that was awaiting him.

What happened next horrified the young man beyond measure, and by then he knew that he was doomed.

“Wriothesley, step forward, come to me, come to your destiny.” a regal voice called out, though the growl from before was also heard in the same voice, as if they were perfectly mixed together. Whoever was calling to him, this had to be one of the ancient gods of lore, mighty beasts that garnered so much power from its followers and victories of war, that it gained godhood. But, what would such a highly positioned god want with someone low and poor, as himself? Wriothesley wasn’t about to argue, however. Wriothesley tested his muscles, now being able to freely move them. He had regained control of his body, and along with that realization, the golden metallic rope that was previously wrapped around his wrists shattered, releasing their hold on him. Whoever this was wanted him to come willingly and freely, but also prevented him from having any other option. After taking a moment to mentally accept the situation for what it was and what it could possibly be, the man slowly but surely took step after step, inching his way forward, obeying the command that had been called out to him.

Once he was past the dual doors, they both slammed shut behind him, as if signaling there was no way to truly turn back now, the only way was forward. The young man jumped in response to the loud noise behind him, but didn’t bother looking back. Instead, the man glared as he looked forward, a figure now clearly standing where darkness once was, the hallway now oddly illuminated, as if showcasing the person directly in his path.

The god before him stood mighty and tall, long white hair with just as long blue streaks, decorated with golden ornaments, robes that matched the varying colors of the ocean’s brightest waters, swirling around his slim body in an ancient style of robes. His eyes were a sharp lilac color, and gave an odd feeling of being so similar to the eyes of a feline, slit pupils that were slightly dilated as his gaze was transfixed to Wriothesley.

“I see that time has done you well, Wriothesley. You certainly grew into a rather handsome man. I will forever consider myself fortunate to lay claim on you so many years ago, before the others could.” At this, Wriothesley gasped, anxiety beginning to rise within his chest. A god laying claim on him? Ages ago? He would have remembered such a thing, seeing as though the deities usually made a huge spectacle when they took a human as theirs. It wasn’t an uncommon act, but according to what Wriothesley remembered hearing, a god had to be completely enamored with a mortal to do such an act. A claim meant ownership of the mortal by the god, sure, but it also bound them together in a deep, intimate way. The god would always know the whereabouts of the mortal, their control over them being absolute. For the mortal, it meant having a power being provide and protect them, but gods tended to be jealous beings, and this often resulted in a rather lonely existence for the mortal. There were humans that found this to be an absolute obsession for themselves, dolling up their looks and doing what they believed would get the attention of some sort of god that would claim them, but many found that staying away from this sort of deep-rooted obsession was better for them.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. No one’s laid claim on me and- “

“Then how would you explain your horrible luck then, Wriothesley?”

The young man shuddered, every time the god in front of him said his name, an odd wave of feelings started to phase through him that he couldn’t quite explain. It was like it felt right, and a small part of him wanted to hear the figure continue to say his name, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. The hell was wrong with him? He has never had such thoughts about others like this, why now?

“I-I’m not following…”

“I saw you kill your foster parents. I knew what you did was justified, my dear. They were horrible and their sins innumerable. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself and the little ones. It’s not often that I find myself observing humans as closely as you, and I knew from that moment forward, you were someone I wanted. Someone with such a profound sense of justice, and the spirit to carry out punishment. So, I cursed you.” The man continued to explain, as if it were common knowledge.

“Why the fuck would you curse someone that you’re interested in? Are you fucking insane?!” Wriothesley shouted out, stomping forward to stand right in front of the mighty being. The ancient one’s brows furrowed, glaring at the young man in front of him.

“Wriothesley…” the god said, his tone demanding respect and issuing a single and final warning.

Wriothesley bared his teeth at the ancient one, issuing his own, small, pathetic growl, in comparison. However, he understood and heeded the silent warning, not taking any further action, allowing the omnipotent being before him to continue on with his explanation.

“Of course. I didn’t want to take you away, especially with you being so young. However, I wanted no other god to look upon you in favor and want you for themselves. So, I placed a curse on you, and took care of anyone being aware of you committing murder. You would always feel as though someone or something was chasing you. A home would never be one for long, your soul aching to keep searching for something. If a suitor tried to approach you, you would take no notice or interest. They, also, would disappear from your life. Luck would abandon you, forcing you to follow your true destiny with hardships that would test you, mold you for your potential to come alive. You were to keep living your life, until I was prepared to receive you, and you were of a proper age. Now, is the time, Wriothesley…”

The powerful being before him then snapped his fingers, the area around them turning pitch black for just a moment, before the it was illuminated once more, showing a marble decorated room with various different nautical decorations adorning every aspect of it. Blues, golds and silvers lined and adorned every aspect of it, treasures beyond measure lay everywhere, as if the room itself were a museum of the heavenly bodies. In the middle of the room, and directly behind the god, was a giant, circular bed with blankets of the finest silk with the same level of intricate designs on them as well. Wriothesley’s breath stuttered, as he took a small step back, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Now is the time to consummate our binding, wouldn’t you agree? It’s been many years, and my hunger for you is insufferable…” the being in front of him stared intensely into his own eyes, unable to avoid him. A million thoughts were running through Wriothesley’s mind, but only one question was able to come out.

“W-w-who are you…?”

“Ah, yes. Sincerest apologies, my love. You may know me by many names, and by many forms, though this is my true self, that I will never hesitate to show and share with you. The title you humans appear to have given me in my temples is Neuvillette, god of all that is hydro, the waters of all are mine, of the lakes, the sea…” Neuvillette purred as he began to approach Wriothesley.

“Of every human body, but especially yours…”

The young man hastily started taking steps backwards, never keeping his eyes off of the powerful being before him, but it was to no avail for his situation. Suddenly, behind him, he felt a sort of cushion that he was then pushed down onto, sheets wrapping up around him as he became entangled in them. It took a moment for him to realize that the god before him must have teleported the both of them straight to the circular bed he had observed before, and now both of them completely nude and exposed to each other. Wriothesley shrieked as realized the position that the two were in now, him being laid out on the bed like a meal on a decorated platter, while the god above was draped over him in pure possession and domination, but that wasn’t the only reason why he screamed out. The young man also observed the full body of the god in front of him, perfectly chiseled muscles but with a slim, elegant figure. White, creamy skin that was free from any blemish or imperfection, and perfectly smooth with little to no body hair, except for his lower body, where white pubic hair trailed from below his navel down towards his lower pelvic region, where instead of one perfectly thick and long member, he seemed to have…two…

Oh, fuck, he was truly not going to make it out of this alive, whether Neuvillette realized it or not.

“G-Get the fuck off of me, just kill me!” Wriothesley screamed out, trying his best to push the god off of him, but once more, to no avail. Though his muscles were much larger than the deity that was draped above him, it mattered little. Whatever claim the god had on him seemed to hold true, he could never overpower him.

“Never, Wriothesley, never, you’re staying with me for the rest of eternity. I will show you how a god truly appreciates his claimed…” Neuvillette growled out, as he lowered his head and nuzzled Wriothesley’s neck, licking it repeatedly in a sensual manner, as if he were handling an absolute treasure. Wriothesley shut his eyes as he moaned in pleasure, not able to prevent himself from doing so, as his hips started rutting upwards, his member starting to harden from just the simplest of touches from this being. He blushed in embarrassment, but no one had ever touched him in this way before, no one had ever said such words to him. Everything he ever wanted to hear and feel from someone, Neuvillette was serving it on a silver platter for him, and he was a starved mortal, ready to accept it all.

“Ah, ah, what are you doing to me, Neuvillette…” Wriothesley breathed out, in a husky voice, fully immersed in all of the emotions and sensations he was feeling. Neuvillette only smiled against the skin of his neck, as his hands began to roam the young man’s body. Soft, but powerful hands continued to caress him, touching Wriothesley in places he never dared imagine anyone else doing so. From his muscled pectorals, down the sides of his stone hard abdomen, and then finally down to his rear as Neuvillette grabbed his cheeks, giving them a nice, firm squeeze, sharp nails digging into the meat of them, but never breaking the skin.

“I’m showing you how much you mean to me, you’re my desire, my passion, my reason to hold firm to my rule, so that no other may touch you like this. Only me, only ever me…” Neuvillette mumbled, burying his head back into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck as he continued.

Wriothesley let out a dirty moan as Neuvillette’s fangs elongated, rooting themselves deep into his neck, and tasting of his blood. The god made sure that when he released and his fangs retracted, that the wound would heal, but leave behind a deep scar that none other would question. He made sure in the back of his mind, to order one of his underlings to immediately begin commissioning a necklace for Wriothesley, that would accentuate his looks but also have the marks forever on full display for the world to see.

At this point, Wriothesley was hard as a rock, his member leaking precum as it begged for attention, for a release, for pleasure, and Neuvillette was more than happy to oblige. Removing himself from the young man’s neck, Neuvillette moved over to Wriothesley’s lips, licking them lightly, biting at him just a smidge, before he invaded them completely, inserting his long tongue and exploring the depths within. Wriothesley greedily allowed him to do so, wrapping his arms around the neck of the god, pressing him further down so that the kiss could be deepened even further, if that was possible. Neuvillette could only smile as he continued his assault, a hand now trailing down Wriothesley’s body, feeling the differences between the two. Where Neuvillette’s body was smooth and perfect, Wriothesley’s had dark hair that covered his arms, some of his chest, and definitely trailed down to his lower regions, oozing manly features. His body, though littered with scars from the trials and tribulations of his life, only seemed to further decorate how in his own way, he was powerful and worthy to be the claimed of Neuvillette.

As the hand of the god reached Wriothesley’s member, the man groaned, still stuck in the deep and passionate kiss, continued to raise his hips up, a while leaving his lips as his member demanded any sort of friction against it. Neuvillette grabbed him, stroking up and down, thumb teasing the leaking head. The kiss finally broke as Neuvillette desired to see Wriothesley’s pleasure, as he continued to pump the member of his claimed, doing every action so perfectly and true to the wants and needs of the young man. It wasn’t long before Wriothesley was breathing hard, his body shaking as he released all over the god, thick ropes of cum shooting out and even coating Neuvillette’s chest, as if adding to the creamy skin of his claimer.

Neuvillette could only continue to smile as Wriothesley repeatedly began to apologize, ashamed of what he had done but enjoying feeling every effect his god was bestowing upon him.

“Shhh, my soul, hush now with that. I do not want your apologies for indulging in what I give freely to you. Now, roll over…” Neuvillette growled out, the animalistic side of him starting to show. Wriothesley trembled beneath Neuvillette for a moment, but the god only offered him an odd sense of assurance as he gently led Wriothesley to roll over onto his stomach, directing him to keep his chest lowered onto the bedsheets but his rear raised high, on full display to his god. The young man, still embarrassed, tried his best to hide his face within the lavish sheets of the bed, but didn’t fight back. A part of him wanted this, needed this, wanting this session they were sharing to never end.

Wriothesley felt a warmness spread throughout his core, as he assumed Neuvillette had summoned some sort of water to assist with what was about to happen. The liquid was spread along the crease of his bottom and hole, delicate and soft fingers of the god above him caressing him, touching every inch of him, as if he were savoring his very existence. It wasn’t much longer after this that he could feel an odd flesh shape being pressed against his hole, one of his dicks, Wriothesley surmised. His heart started to pick up it’s pace once more, worried that such a formidable size wouldn’t be able to fit and he would feel nothing but pain as he was tortured into the act. However, that was far from the truth.

The water continued to warm and relax the skin that it touched, his muscles feeling lose and somewhat stretched even before he knew he was being entered. Neuvillette lowered himself once more, kissing Wriothesley’s back and nibbling here and there with his fangs, building up Wriothesley’s desire for him, which he did. Once he heard the young boy beginning to pant, spreading his legs even further and raising his rear even higher, he knew he was ready. Slowly, the god started pressing the head of one of his cocks into the greedy hole of his claimed, and it accepted him with ease. Wriothesley continued to plant his head directly into the sheets of the bed, moaning so loudly and continued to pant like a dog, but he desperately wanted this, needed this. It was only a matter of time before the god was deeply planted inside of him, taking a moment to relish the feel of the warmth that his length was now experiencing. The god then started to pump into his claimed, clawed hands holding onto his waist for support.

The thrusts started out small, and careful, but the pace was quick to change. The more that Neuvillette was planted in Wriothesley, the more that he desired, so his thrusts began to continue with their assault, becoming deeper and rougher.

“Yes, yes! More, more-gah, FUCK!” Wriothesley yelled out as his thoughts started to lose all sense but being completely consumed by pleasure. Within seconds he lost the ability to form any coherent words, only feeling and appreciating the ecstasy that his god was providing for him. Time seemed to go on forever as the thrusts continued, and Wriothesley had begun grabbing onto the nearby sheets, twisting them until they were a complete mess from the perfect state that they were in before.

Another deep, animalistic growl was heard above him, which made him moan even harder, as he felt Neuvillette’s balls slap against his ass from how deep he was thrusting in, the second cock now also fully erect was also slapping against his ass, warm and thick. It seemed that the god did have some form of pity for him, as he had only inserted one of his members this time. But that didn’t stop the conquering of his mortal body. A few more grunts were heard as Wriothesley felt something spill inside of him, so very warm and copious amounts kept flooding in. The young man sighed in absolute bliss, eyes fluttering shut as his body fell down back to the bed, Neuvillette easing him back down, but keeping his member deeply planted as more cum continued to be released inside of his claimed one.

Little did Wriothesley know this was the final act to solidify their bond. The god of hydro had marked him with his essence, and it will never fade. Every god and mortal will instantly know who he belonged to, and Neuvillette will always know what he was feeling, where he was, his thoughts and feelings now completely forfeit to him.

Oh, how lucky this god truly was.

[caitlynmeow]

I need some small hcs about Cass' gf/wife to feed my brainrot or I may implode.

Please 🙏🙏🙏

asdfghjkl no worries anon i got you!!!

She took the first step and went for it when she saw Cass for the first time. (also need to specify that she’s about 3-4 inches taller than Cass bc she used to play volleyball when she was in high school. She’s a masc lesbian and has tattoos on one forearm)

During early relationship hiccups she didn’t back away and let Cass disappear. She went to the castle and all the way to Cass’s room and and a proper talk with her to figure things out.

She is very dominant and territorial when it comes to Cassandra (and Cassandra loves it) and she isn’t afraid to casually say “if you mess with my wife I’ll kill you,” to anyone who thinks they can just approach Cassandra. And she will add “I’m not joking. I will kill you,” (meanwhile our Cass is melting into a puddle)

They are both very kinky this is why there is never a lack of creativity when it comes to them and their time alone together as well as bedroom activities

She loves spending time with Cassandra, just the two of them. A lot of their dates are them just lounging around in her apartment after going out. They prefer to shift their activists indoors because these two can last a whole night just fucking each other into oblivion and back.

She loves cooking, especially for Cassandra because she’s picky and her future wife takes pride in making things that Cass loves. Though she was shocked on day when Cassandra said “you make the best chicken nuggets” and she felt a slight betrayal because “of all things I cook for you it’s the chicken nuggets you like best” deadpan and all

when she proposed she did it privately because she will never be one of those people who try and make a public spectacle out of something so private. this is between her and Cassandra and she wants it to remain this way (Cass said yes in a heartbreak because how come this woman knows her so well???)

She’s the more rational/logical one as opposed to Cassandra’s passionate and wild nature.

She isn’t afraid of Cassandra. She isn’t fooled by the assertiveness she knows she can fold her like a lawn chair if she wants but she plays along just to see how far Cass can go before she shows Cassandra who’s the boss in their relationship

She knows that family is very important to Cassandra and this is why she also has good relations with the mom and sisters

She’s the only one who calls Cassandra princess (affectionately) and Cass allows it because she knows it’s something genuine (bc wife loves using nicknames and she dares Cass to deny it (she doesn’t))

She is aware how actually spoiled Cassandra is and have told herself that ‘it is what it is’ because she’s been to castle Dimitrescu plenty of times to learn that there isn’t anything she can do about it (besides she loves Cass just the way she is and she wouldn’t have it any other way)

She knows all about Cassandra’s trauma and what happened to her and she is always willing to take things slowly and not make her feel uncomfortable in any way. (She was so serious about it she went to a therapist to learn how to be a better partner around this kind of trauma) she really loves cass okay ;__;

She can understand the different moods Cassandra have and knows how to handle them (in case she can’t a little space can do them both wonders (unless Cass is still going to war and blowing things way out of proportion again) (bc our girl is very intense and emotional she can go on and on and on)

They decided to have their wedding after the building of their mansion house is done. they kept changing the wedding date because not everything is available and interior designers and engineers from all over the globe are working on the place and things just kept getting delayed because of a piece of furniture only exists on one place all over earth, Cass was going to wait for this one particular item to arrive and since it’s a HUGE house this process took a while (Alcina did get mad and said that the wedding should be called off until further notice instead of keeping pushing the date back)

The thought of having children with Cassandra made her feel very ecstatic. It was something to deepen their bond and she couldn’t wait to see what kind of child she can Cass would make (tho the thought of any of their kids getting Cassandra’s attitude and personality is terrifying, she was ready to embrace it (spoiler: kids ended up having the same attitude and she learned to navigate through that but she loves them more for it)

[laugtherhyena]

And here's the last of my character opinion charts. A simpler yet simultaneously pretty fucked up one, y'all see what i mean.

Once again, check out the cast post to know who is who in this chart if you're not familiar with the 1st round cast.

As a devoted follower of Rher, John is the only one out of the cast who actively participates in the festival, Aka: kills the other contestants, both intentionally and from the get-go. He's there to appease his god and if carnage is what Rher wants of him he will do it, this is exactly why most of his chart is composed by the indifference status. John is there to win, these people are competion, so he won't hold back in shooting their brains out because that's what they're meant to be doing in termina.

He really sees the festival as a hunt of sorts and so views the majority of the other contestants the same as he views the animals he is used to hunting down; He doesn't dislike or have some form of vendetta against them, but he harbors no feelings for them either and won't feel anything when taking away their lives. But the thing about John is that he's not running around yelling and screaming about how he's going to kill everyone and win, oh no no, He is incredibly calm and polite regardless of the situation. He will hold normal conversation with some and in a few hours he will chase and shoot someone multiple times in the forest, in both of these situations his mood and form of speech will remain largely the same. Unsettling is a great word to describe him! Contestants who are none the wiser may mistake his cordialness as being a sign of him being trustworthy and end up with a gun aimed at their back sooner rather than later.

That being said, there are some characters spared from his immediate hit list, those are the ones that he deems "promising" so he keeps them out of his gun's aim because he wants to see what they'll do through the festival. This however does not mean he would hesitate or feel bad about killing them if it came down to that, he would even feel much if Matyas died and he is the person he likes the most out of the whole cast. Death is just a part of termina, it's gonna happen sooner or later when 14 need to become 1. However if they moonschorched John would be absolutely ecstatic because he sees moonscorching as a blessing from Rher, revealing one's true nature and rebirthing them into a higher purpose in existence. This view is why John himself feels great when it happens to him, as he genuinely believes the Direwolf is the peak or his existence or something of the sort.

Anyways, why does he like Matyas so much? Well Mr.Jezek has been plagued by visions of the termina festival and other of Rher's crazy doings for years now and when John discovered that he becomes instantly enamored by him because it took him so much work to get a single vision from Rher but this guy gets them constantly? Absolutely amazing! He'll encourage Matyas to go on and on about his visions and subsequently the paintings he's made based off of them while feeding into Matyas's delusions that he is special and a prophet of some kind chosen by god himself, Matyas then goes on to ask about Rher to John because prior to termina he had never gotten awnsers of why he had these visions or who was behind them since he was just shunned for it and treated as a freak. They make each other worse while enjoying one another's company ❤️

Next up we have Kit who John has an almost friendship with, they're both outcasts of sorts for one reason or another and i imagine sometimes they chat during the night at John's little campsite in the forest. While Kit isn't a Rher cultist, John respects his dedication/devotion to Gro-goroth because he wishes he could have dedicated more of his own life to worshipping a god, he also hopes Kit will be able to see "Rher's grand design" when it comes to the termina festival just like he does.

On the intrigue raning we have Amos because of the violent outburst he has at the start of the festival where he kills several cherubs and decrepit preists in the orphanage. John saw this and thought he was an incredibly promising contestant only to be imediately dissapointment when Amos calmed down and revealed himself to be a kind and caring man. still, John hopes Amos will "return to his senses" and let himself free in the festival since he was doing so well at the start :( I think he skeaks up on him sometimes to tell him this sorta shit, hopefully Amos won't pay much mind to his ramblings.

Meanwhile he is intrigued by Damian out of the vet's curiosity regarding the moonscorches, Damian sees them almost as animals of sorts and wants to study them even if his main goal is to leave termina. John appreciates his intrigued over what he considers to be "Rher's blessings" and is curious to see what Damian thinks of them and if he will allow Rher to "bless" him as well later down the line.

Lastly we have Catherine who is an odd one out here being the only contestant who John dislikes outright. That's because the side of the war Catherine was a part of is the one that fought against the army his friends were drafted to, while she wasn't the one who pulled the trigger on them (she's not even a soldier) he despises anyone even remotely affiliated with the Bremen army and if not stopped he will go out of his way to murder her via snapping her neck with his bare hands after almost suffocating her so she can have a slow and painful death in comparison to the bullet to the head he deploys on his other targets, a revenge of sorts for his fallen friends.

[fabdante]

Hello! as much as I love your aesthetics for the reboot, I was wondering what classic art style you'd associate the og games with if the reboot is baroque and theme-wise the og games are pretty gothic imo

Hello! I would definitely agree and say that the original games are very gothic in design. I know they were really influenced in at least the first few by gothic cathedrals in spain, which i think is really interesting. there's definitely a gothic, sometimes almost medieval leaning in the design sensibilities of the original series.

beyond that design background, though, I do think gothic is a very fitting period for the thematic of the original series! and it's really interesting how it does that!

gothic i think also fit's a lot in that it's a lot of playing with light and shadow. like when we think about gothic there is of course gothic paintings and stuff but we always think about the architecture first which is all about how light works. bringing light into dark spaces, keeping those spaces illuminated at all periods of the day, so on and so forth. despite how we associate the name and these cathedrals with the dark and the macabre, at their time they were incredible feats of essentially light science. here's an example:

this is cologne cathedral and i use this image because it was the first non AI image i found you can see even with the surely modern equipment they have in there to light it up, you get a sense of how the light floods in and bounces around in the building.

or there's something like santé Chappelle:

so if we're talking about a movement that's all about playing with the light and the dark, i feel like that fits very nicely with the original series which itself is very concerned with the concept of darkness and light, the good and evil nature of our cast of characters.

the original series is very concerned about this honestly. dante is constantly talking about light and the virtues of human nature and the darkness of the demon. he's constantly in conflict between these two things but so is vergil. someone who wants to embrace that demonic nature because he thinks strength is everything and that his demon nature will make him strong. the central conflict in the series is the conflicting ideologies of the brothers as one tries to convince the other that he is the right twin. in the games it's often rationalized not exactly as good and evil but rather a conflict between human (good) and the demonic (bad).

but beyond that this is a fairly common reoccurring theme. this conflict between good and evil and the balance of both inside of us. like lady seeking to right the wrong of her mothers murder by avenging her, proceeding to then kill her father. or nero's whole conflict with credo, and credo's then conflict against the order of the sword. or nero's conflict with himself as he grapples with his demonic abilities and heritage (something dante also struggles with). or trish going against what she was created for (similar to sparda in a way). and so on and so forth. it feels fitting that the series has such a gothic design twinge, a movement so known for illumination in the dark.

to have light, anyway, you do need that contrasting shadow. which i think is something else the original games are trying to get across. one doesn't exist without the other, it's just what you feed and how you balance that. that's something we again get very strongly with vergil who tries to separate what he see's as two parts of himself but they cannot exist without each other. not only is vergil not himself without both, v and urizen also need each other to survive they're too unstable without each other. while i don't know if we can exactly define v as 'good' (he's not bad either i just wouldn't all him some apex of goodness or something) we can define him as the human part of vergil so this all fits in here i think.

i also think its fair to point out while i've mostly been talking about cathedrals, a lot of this also applies to the other art of this movement. it's largely focused on depicting religious themes and depicting these religious themes as fairly straight foreword moral tales of good and evil in addition to having a complete love affair with gold (which, tying back to our light and dark theme, gives the pieces a light source as the gold reflects whatever light around it and gives them a sort of glow, not dissimilar to tricks that sculptors like Bernini will then take advantage of later during the baroque period with pieces such as the ecstasy of saint teresa)

all in all i do think the perfect classical art period for the original series both in aesthetic but in thematics is gothic art. it just fits so well

[remadra]

The Powers That Be

HC's and bragging under the cut

All the paintings were referenced from the game but I did them myself, I made the wallpaper design, yes I did the wood grain line by line because I'm insane and I taught myself to mimic the VHS/static effect manually. I'm incredibly proud of all the work I put into learning new techniques and improving my skills! Okay!!!

It's all canon to my Pale City teens AU but it's also my HC for the series in general.

Each power manifests as a warped version of its respective child. Hunger doesn't quite look like Six though. I HC'd the shadow in LN2 after Six gets taken as the Hunger manifesting, displaced because the Broadcast overpowered and kicked it out as Six was taken into the TV, and that it originally was RCG's power. Six and RCG have the same silhouette with their hoods up, or at least close enough to fool people into mixing them up. It attached to Six after RCG fell in order to save itself, because it needs a body to feed off or it'll fade away. That's why it seemingly encourages Mono forward when he falls from the train- it can't take Mono, he already has the Broadcast, but it can follow him back to Six, like a ship following an ice breaker. Hunger requires feeding (whether it be gaining control/power over something or feeding Six's ego in a pinch) but unlike any other power, it isn't bound to a location. It's a splinter of the Maw's power that clung to RCG, the daughter of The Lady, when she ran away, seeking to gain a foothold somewhere away from the ship to grow itself. In a way, both were running from their mothers. Hunger, as a non-location bound power, can also feed off other powers, slowly gaining abilities similar to or derived from others. Originally it couldn't transform it's kid into any monstrous forms, but close contact with the Broadcast's Tuning gave it an edge so Six can warp herself at will. Hunger can only grow, but so will the cost of feedings. This is why it only has one concrete ability for its current child unlike the other's having two.

The Broadcast is Mono's power, and rarely shows itself to others. It can be glimpsed lagging behind Mono as he runs through the tower or TV hops if one looked closely, but its shy for an all-powerful being. It prefers to watch. Its granted abilities are the TV connection and Tuning the world, though its restricted to the Pale City to stay at its most powerful. Mono can Tune things from their warped to normal forms, like clearing static from a screen, but it doesn't work on living things, or he can Tune something Out like The Thin Man into simply... not existing anymore. He can Tune his powers to be more precise but it's exhausting. The TV connection allows him to hop around via the screens, both through space and time as long as a TV is connected to the Signal Tower. It's easier to hop short distances because the toll is exponential. Mono could move a mile with one hop, but it takes less energy to make a series of short hops to move the same mile. It's also much easier to only move through time or space, so he'll often look for close by TV's to use before heading to a specific moment. To avoid paradox problems in the time loop, interacting with himself in a way he doesn't remember causes extreme migraines as the Broadcast patches in the new memories. He tries not to use it too much, and avoids spoilers for the future. They only cause problems.

The Pretender's power is called the Command. Strongest at the Nest, but weakest in its own personality, it allows her to direct or control adults in her domain- The Butler and The Craftsman would still do their jobs as adults are incredibly focused on purposes, but a little direction with a Demand helps remind them who's in charge. The vocal ability also has an effect on children. Though she can't Demand them to do anything, it can paralyze them momentarily. This ability gets stronger the older the target until they're compelled to follow orders. Her second ability is the Dismissal Touch, wiping the victim from the world and only leaving their possessions behind. It only works on the living, so her Touch wouldn't have any effect on the Bullies or something already dead. It's not that her gloves would stop the Dismissal either, it works on anyone through clothing as long as they connect, but because Pretty's powers are closely linked to her emotions it helps to have a tangible cover so she doesn't slip up and Dismiss a friend by accident. That is a hassle for Mono to fix via time hopping and restarting the day. Checking her gloves gives her a sense of security. Anything that startles or frightens her can cause her power to flare in defense.

That's what I have to share so far!!!

[joculine]

DIE Issue #5 Reread (Gillen & Hans)

We are so back. Lets get into Premise Rejection.

This is my second favorite issue of the first arc, after Issue #2. I think it holds my favorite panel, which we'll get to later. This is a really bombastic finale to the trek to Glass Town and it sets up what will become a wild couple arcs. I'm sure you aren't expecting a standard ending to this "hero's" journey from DIE and that's certainly not where we're going. Let's get into it.

Art

I really like the design of this harvest god above. He's massive and lanky, and seems like kind of a mess.

I absolutely adore the design of this robot brain guy from the Eternal Prussian forces. Look at him.

What a weird little thing!

This issue is also full of stand out appearances for Ash and Sol. And gosh... are they stand out...

Good lord these two are volatile together. This is a great example of a relationship between a GM and their most "In It" player. The issue is really just long fight for control over the plot. I love that they are made for each other in the worst ways possible.

So About The Fallen

Part of why this is my second favorite issue of the arc is that it has the second Oh Shit moment of this comic. The reveal that the Fallen are dead players is such a great plot point. It clicks with the whole fantasy becomes reality becomes fantasy again deal, it keeps Sol around to stir up trouble after his death, totally re-contextualizes this type of enemy and how they've treated them, and, best of all, raises far more questions than it answers.

Big contender for my favorite Sol panel.

So everyone who has ever played this game and died ("the word is die") is revived as The Fallen. What does that actually mean? Aren't our crew here the only kids who have played the game? How are there so many Fallen here already? What about the elf queen, who was an NPC Sol made?

For those first questions, perhaps this is the Homestuck in me or perhaps this is me back-reading some later plot into this, but it seems pretty obvious some sort of time shenanigans needs to be in play. And it eventually sort of will be. (It will be quite similar to how Skaia functions actually.) We'll save that for the issue it shows up in, wayyy down the line.

As for the NPC Fallen, I believe there's some clarification in the RPG book here—there are Fallen, the monster and enemy a GM can throw out and there is the Fallen class, which all players receive upon dying in DIE. Diegetically though, I think there is not much difference between an NPC who has been abandoned or skipped over and a player character (or player as the case is here) who has died. They are both expended beyond their purposes and given a new role as detritus. They also have a drive to claw relevance back from the blood of the Paragons, something that would bring them back to life (and back into importance.) DIE has a zombie curse but only for those who would make the most emotionally painful zombies to deal with. Very on theme.

In this way, it's also very Dark Souls, isn't it? I wondered about this too for those games. Why can Ornstein and Smough not just come back hollowed and kick my ass again? They lack the curse of Undead, that tormenting anchor of relevance that only affects those hungry enough for dominance to keep going past the point of death.

Those who are Fallen (like the Paragons or the Chosen Undead) are meant to exist as long as needed to see their stories to the bitter end. Is that curse something imposed on them? Yes. Is it something they feed into themselves? I think so. There's nothing stopping Sol from just giving up at this point. But that's not what he's going to do. He's going to keep going because he can't let go of the game. Dying is no reprieve. And hey, now the Fallen aren't so morally simple to kill after all! Remember what Izzy was saying about the House Rule? Looks like they may have been cutting into actually Real People from the Real World for some time now. Ruh roh. We'll see this play out more soon. For now, we can think about how poor Sol has found out he is more at the whims of Die than he may have thought.

Speaking Of, Sol Has Kind Of Always Been Like This

Which I'm sure comes as a very painful shock to him. He's someone that views himself high above the players, a plotter pulling the strings. A real mastermind GM type.

That's what this boy is telling me. His work, be it Legos, Glass Town, the ruleset, or his grand second game, it all exists in a complete, crystaline state. You admire it. You follow the path he has set out for it. It is "finished" before any of the players set foot back on Die.

This is, of course, not how things will go. The title of this issue is Premise Rejection after all. Ash figured out quite quickly that Sol has put them in a railroading Saw trap to force them to play along. In response, she is guiding the party to pull it apart by the screws. Rather than look for these keys or whatever the Chamberlain was talking about, everyone has used their skills to pick away at Glass Town's defenses and put the big robot army against Sol's cool magic castle. With a fairly light application of their magical power, they manage to pull of city wide carnage at little risk to themselves.

This is classic player behavior and a great example of how a little thinking can tear down even the grandest GM constructions. Remember how we talked about how Glass Town was a pretty poorly thought out city? Sol is finding out just how problematic his plot holes are proving to be.

I love watching him come down with his big stupid cape. Look how unprepared for this he was. Do you think he was hiding at the top of Glass Town the whole time? I bet he even had a palantir or something. What a dork.

Very quickly we watch him start to edit the rules on the fly like a flailing GM. The damage is already done, so at this point he's flexing out of spite. Look, he's even restricting class abilities:

I do find it interesting how Sol's Master abilities are written to reflect Ash's Dictator ones. They're both italicized and both have squiggly lines around the speech bubbles. They're also both highlighted in colors, Ash with red (a major one in her color palette) and Sol with blue (also in his palette).

Let's connect their magic briefly with color (we'll talk more about color very soon) and say the red Dictator compulsions in this issue are destructive and "game breaking" while the blue/purple Master laws are defensive and "game enforcing."

Importantly, they both deal with the narrative but in different ways, Ash more with emotion and motivation, Sol with what people and things can literally do. We know from go that a Dictator is a story-teller and a plan-maker... that's not too dissimilar from a GM!

But Sol, huh? What a sore loser.

A Dictator's Best Weapon

I never really got why Ash has this crazy death touch thing. It struck me as an odd choice to give the social manipulation class. Chloe shared her thoughts with me when we were talking about DIE a few months back and it's illuminated things for me.

The Dictator commands emotion, yes, but they command narrative as well. What is this death touch if not the ultimate command—a powerful punctuation to the Dictator's arsenal. If making you love her doesn't work, making you dead will get the job done too... and there's certainly no way to argue with Ash on that. It's as though she's walking around with a big pen she can use to strike out bits of Sol's story she doesn't like. She went big here and scratched out the author section. Yikes. Hope you got a plan to follow up on that, Ash!

Look at her go, already editorializing just seconds away from killing Sol. Do we think Ash believes the narrative she's telling herself? Do we think she believes she can make us buy into it? The great part is, I don't really know! It's moments like these that pull us out of the story and remind us we're being given most everything through Ash's words that get to the core of what DIE is after. It's about these people trapped in stories of their own making and how it turns them into quite awful characters.

This is probably the darkest we've gotten so far. A great reminder to Ash's friends and first example to the reader at just how much she can commit to playing the anti-hero. Anyway, let's get back to the death touch.

This is the other half of that power—the power of its implication. See how Hans has set up this panel: first, your eyes hit the glowing hand, the brightest object in the panel and the thing that has just killed Sol. Then you move back to traditional left to right and see Ash. She's crying, but resolute. Then her words. They're harsh. Maybe understandable though? Then back at that hand. It's not just the weapon that killed Sol now, but the thing that may touch someone else. She's reaching out for their hands to start the ritual. She's letting them know what "anything" means... they'd better be unanimous. Now that's a master manipulator at work.

This is that favorite panel BTW.

How Far Is Too Far?

Here's another stand out panel from this issue. Ash's expression is exquisite: pain, anger, thrill, resolve. It's all there. This comes moments after using the voice to completely dominate the Chamberlain of Glass Town and it's not what I'd expect to see from her.

She's filling her role both as Dictator and schemer and yet I feel like she's about to throw up or cry. Or both. The metaphor here paired with the destruction she saw the from the Steel Dragon in Issue 3 is delectable. She's recognizing the horrible power she's choosing to wield in order to bring ruin to Glass Town... but she's also not rejecting it.

This is a question DIE is going to keep asking of its characters: how far are you willing to go with your role? Will you play your part even if it is horrible? What if harnessing the power of a Paragon is your only option? What if it's not?

Here's Angela, the badass cyberpunk, failing to both be grizzled or distant from her humanity. I think it's interesting Case, such an innocent pet, is mechanical, especially given that our other examples of robotic entities are all warmongering automatons. She treats him as so real, while she views the Prussian leaderbot as a tool to be hacked and who's autonomy is to be overridden. That's not to say I think that leaderbot is isn't merely an automaton though... I actually think this is more damning to how Angela anthropomorphizes Case.

I said last issue Case is a pricey distraction. I think that's still correct. Even here she feeds him one last piece of Fair Gold, understanding he will probably die again tomorrow. It's a bit of a waste before what's going to be a dangerous battle.

Matt, meanwhile, seems perfectly able to indulge in his pain enough to... save his friends? Or start an attack on a city full of people? Both I suppose. Not a great look but one he appears to have little issue with for now.

This interaction stood out to me this read. I've always had trouble understanding why the Emotion Knights have talking weapons. It's cool, obviously, but I had trouble seeing something deeper than that. I realized tonight though, these weapons are their emotions, not separate entities.

That sword is Matt's own worst impulses, weaponized both literally against his enemies and psychologically against himself. After all, what is a knight but their weapon? "Don't listen to it," Ash says. She might as well say "That's just the depression talking." Yeah, no shit.

Another quick observation... is she even listening? Getting "back to [his] family" is exactly what the sword (Matt's own grief) is worried about. Very empty words, but perhaps very intentional to keep Matt on track and focused.

Chuck has no problems living as a swashbuckler in a fantasy world because he is Chuck. No other comment needed.

Imagine for a moment that I stopped there and moved onto Isabelle. I feel it's important to at least entertain the hypothetical joke if we're going to talk about the Fool. Chuck (and his class) exist as a joke, but he's a joke you have to take seriously eventually, right? And be respectful and shit.

We see his carefree and self-focused attitude come to a head when he draws a gun on Ash. Yes, Chuck has no problems living as Die wants him to and he's willing to go frighteningly far to keep it that way.

Joining him is Izzy, who has begun to take her role as a "cleric" very seriously. What's going on here is complicated. Let's lay out the facts:

Isabelle is the one who brings up the House Rule. "We treat Die as if it's real." She's also expressed fear at being relied on as a teacher (both holy and high school), while still assuming responsibility of it.

This moment is a union of those two traits. She wants to stay in Die because these are real people who's lives they've ruined and she feels like someone needs to step up and guide them. While she hates the idea of doing that, she (very rightly) does not trust anyone else to a good job of helping the residents of Glass Town (or perhaps any job.)

This is especially odd with the role of the Godbinder, who deals in debts and balances with the gods. As she describes in 1991, she's an atheist with pets—really more demonologist than cleric.

Excepting Angela (who I think is underused in this issue TBH,) the party is in full roleplay here. What comes of that commitment? The burning of Glass Town. Not a good sign.

The Emotion Wheel

This is already so damn long and emotion wheel talk is going to drag it even more... but I need to do it at some point. Let's start with the first proper introduction of the wheel.

Oh look, it's Plutchik's wheel of emotions. This is not an original insight, it comes directly from one of Gillen's essays in the back of each issue. I think we might respond to those directly soon.

The wheel posits that all emotional states are variations of mixtures of 8 core feelings. This is how the Dictator and Emotion Knights function (the former mechanically, the knights more textually. Sol may be a fan of Plutchik's work.) Dictators treat this as a palette to work with, Emotion Knights as a sworn order to follow.

I think there is a strong connection between the coloring used in many of these panels and the colors on the wheel. Memory scenes, for instance, play with purple and blue: disgust, sadness, remorse, disapproval. Ash's story of the Joy Knight is pink and red, quite far from the yellow of joy and closer to contempt, loathing, and anger after many years walking as a corpse.

But Cassie, you may say, Ash's dictator powers are always red... and so is Matt's sword! Hold onto that thought with Matt, but it's also not an exact key. Which is good! I think that would be pretty boring!

As I noted in the Dictator/Master section, I've thought of reds and blues and destructive and constructive magic. This follows with the red skeleton, the blue magic core mantaining Glass Town's shield, the red sword that destroys it, and Isabelle's portals to escape.

I also think that Fantasy Heartbreaker is just a really really red arc. If I remember correctly, future arcs have a more varied palette. Perhaps there will be more color for us to explore there.

Now that I've dropped this big unwieldy graph, I also want to share a bit about how much I love Emotion Knights. I've run a game with a Fear Knight before, which was a lot of fun. And could you imagine a Trust Knight, sapping and destroying bonds between people to use as critical hits? I can imagine a very potent relationship between her and her Dictator wife. Really just a fantastic and juicy concept. I think they should be in every game.

Other Thoughts

I don't have anything to say about this other than it's great.

I think it's fun how badly Ash reads Sol's eye theming. I don't think he's afraid at all.

It's almost impossible to see Dominic and Ash as the same person. Ash is just so... confident in everything. She schemes. She kills. She's beautiful. She's a dominatrix... but outside Die she just... isn't that at all. She's so scared and so hollow on Earth.

I say almost impossible, but that's not really true. I think it's a familiar feeling to many trans women. It's scary to see how hard she's fighting to go back to that in this issue. Is it good for her to do that? I don't think so. Not entirely. Is it easier for her to be on Earth than Die? I honestly don't know. But I think it appears easier to her. Die is the world in her closet, but it can be so painful to stay there when there's so much waiting for you outside it. And yet... I don't think she's ready to go. There's still deeper for her to go.

Kieron writes her well.

Next time we'll be talking about either the end of issue essays or just jump into issue #6, I haven't decided. It'll be much shorter than this, but we had a lot of character stuff to cover. I'll leave you on my favorite line.

[ananxiousman]

After thinking about the Barbie movie and how I initially reacted to it, I feel I’ve missed some points and see a much better message than I did previously. Perhaps my staunch distrust of corporations bled into my interpretations too much. Initially, I felt as though it was actually feeding into the repetitive nature of oppressive behaviors. Not gonna lie, I fell into the trap of feeling like the idea of masculinity was being mocked and villainized as inferior to femininity. I felt they missed ‘the point’ and were pushing an agenda of women oppressing men to ‘get even.’

After removing myself from the situation and mitigating emotional entanglements, it seems to me that I missed the fact that the movie states repeatedly that the way Barbie treats Ken is wrong, so much so that when he finally discovers masculinity and a safe space to express it, he immediately returns home to share it with all the other Ken’s. They weren’t trying to trivialize the presence of masculinity and normalize mistreating men, in fact, quite the opposite.

In the beginning, they lived under an oppressive matriarchy, and they replaced it with an oppressive patriarchy. The Ken’s over corrected and further offset the balance of things. Having no leading experience, all they could do was try to meet their own needs. Which furthered the circular pattern of inequality.

It’s a story of finding common ground and still remaining beautiful, powerful, gifted individuals. Not bending or weakening one’s strengths and personality to be subservient, or vying for power to oppress.

After finding this perspective, I think they did an excellent job of highlighting the vicious cycle of struggling for equality.

They leave it at an unresolved point because they want men to desire equality, they want women to desire equality. True equality. They want us both to see how dangerous it is when we are fighting against each other to get it.

They are not each other’s enemies, rather, they are victims of patterns of thought and behaviors that existed long before them. Simply put, they didn’t know any better and were living out a system set in place by truly oppressive people. They were caught in a mechanism of someone else’s design and struggled to bridge the gap between true reality and the life they previously accepted as reality.

They wanted us to see the importance of working together, and to leave a hole that perhaps we must fill in real life with our own actions.

Love yourself. Be yourself. Love others. Let them be themselves. Work together.

Wether or not I feel corporations can be trusted, that’s a beautiful message.

[musical-chick-13]

If I can be serious for a second, I do think that, for a lot of people, feminism is about Sticking It To Men (or, in some cases, people they "see as men") more than it is about supporting women. And this is concerning, not because I think we need to coddle men's feelings, but because I question the efficacy of making a movement that is, fundamentally, about women's rights and self-determination about men.

If the focus isn't on things like "how can we help women" and "how can we protect them from a system that hates them" and "how do we change the system to something that doesn't hate them," with an understanding of what makes that system function the way that it does, then we're never going to make any forward progress.

It is only by having an intersectional understanding of the way prejudice works (on a systemic and individual level, because those two things are directly related via how they feed on each other) that we will actually have a coherent idea of how to dismantle the systems and behaviors that hurt us. It is only by prioritizing both the creation of a world where prejudice does not dictate political policy or general outlook and the providing of resources and aid for the people who are/will be victimized by said prejudice, that we can actually take steps to making life materially better for women. That should be the endgame. If you can make misogynistic men angry and cause them discomfort in the process, then great! But I don't think that should be the ultimate goal, solely because doing so would remove the focus from making human rights, safety, and personal fulfillment more accessible to women.

As far as feminism goes, I am here to make the world more livable for women. I am here to help build a political and social environment where women don't have to constantly fight for their right to exist and be seen as people. If we lose sight of that, then, yeah, we might end up with agitated and unsettled and disheartened men, but that's all we end up with. We don't end up with support networks for women. We don't end up with actionable plans to keep women safe, we don't end up with politically-enshrined rights, and we don't end up with a world that is specifically designed to be less hostile toward women. Those things are the reason for activism. Sticking It To Awful Men is a bonus.

YES, WHEN I SAY "SUPPORTING WOMEN," I MEAN TRANS WOMEN. BECAUSE THEY ARE WOMEN. I CAN'T BELIEVE WE LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE I HAVE TO CLARIFY THAT EVERY TIME.

[rontra]

holding your hand looking into your eyes is the exact energy I intended thank you for picking up on it

🤝

typeoneninja asked: Maybe though do say who powergirl is because I have actually less than zero idea

oh my god i get to talk about my blorbo...okay well you MUST understand i'm still a comics newbie and laser focus on only the stuff i directly care about so it's not like i've read everything about her or anything (and things do vary--sometimes A LOT depending on the character lol--from comic to comic as is DC's dark design). so take everything here as kinda loosy-goosy from someone who's Casually Acquainted. however (LONG POST)

^me.

you know Supergirl right. heard of her. kara zor-el (spelling may wary) she's superman's cousin (usually) and has the same power set. it's me supergirl and i have all your powers

power girl is Also kara zor-el (spelling may vary) from a Different Dimension. two of them.

the details about her backstory vary a little but the agreed upon IDEA for her is that her home dimension has like collapsed somehow or the earth in it is torn to shreds or whatever. she's either like the only survivor of a dimension that went poof or she's been isekai'd here from an earth that was getting blown up by demons or whatever.

and now there's two karas and theyre forced to coexist on the same earth and they can't both show up dressed like supergirl so now power girl has to do her own thing.

that's like generally the gist of whats going on w her conceptually. she got vooped over here and now she's stranded on an earth that isn't hers with castmates that aren't the same people she knew

like i said the specifics of her backstory vary but on top of being Dimension Displaced she usually shares Supergirl's whole "after their home planet exploded she arrived to earth much later than Superman did, due to Space Shenanigans" thing. she's usually older than supergirl. and she DOES have bigger boobs also. NOT sure why that's a dimensional difference between them but i'll take it (what were they feeding her on earth 2?)

sometimes they're drawn basically looking identical. i can understand the impulse (they are both kara zor-el after all.) but i think it's kind of a shame when power girl doesn't look Older than her because i like it when she's older than her. i guess sometimes they either ditch that part or just don't feel like it. F.

anyway when they look identical you can usually tell them apart by identifying which one DC has bequeathed the Boob Window upon and that one will be power girl. works every time

to me i became enamored with her when i was reading some green lantern comic (it was my first comic, they had launched a guy's coffin into the sun and had to go get it back it was wack) and i noticed a boob window girl (my beloved) had BEEN INVITED but didnt get to DO anything. she spent all her time standing in crowd shots while other people did the main stuff. and i thought "wow. now there's a character i need to put in my purse". and the rest is history

it was like this

i felt like bad for her i was like oh honey...you're coming with me... my girl in the ensemble

she kind of struggles in general because she doesn't get a lot of content coming her way. (and when she does it's not usually stuff that i love.) she shares this with supergirl too 🥰

anyway i hope that helps a little. she's supergirl from a different dimension and she's stuck here now. is the gist of it.

-

for a bonus side-elaboration on what IM doing over here in my AU, my main basis for CTDE power girl is her shenanigans in the n52 where she gets stuck here WITH another extremely normal girl (they get isekai'd together during like a big dumb demon war on their home earth). that's helena wayne she's batman's daughter in the other dimension and no such person exists on this earth. they're both stuck (together) (the only 2 people on earth who know and understand each other) (it's romance) (superbat for girls)

in that story power girl becomes like mildly obsessed for a bit with devising a way to get HOME to her own dimension and earth which is (as far as she knows) still under siege by Planet Fucking Hellmouth. shes building machines. shes using technology

(while helena believes there's nothing to go home to anymore and they should try to make a new life in this new dimension)

what gets me about it is that its SO FUNNY that this specific power girl's setup is basically a supervillain origin story that they just don't lean into because her name is on the book (obviously). (hey why do so many villains build a DimensionFucking Machine that's gonna Fuck Up the Dimensions because theyre obsessed with something on the other side anyway)

but i feel no such restraint obviously!!!!

so anyway my CTDE "Arc 1" is about Power Girl (now almost two decades deep in her desperate fixation) finishing building the ultimate DimensionFucker 9000 to get home. shes been working on this for years. she doesn't care very much about this earth and she needs to go back to her own one NOW

Helena is realizing with horror she's way too late to talk her babygirl out of this one because PG just isn't listening to her anymore (and as a human she would struggle to snap PG out of it by force). she feels she has no other recourse but to betray her most specialest girl and sell her out to supergirl, who's investigating the Weird Dimension Rift Shit that's been going on (and is strong enough to actually fight her)

And Supergirl has to stop PG because what that thing is doing to HER universe is NOT GOOD!!!!!

(Supergirl was like a teenager when her home planet krypton went kaboom--she Remembers it and feels detached from everything because she doesn't Have a home anymore + oh my god the trauma + also no one on earth even really needs her that much. but that doesn't mean PG can DESTROY THE DIMENSION!!!!)

(also in my AU the other earth is actually lost for good, so it's not only a Grief Quest but a FUTILE Grief Quest because there's no one alive and nothing to salvage on the other side of the portal anyway)

It's the "Power Girl As Villain In A Supergirl Book" arc. because i think women should have cute obsessions that endanger other people and i LOVE when the karas interact

this is why i drew pictures of them being very not nice to each other 😔

like it all works out. it's fine. they do some crying and screaming at each other, some kicking and punching, helena gets her piece in, and PG's brain fungus finally calms down enough for her to take the "Protagonist Kara" seat for Arc 2 (when Supergirl has her own issues to deal with)

theres just a lot of "kara zor el screaming At Herself that she can't go home because there is no such place anymore and she has to live with that forever in a place she doesn't belong". you know. girl talk

anyway that's like roughly power girl + what im doing with her in my first arc (helena is here too dont worry) hope that helps. shes my comic blorbo. hope she gets the main stage in a good comic someday. MDGHBJFGM