#once again please no spoilers in the tags

[silenzahra]

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

⚠ BROTHERSHIP SPOILERS ⚠

This is basically a narration of the intro scene of the game, so as you can imagine, this story is spoilery for those who haven't started playing the game yet. Beware! ⚠

This might be a simple story, but the intro scene really spoke to me. Ever since I saw the first trailers, and especially, after seeing the looks the brothers exchange when Luigi saves Mario, I knew that I had to write something related to it. Just, those expressions resonated deep within.

So... here's the result! As a way to celebrate that Brothership came out a week ago today, I thought it'd be the best moment to post it. Since there are spoilers here, I won't be tagging anyone, but I sincerely hope whoever reads this story will enjoy it 🥰 And of course, likes, kudos, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome! 💖

As always, feel free to choose between reading this fic on AO3 or continue reading under the cut. Whatever you choose: get ready for some brotherly love coming your way! ❤️💚

(Needless to say but just in case: please do NOT tag as ship 🙅‍♀️)

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

“Luigi?”

Mario walks through the green island where he’s ended up searching for his brother. Everywhere he looks he only sees trees, bushes, grass and more and more vegetation, and beyond, the crystalline blue sea, but no trace of Luigi.

Except, of course, for the visions.

It's not the first time Mario has seen his twin before him even though Luigi isn’t physically standing next to him, but it's been so long since the last time that Mario has been caught completely off guard. At first, in fact, he broke into a run towards him, convinced that Luigi had found him, and stopped dead in his tracks in confusion the second his brother vanished in front of his eyes.

When he heard him trying to push a rock behind him, Mario turned around, full of happiness and relief, and immediately set out to help him... only for Luigi to disappear again the instant Mario began to push too. The feeling of joy that had flooded him at seeing his twin deflated like a balloon that had just been stuck with a pin. Crestfallen, he could do nothing but repeat Luigi’s name, anguished at not being able to find him.

But then he heard his sibling once more.

This time, the voice came from the top of an embankment that Mario hurried to climb in a few jumps. There he found him again: standing at the beginning of a dirt road, Luigi was jumping and waving to him incessantly, excitement shining on his face.

And it was then that Mario understood.

These were not mere visions... but their brotherly connection guiding him to his twin.

After all, the bond they share since birth has always been special, intense, profound. It’s a bond that knows no bounds, that goes beyond what the mind can comprehend, that is not of this world.

It’s a bond that binds the hearts of both brothers with an unbreakable thread, stronger than any rock and more solid than the very ground their feet walk on. A bond that lets them know that the other is safe and well.

A bond that, since their childhood, guides their steps towards each other so that they can be together again as soon as possible.

After all, they’re not used to being apart for long.

So, at last having understood, Mario headed towards the path that Luigi indicated, ready to travel the distance between them.

His little brother, just as he expected, disappeared shortly before he reached him, but Mario didn't falter this time. He knew, he knows, that their twin sense was guiding him towards Luigi, and that, at the end of the road, there he’ll be at last: alive, real and solid.

On all those occasions, Luigi guided him by calling his name. Now, as he walks along the path that his brother showed him, Mario realizes that his heart is filled with relief as he remembers that Luigi's voice has sounded sing-songy every time, amused even, almost as if he were playing hide-and-seek with him. Maybe that's a good sign...

... Or maybe he's clutching at straws.

After all, Mario knows his brother too well to know that Luigi would never try to make a game out of a situation like this, in which, once again, they’ve been separated by accident and in strange circumstances. Surely, his brotherly sense is only trying to reassure him, as Mario, in fact, imagines, with a shudder that takes away all traces of ease from his inner self, that his twin must be terrified, anxious and desperate to find him.

Very similar to how Mario himself is feeling at the moment.

So he continues to look for Luigi and call him, on the lookout for any sign that might indicate the whereabouts of his little brother.

But, for the moment, nothing.

As he walks, Mario rubs his arm regretfully. Guilt pricks his soul and his heart shrinks in his chest. Why didn't he hold him tighter? Why did he have to let go... again? It's not the first time his sibling’s hand has slipped through his fingers and Luigi has ended up somewhere out of Mario’s reach. He should have learned his lesson by now.

He should have learned to be a better big brother by now.

Mario grits his teeth and keeps moving forward. He may have made the same mistake again, but he’s more than determined to make amends. The resolution to find Luigi takes up his heart completely and relegates guilt to a corner of his heart, though it doesn't disappear entirely, not by a long shot. They may both be grown men now, but Mario can never shake the feeling that Luigi and his well-being are his responsibility. He will always support his brother in whatever decisions he makes about how to live his life, and of course, he has unwavering faith in Luigi and his skills, but Mario, at the very least, will always see to it that his sibling is well, safe and sound, and will do everything in his power to contribute to his happiness. Always.

But, for that, first he has to find him.

It is then that Mario realizes that he hasn't seen any new sight of his brother for a while nor heard his voice calling him again, but that won't stop him.

Nothing could stop him from doing whatever possible to reunite with Luigi.

Looking around again, Mario notices that he’s reached an area of the island that leads to the ocean. And off in the distance, sailing across the mighty sea that surrounds him, he sees a huge ship, more like a floating island, which, however, also appears to be covered with vegetation. A huge tree stands out in its center, its leafy crown serving as a sail, and the figurehead appears to be a thick tree branch. Mario stares at it in the distance, amazed and astonished.

But then he hears something that startles him.

A scream.

A scream that sounds very similar... to his name.

That voice...

In a hurry, Mario runs to the very edge of the island where he is, wanting to listen better in case the sound comes again.

And indeed...

“MARIO!”

Mario gasps, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Luigi!”

Of course! If he hasn't been able to find Luigi yet, it's simply because they've ended up in different places. Again.

But that's about to change.

His twin sense has guided him there. He’s heard Luigi again, and this time he sounded scared, terrified. Mario's most primal instincts, those that push him to always protect his sibling from all evil, have been activated and run through the plumber's body from top to bottom, filling him with adrenaline and urging him to do something, to help Luigi in any way he can. What if he's in trouble? What if he's been kidnapped? He couldn't bear the thought of his little brother being captured once again, and because of him too. Just like last time.

No, no way. He has to do something.

Without hesitation and with his twin’s desperate voice echoing in his ears, Mario steps back. For a few seconds, he just stares at the huge ship that continues to advance before his eyes, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched. Soon it will be nearby, and the time will come to bridge the distance between the two with a wide leap. He must time it very well and be very fast, for the ship is moving swiftly.

Showing a patience that he’s only capable of when it comes to Luigi, Mario waits. He doesn't lose sight of the ship for a second and counts down mentally to determine the moment when he should run. Almost there, he says to himself. It's not long now.

Soon he’ll be able to see Luigi again, and he’ll fight against all odds to help him.

Mario takes a deep breath and positions himself on the ground. The ship is almost within reach. It's only a matter of seconds before it’s close enough.

So, without a second thought, Mario starts to run.

He does so with all his might, getting closer and closer to the gap that separates him from the island ship. The determination to aid his brother, to make sure he’s safe, governs his movements and makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

After all, Luigi sounded scared.

He needs him.

He needs his big brother in the same way Mario needs his little brother.

Mario reaches the point where the island he is on ends and leaps.

His jump is high and forms an arc in the air, as always. He’s more than used to making jumps like this, both in his many solo adventures and in those in which his beloved brother has accompanied him.

The ship is nearing. Mario heads for it at full speed in the air and stretches out an arm to cling to the edge as soon as he reaches it...

But then he notices two things.

The first is that, being a ship, it has continued to move. It’s no longer so close to the island from which Mario leapt seconds before.

The second is that, therefore, his jump is not as high as he expected it to be.

He hasn't timed it right.

He's not going to make it.

He's going to fall into the sea and the force and speed of the ship will finish him off.

And he’ll never have the chance to meet Luigi again.

Mario panics. As his body begins to fall, as he watches before his terrified eyes how the ship slips from his grasp, he can only think that he cannot die without first making sure that Luigi is all right. He hasn't had a chance to see him since they fell through that portal, he doesn't know if his twin is okay. That was undoubtedly a cry for help. Luigi is in danger! How can Mario help him if he falls to his death?

“NO!”

Mario screams. It's not a cry of terror at his own impending death, but of frustration and rage. He asks only to be able to see Luigi one last time, to be certain that he’s all right, that he’s safe and sound, and then he’ll be able to move on.

He will accept his end with open arms if only he can know that Luigi is fine and well.

But, above him, Mario sees only the sky, a limpid blue, which begins to recede farther and farther away as he plunges to his death in the sea.

At least, he tells himself, the last thing his eyes will see before they close forever will be the vastness of the sky, which today seems to be clearer and brighter than ever.

And then, suddenly, fingers reach for his and a palm strikes his.

Unexpectedly, Mario finds himself hanging over the ocean. Some small stones fall around him, and he allows himself to look down for a moment, towards the roaring waters that were about to become his grave. He’s unable to restrain the mixture of terror and relief that takes over his entire body and soul as he realizes that he’s narrowly escaped.

He’s been very close to dying.

“Mamma mia...”

Mario's heart is still beating wildly in his chest, distressed at the proximity of death, when he decides to look up to find out to whom the hand that has just saved his life belongs.

His face immediately lights up as he notices the person that, leaning over the edge of the island, is silhouetted against the crystalline blue of the sky. A hat, a moustache, overalls... An outfit very similar to his own, but in shades of green and blue instead of red and purple.

Mario is beside himself with joy.

“Luigi!”

His exclamation is full of relief and the deepest and purest bliss. There he is: his strong little brother, eyes closed, clutching his hand, making a visible effort to hold him and not let him be swallowed up by the waves.

And, above all, more alive, real and solid than ever.

Mario's soul begins to sing with joy — Luigi is fine! Luigi is well and real, and not one of the visions that have been guiding him towards his sibling.

And not only that, but he has just saved his life.

Mario owes it to his dear, brave little brother that he can continue to breathe.

In fact, this was all he wanted: to be able to see Luigi one last time, to check that he’s well, that he’s alive and not in danger at all. If now death were to take him out of Luigi's reach, if the sea were to claim him in spite of everything, Mario would be happy to let himself go.

But his younger sibling, much stronger than he thinks he is, clings to him with all his might, almost in desperation, and does not seem to be willing to let death take his big brother away. In the midst of the effort, within seconds of hearing Mario call out to him, Luigi opens his eyes and looks directly at him.

The terror and anguish glistening in his eyes cut Mario's breath for an instant.

For a second, suspended over the edge of the ship, held only by his twin's fingers, Mario ponders how he himself would feel if the situation were reversed.

In fact... he knows all too well.

Before they ended up in that world that seems to consist only of a wide sea and a couple of islands, Luigi, in an attempt to flee from some bees that were attacking him, fell off a cliff in the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario almost fell with him from the momentum with which he rushed after him to rescue him, and he vividly remembers the fear he experimented, the horror that gripped his heart, as Luigi dangled from his hand, one step away from death.

Mario swallows. The anguish that invaded him at that instant hasn’t completely left him. He’s been so close to losing his brother that he’s sure that never, not even if he lived a thousand lives, would he be able to forget the panic, the terror, the horrible and sad prospect of living in a world without Luigi... and that it was his fault.

He could not bear it.

Guilt would not let him live.

His shattered heart would never recover.

And his twin's eyes, at this instant, scream exactly the same to him.

Mario can't blame Luigi for being afraid of losing him, for he himself would see his life end if death were to take Luigi from him.

Clinging to the edge of the island with his other hand, Luigi closes his eyes again and pulls Mario up, grunting from the effort. With only one hand, he manages to lift his big brother up enough so that Mario can grab onto the edge of the cliff with his free hand and pull himself up. With their combined strength, Mario finds himself taking a small, unexpected leap into the air before his entire body is safely on the ground.

He only allows himself a second to catch his breath before he sits up and begins to turn around so that he’s sitting on the grass.

“Thank you, Lu,” he manages to say in the meantime, between gasps.

Looking at Luigi out of the corner of his eye with a tired smile on his face, he notices that Luigi, standing next to him, is silently watching him, trembling, his face falling apart, his eyes moistening. Mario barely has time to wipe the smile off his face before his twin, screaming his name with a mixture of fear and relief, begins to cry loudly as he stretches his arms out to either side. Mario turns his head towards him for a second before, with an exaggerated jump caused, no doubt, by the state of nerves in which he is, Luigi pounces on him.

Despite the surprise, a wave of sheer love and warmth floods Mario when he feels the arms of his little brother, his emotions always running high, surrounding him and holding him with a mixture of liveliness and affection that warms his soul and heals all the fear and anguish he’s experimented in the time he’s been apart from his sibling. Still crying, Luigi starts to rub his cheek up and down against Mario's, who, again, smiles, this time moved, and he raises his arms to return his adored twin's embrace.

“Oh, Lulu,” he whispers, soft laughs springing from his throat due to the tenderness that invades every corner of his soul.

There he is, next to him, always as concerned for his well-being as he is for Luigi's. His twin, his brother, his sibling, his other half. The person who balances him, who keeps him sane and without whom he could not go on living.

Mario has finally found Luigi and never plans to be separated from him again.

[fyeahnix]

Once again, I will be watching Arcane at release time early tomorrow. I WILL BE TAGGING SPOILERS with "Arcane spoilers" "spoiler" and "spoilers" at least until about Monday or maybe Tuesday

But regardless, please be aware of this and unfollow, block, etc as needed.

[leighsartworks216]

You Shouldn't Touch Me So Casually

Sylus x gn!Reader

I have been drooling over this fucking card since I pulled it last night. He has such a hold on me i swear. Title from my favorite line in the card

Set in the Raven universe, but it doesn't have to be read that way

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, cat Sylus, cockwarming, riding, touch starved Sy and reader (mention), swearing, kissing, biting, licking (once), scent kink, no genital descriptions for reader, spoilers for Sylus's Yes, Cat Caretaker card

Word Count: 1, 425

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You tilt your head curiously at Sylus. He’s sitting on the couch in his bedroom, arms crossed, and with a pair of cat ears on his head. A matching cat tail pats the cushion beside him in irritation.

He sighs. “The kitties at the cat cafe put a curse on me,” he explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Miss Hunter is helping me correct the issue.”

You walk around the couch, studying him from behind. The cat ears on his head flatten, but they perk back up when you’re in front of him once more. “Cute.”

He glares at you, but that sharpness is gone the second you brush your fingers against the fluffy ear. He inhales sharply, eyes closing briefly, before he jerks his head away, glaring at you once more. Though, the frown etched into his face since you stepped in seemed to soften up. “You shouldn’t touch me so casually,” he scolds. “I’m not used to it.”

Still, he doesn’t complain at all when you straddle his lap. In fact, his tail shifts to brush against your leg, and he uncrosses his arms to rest his hands on your thighs to keep you in place. You touch his ear again, petting the soft fur that pokes out with your thumb as your fingers stoke the smooth back of the ear. He shuts his eyes again and leans into the touch this time. His hand lifts from your leg, reaching to pull you away, but it falters in the air with the tense sigh he releases.

“You’re a damn tease,” he grumbles.

You smirk, even if he can’t see it. “Should I go grab the collar?” Your nails scratch along his scalp as you drag your fingers up from the base of his neck and into his hair. He shivers underneath you.

He practically growls and pulls you tighter against him. “Don’t you dare.”

Sylus’s inexperience with gentle touch isn’t new to you; you’ve both had your fair share of touch starved indulgence, just caressing and holding each other until you’re sated. But this is something completely new. He’s never been this sensitive to your touch before, this reactive. It’s addicting to have him so responsive under you.

You kiss the furrow in his brow. It relaxes, painting his expression as one of relief rather than disdain. With your fingers in his hair, you guide his face to your neck, which he is more than happy to do.

You smell so fucking good. It’s the same body wash and shampoo that you always use, but it burns in his senses until he can’t think straight. He wraps his arms around you, hands gliding along your back to keep you in place as he runs his nose along the expanse of your throat, lips mindlessly following along with lazy kisses. “If you keep touching me like that, beloved,” Sylus breathes next to your ear, “I- Fuck.”

All you did was switch to scratching and petting his other ear. You’ve never seen him lose his composure in the middle of a sentence before. You kiss the crown of his head, between the cat ears. “Do you want me?”

He presses a lingering kiss to your pulse. “Please,” he whispers. It’s all he needs to say.

His tail shifts restlessly beside him as you help to free him from the confines of his pants. His dick springs free, already painfully hard from such little attention. He works clumsily to expose you, too, grunting in displeasure when he can’t remove your pants in this position. You gently shush him, rubbing the tip of his ear between your fingers and ducking your head to kiss him, as you slide off his lap and kick your pants aside. He eagerly pulls you back on top of him, hissing when you barely brush up against his aching cock, flushed and leaking with desire. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so damn shameless with how damn good you make him feel.

He has to pull away from your lips and hide his face in your neck again as you stroke his cock, spreading his precum all along his shaft. “Fuck, so good, sweetheart,” he croons. He mouths at your skin, sucking and biting and kissing. Trails of saliva already glisten against your throat. “So fucking good. I need to feel you, need to be inside you.” Each word is almost a gasp of wanton lust.

You raise your hips and he helps you without prompting, watching through hooded eyes from his place in your neck as you line him up with your entrance. You slowly, god so slowly, sink down onto him. He pants against your skin, kissing along your jaw in appreciation. You bring your hand, covered in his precum, to his face. The heady scent floods his senses. He licks your hand clean without a second thought.

His fingers dig almost painfully into your hips, as if he’s trying to dig invisible claws into your flesh. They help you sink deeper and deeper onto him, until he’s fully sheathed within you. His girth stretches and sits so heavily inside you. He lets out a shuddering breath. He wants you to move so fucking bad. Wants to fuck up into you until you’re scratching him through his sweater and dripping full with his cum. But you don’t.

You kiss his head again reassuringly. His hands release your hips in favor of lying flat across your back to keep you close once more. You trace your fingers along the edge of his cat ear. It twitches from the light touch, but doesn’t pull away. When you scratch at the base again, at the back where it meets his skull, Sylus honest-to-god whimpers.

“‘M not gonna last long,” he grits out, apologetic.

“I’m not asking you to.” You cup his cheek tenderly, stroking his heated cheek with your thumb. “Don’t fight it, my love.”

He sighs like a weight has been lifted from him. He nuzzles behind your ear, a silent thank you, before he digs his canine into your earlobe. He only lets up when he tastes blood. The pain is immediately soothed with a kitten lick.

“If only you knew what this felt like,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “I can smell your arousal, your soap, your scent. It’s all around me. I can’t escape it. And-” He hisses softly as his cock twitches inside you. He bites down on your pulse, breathing heavily as he fights off his orgasm for just a bit longer. “You’re so hot around me. Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your thumb rubs his inner ear, down close to the canal. He groans, leaning into your touch desperately. His face presses into your palm, kissing at the center breathlessly. “You’re so good to me,” he sighs. “So, so good.” His hands clutch at your shirt, one letting go to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh. You can feel him tense beneath you, brow furrowing again from the building pressure.

You draw his lips back up to yours. It’s hardly much of a kiss as he loses the battle against his impending release. He pants and gasps and groans into your mouth as his cock twitches, coating your insides with hot spurts of cum. You caress his sensitive ears purposefully, rocking your hips gently against him to work him through his orgasm. It gathers into a beautiful ring around the base of his dick, filling you so much it has nowhere else to go. With a pinch on your hip, you stop moving, letting go of his ear in favor of cupping his face in both hands.

He rewards you with a proper kiss, though shaky as he catches his breath and comes down from the overbearing sensations that bombard him. He pulls away slowly and presses your foreheads together.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your smirk. He huffs a laugh. He kisses you again with a thoughtful hum. “You didn’t finish.”

You shake your head. “I’m okay,” you assure him. You brush his hair back from his face, careful not to brush against the cat ear. “We should take a bath.”

He scowls at the thought of water. Instead, he ducks his head down to bury his face back into your neck. “I’ll clean you up later.” He presses a kiss in the hollow of your throat. “My treat.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince short stories highlights & annotations

the training of erasmus

(takes place before book 1: captive prince)

NOTE: this is a weird one. as i read through this short story, i kind of just started taking stock of all the different abuse and indoctrination tactics used against erasmus and the other palace slaves. because there’s a lot of that in this story, and i think it's a good way to understand how erasmus got to be the way that he is. there's some other analysis, but not much. curious to hear thoughts, because i think this story could mean vastly different things to different people.

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include. additional warning that this short story focuses heavily on sexual slavery.

It was right that training here in the palace should be more arduous than in the gardens of Nereus.

brainwashing. i'd call it gaslighting, but these people were groomed to never even question what they're told about the world around them.

He took his morning lessons with Tarchon in one of the small marble training rooms filled with accoutrements that he did not use, because from dawn until the sun reached the middle of the sky, it was the three forms, over and over and over again. Tarchon gave impassive corrections that Erasmus struggled to perform. At the end of each sequence, ‘Again.’ Then, when his muscles were aching, when his hair was drenched in the heat and his limbs slippery with sweat from holding a pose, Tarchon would tell him curtly, ‘Again.’

torture.

‘So Nereus’s prize flower has finally blossomed,’ Tarchon had said on the day of his arrival. His inspection had been systematic and thorough.

no personal boundaries.

‘Your looks are exceptional. This is an accident of birth for which you are not entitled to praise.

no recognition of individual merit.

You are training now for the royal household, and looks are not enough to earn you a place there. And you are old. You are older than the oldest I have worked with.

manipulation through conditional reinforcement (positive and negative).

He had not known what to do, or say. Arriving in the stifled dark of the litter, Erasmus had tried with each painful heartbeat to hold himself still. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over him at the terror of being outside. Outside the gardens of Nereus, the calming, comforting gardens that contained all that he knew of life.

isolation and fear of the unknown to foster dependence.

‘Iphegin slipped on the stairs.’ And then, ‘You think Aden pushed him?’ The joke was awful. There were dozens of male slaves-in-training, but only four wore a golden pin, and Aden and Iphegin were the only two who wore the pin of the King.

competition.

Nereus had always said of him, A man only has to look at him to want to possess him.

that’s a bullshit generalization. i think he’s just convinced himself that everyone else in the world is as fucked up as he is, living in a culture where this is normalized

In the next moment Kallias was throwing his arms around Erasmus, holding him tight, pressing his cheek to Erasmus’s cheek, the highest intimacy allowed to those who were forbidden to kiss.

restriction of bodily autonomy and intimate activity.

‘I’m for the other Prince,’ said Kallias. ‘Kastor.’

i’m shocked that kastor’s type isn’t blondes with blue eyes, since that’s what damen is into

Close as brothers, the trainers said, smiling because this was a charming conceit, young slaves echoing the relationship of their princely masters.

infantilization and patronization. (by the way, it has never been lost on me that patras is called patras)

Erasmus talked hesitatingly and for the first time about his most private feelings

suppression of individuality and emotional expression.

The body knows when it is ready.

i don’t even know what to call this, but it’s fucked up. the idea that a person's physical reactions are more indicative of their desires or state of being than their thoughts or words.

When Iphegin’s room was cleared out and his kithara given to one of the new boys,

so they just completely got rid of him, because someone else pushed him and he got a scar. do you think he lived? what happens if he doesn’t have legal personhood but is deemed unfit as a slave? execution?

‘He was named for Iphegenia, the most-loyal. But they don’t remember your name if you fall.’

SOMEONE ELSE PUSHED HIM. there is no coherent logic of justice here. there doesn't need to be, with how they've conditioned these people.

‘I’m to be Kastor’s welcome when he returns from Delpha.’ He said Kastor’s name with its honorific, as all slaves did when they spoke of those above them, Kastor-exalted.

it’s interesting that pacat didn’t write the honorific into the dialogue, but specified that it was there.

It had never made sense that Kallias was being trained for Kastor. Yet for some reason the Keeper of the Royal Slaves had decreed that his finest slave-in-training should go not to the heir, or the King, but to Kastor.

yeah i think the reason is that the keeper knows kastor is about to kill his dad and brother

‘Damianos doesn’t take male slaves.’ ‘Sometimes he—’ ‘I don’t have your colouring,’ Kallias said, and he opened his eyes, reaching up to put his finger around a curl of Erasmus’s hair.

this isn’t getting a “damen likes blondes” tally

A full performance of The Fall of Inachtos was four hours, and the Hypenor was six, so that every spare moment was spent in internal recitation.

forced repetition, memorization, and recital of prescribed literature.

But that night, he let his mind drift to other poems

good.

In the female gardens, of course, pins were more common. The tastes of the King and his two sons ran along predictable lines.

i don’t want to think about the female gardens

Erasmus was aware of the lingering responsiveness of his body, which he could not touch himself.

denial of bodily autonomy and intimate activities, specifically with one’s self.

Some days he liked it. He liked the ache of it. He liked the feeling that he was denying himself something to please his Prince. It felt strict, virtuous.

makes sense, given the strategic abuse he’s faced. which is fucked up.

He knew . . . he knew the Prince had many slaves. The attendants spoke of this with approval. The Prince had healthy appetites, and took lovers frequently, slaves and nobles too, when the need was on him. That was good. He was liberal with his affections, and a King should always have a large retinue. He knew the Prince’s eye tended to roam, that he was always pleased by something new, that his slaves were looked after, kept in permanent style, while his eye, roaming, frequently fell on new conquests. He knew that when he wanted men, the Prince rarely took slaves. He was more likely to come from the arena with his blood up and pick out some display fighter. There was a gladiator from Isthima who had lasted in the arena for twelve minutes against the Prince before he’d fallen to him, and had spent six hours in the Prince’s chambers, after. He was told those stories too. And of course he only had to choose a fighter and they would yield to him as any slave, for he was the son of the King.

damen’s development throughout the series really is incredible, both in terms of execution and the amount of development that occurred while still feeling believable

What it would be like, to be the receptacle for the Prince’s pleasure?

like you're an object, not a person.

Kallias sang the ballad of Iphegenia, who had loved her master so much that she waited for him though she knew what it meant to do so

using “history” to reinforce instilled values.

‘I want to be taken across the ocean. I want to see other lands. I want to see Isthima, and Cortoza, I want to see the place where Iphegenia waited, the great palace where Arsaces gave himself to a lover,’ he said, recklessly. The yearning inside him crested. ‘I want—to feel what it is to—’ ‘Live in the world,’ said Kallias.

The space between their bodies felt clouded and hot. He understood why those three places on his body were forbidden to him, because all of them began to ache.

Festival food for everyone: the ceremonies of First Night eclipsed anything he had seen in the gardens of Nereus, the height of a slave’s career.

and how fucking bleak is that

Tarchon said, ‘He is fit for a King. I always questioned Adrastus’s decision to send him to Kastor.’

at least there’s some kastor shade in this story. insulting that guy never gets old

Kallias laughed, the sound uneven. ‘Tell me again that we’ll be together. That you’ll serve the Prince and I’ll serve his brother. Tell me how it will be.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Then I will teach you,’ said Kallias, and kissed him.

seems like kallias figured it out

Standing two paces away, Kallias was holding Erasmus’s golden pin in his hand where he’d torn it from the silk.

oh.

‘You can’t serve the Prince now, you’re tainted.’ The words were sharp, jagged. ‘You’re tainted. You could scrub at it for hours and you’d never wash it off.’

‘You said you wanted to cross the ocean,’ said Kallias.

this... hits a little too close to some things for me. but i get what the story is saying, and i appreciate it, and it is very sad that this was the best option. i guess i'll just say that if you think any of those kinds of abusive indoctrination and conditioning tactics are normal and happening in your life, they're not normal, and they should not be happening. you deserve better. and you probably won't listen to me or even recognize that at all, because this is real life and institutions like this one do exist and entire lives go to waste and unlike in fiction you can't care about someone hard enough to change that if they don't care about themselves. anyway.

He would never wear a pin, but he would make an excellent table attendant, and perhaps a trainer himself one day, patient with the younger boys.

oh my god the trainers are slaves too.

Astacos said he saw soldiers speaking with Adrastus, asking for the names of all the slaves who belonged to Damianos. Everyone wearing a lion pin was taken away. That’s where we thought you’d be. Not here with us.

so i think kallias did what he did because he knew kastor’s plans and wanted to save erasmus’s life. but i also think, not even considering that, there’s a subtler implication of the tragedy of this existence, in which the closest thing to freedom is excommunication. it’s one thing to leave because you know it’s the right thing to do, even if it’s hard, and that’s not something people groomed and abused under these conditions would be able to just do. but to be sabotaged, in this case, is liberation. i think this story would have been just as effective, if not more effective, if it hadn’t involved kastor’s plot at all. an alternate conclusion: kallias drank the kool aid like erasmus and everyone else for his entire life, was the best of the best and sent to the prince, but then faced abuse and the harsh reality of kastor’s cruelty when serving him. he realizes that this is fucked up and tries to spare erasmus from the same fate, and the sadism from kallias is implied both in his dialogue and appearance, but erasmus himself does not understand. that would be effective without the twist of literally saving erasmus’s life because kastor is going to kill damianos's slaves. because when they're living like this, they don't even have lives to lose in the first place.

It occurred to him, stupidly, that Kallias would know what was happening, that he should ask Kallias, and that was when the screams began.

do you think kallias lived? kastor didn’t kill his own slaves, right? i feel like the story is trying to tell me that kallias dies here, but it doesn’t make sense why that would happen.

final thoughts:

again, i think this honestly would have worked better if the ending had not been the inciting events of capri, but either the implication that as kastor’s slave kallias would live a life experiencing sadism and physical abuse, or erasmus learning that kallias took his own life. i don’t know, i just think i want this to go harder on the institution, rather than this specific situation. yes, damen treated his slaves “well,” but i think the idea of kastor not doing so makes a lot of sense. and if the conclusion is “this system puts cruel people in positions where they can abuse people without free will,” rather than “kastor is bad and killed slaves even though they did nothing wrong,” it just works a lot better for me. i think this story is working on both levels, partially to tie it into the main series, but also quite frankly because this is a sexual fantasy for some people. to me, it's horror and tragedy, and hits way too close to real-life institutions to ever be anything but that. i am guessing that this story was written before prince's gambit and king's rising, where the series's stances become a lot more pronounced and the slave kink stuff becomes almost irrelevant.

the story is well-written, is saying something, and i don't think it's bad. upsetting fiction is not bad fiction. and the world building here does provide more context to the main series. but yeah, i don't see myself reading this short story ever again.

[ariadne-mouse]

I still haven't watched UNEND yet (no spoilers please) and instead spend the evening unwinding from my stressful work day by making emojis for the ship:

As with the previous emojis, feel free to use them on discord if you like! Just credit me if anyone asks where they are from.

[wanderingibon]

if you thought i'd introduce my rooksona with something epic and cool with immense lore... here's lucanis with cookie rook instead. i hope it captures the energy, and more

[whatudottu]

Welcome one and all to my version of the party's loopified designs, featuring my many broken bones and blood stains I especially put into Odile who I tackled second unlike the alphabetical order that I have presented here! I'll have in-depth discussions on each designs and matching practice portraits under the cut but before that-

Siffrin 'barely taller than a preteen' no middle name no last name Loop is still barely taller than a preteen but now that preteen can claim fire to their height!

Alphabetical order GO!

Bonnie, who I've been calling Bonfire (which if that ends up being their name I can imagine Bonnie calling them 'Fire' while they call Bonnie 'Face' to match), was the last of my designs because frankly I knew from the start what their design was going to take influence from and also knew I was going to draw fire :P They were based on bonfires (of course) and also specifically the Burning Man effigies just for a humanoid figure, plus being a chef cooker and a campfire and also a very heated expressive person.

Their flames are hot but not actual wood burning so the Favour Tree (and Mirabelle in the height chart) are not at risk of combusting, they're just incredibly bright-

Isabeau my first design, with influences from @basilpaste 's Lock (with a dressform body) and @nullapophenia 's original version of Husk (the faceless identityless sketch), I have combined them both to make a mannequin it/its loopified design that finally gets to be capital T Tall all for the low low price of being Changed against its will and suffering another bout of body dysphoria that it can't fix anymore :) :) :) When I was referencing mannequins I actually noticed how long their legs actually were let alone how they were perma-stuck in that Barbie-like highheel pose and thought why don't I just curse Isa with something he previously wanted :P

Something something Isabeau actively Changed not only his body but his personality to become someone he wouldn't be ashamed of, yada yada Loopsabeau is back to hating itself and has started to become a person it despises to match (also like a mannequin it's head and arms are technically painlessly removeable :P)

Third in order and third in design is Mirabelle, who technically is the only loopified design with technically hair and clothes, but the hair are the tangled roots of the Favour Tree and the clothes are like the carved hardstone statues of religious figures :P Initially my Idea for Mirabelle was to make her kinda like her statue, with the wonky expression of someone who made it without much mastery over details, not to pit anything against Mira, no, no. Thought about maybe abstract statue design but I couldn't find a version I liked but I did always imagine her statue being weathered in some way, there was a reason why I saved her for third I couldn't pick what I wanted. But then I remembered the broken Change God statues, thought about the 'blessing' that ended up being a curse, and then thought about overgrown weathering and gave her the roots.

I actually looked up Black hairstyles and mostly wondered what specific hair texture Mirabelle had (she wears it in a fro of course, but she has flyaways that aren't coils, but she described her own hair as kinky and :P) so that if I were to mimic hair with tree roots I can get an appropriate matching hairstyle (settled on megatwists). Hah, if Mira has 4C hair, considering how long her hair actually looks, if she to wear her hair in twists she might actually have elbow length hair :P

I spent 8 non-consecutive hours on Odile can you tell? Can you see my hands bleeding my wrist breaking my eyes drooping? Yeah so Odile was again, my second design and it took me a week to recover, and she's a combination of gem and mirror suit with all the little fragments floating around her the 'diamonds' that represent all her family members party plus the ones she originally had in sets of 2. I also put geodes where parts of her body have broken off (inspired by how when the King strikes she can't move, plus also being a glass canon) where when I was actually drawing those geodes that they kinda use the Change symbol?

Circle within a circle within a circle, regardless of how wiggly it is, and at the centre is a cluster of crystals. That was an accidental reference to Odile's mixed heritage but hoo boy what a connection! Her missing pieces are a combination of 'being too old for this' fragility and also 'i didn't want to render more mirrors sue me'

Anyway I am going to put my wrist in a cast and imagine loopified party members with their pre-wish counterparts :P

[yourfingeronmytriggers]

So I got something in my head that my brain won't let go of and thought I would inflict on share with you. :D

Imagine with me for a moment-

Lucy and Cooper on their New Vegas journey and they have a "moment" when he tells her about Janey and the way he's been looking for her for over two hundred years. And finally saying it out loud to someone has him getting stuck inside his own head and he starts thinking...

How he's not even fit to fill the role of parent anymore. Even back then, remembering how the public talked and whispered then shouted and booed, ending his career. How his wife turned into someone he didn't know and left him to die with a broken marriage and a broken heart in a broken world. How the media labeled him a threat to the public, turning him into a pariah almost anywhere he went. How Barb's powerful connections almost persuaded the courts to rule him "unfit", which nearly resulted in him losing all custody and never seeing his daughter again. How he's only become worse now, how he's a monster and a killer and if his daughter saw him now she'd probably scream in terror--

And then suddenly, just--

Lucy: "You're a good father."

And it's the first time he's heard those words in lifetimes.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

P5R Random Thoughts #3: Annoyance, Anger, and Conviction

Or, just a couple more random thoughts about Joker.

I actually do enjoy that Joker seems to sometimes get genuinely frustrated with his friends' antics - I don't know if it reads that way to anyone else, but a combination of his dialogue options and character model body language definitely reads that way to me.

He's gotten mildly annoyed with Ryuji's loudness on several occasions - often having dialogue choices that are essentially some variant of "keep your voice down!" Much as Joker feels what I suspect is quite a lot of gratitude for Ryuji's unflinching support and passion (he was his first friend in Tokyo, after all - no deal, just friendship), his dialogue options also become a lot more passive aggressive during early Kaneshiro arc - and small wonder, because Ryuji's eager carelessness actually did get them caught; thankfully by Makoto, and not law enforcement. Of course, he still cares a lot about Ryuji; I think he's just a little frustrated right now.

He's usually pretty chill with Morgana bossing him around - for what reason, I honestly couldn't tell you, but he does pretty much anything that not-cat recommends. However, when Morgana spontaneously invites Yusuke to stay with Joker without asking him, Joker kind of "!!" and looks at him. It's then followed up with everyone deciding to invite themselves to Joker's place, again, without asking him and Morgana encouraging it. The scene ends with Joker straight up elbowing/jostling Morgana in the bag after everyone's left for Leblanc. Pfft.

He tells Yusuke to hurry it up in Mementos when he gets too in the zone... and much as you can't rush an artist, they do near immediately get jumped by Shadows after that, so, you know, he does have a point.

Even with Ann, Joker frequently sweatdrops at her kind of out-there ideas of how to strengthen her heart. While I wouldn't call it annoyance, per se, there is at least one scene I can think of where two of the options straight up shut her down, and the last is basically a sarcastic "good luck with that", which Ann proceeds to take at face value as encouragement, leading to Joker sweatdropping once again. Lol.

So many of these are basically the equivalent of Joker going >:( at his friends and them typically completely not noticing which is funny as heck.

Also, because I'm the kind of person who loves to read into things, I think it can tell us a little more about Joker. What actually frustrates him here?

Drawing attention to the group in the real world - something he actively tries to avoid, at first, because of consequences for him, and then, because it puts the thieves at risk

Getting himself and the group into unnecessary trouble - so we've got two instances of Joker being mindful of potential consequences

People getting invited over without being asked first - this one's a little ambiguous as to why. Could be a simple courtesy thing, could be related to Joker's earlier obvious discomfort with people getting in his personal space without permission, could be that he likes his privacy. Personally, I suspect he's actually somewhat embarrassed and a little concerned about what his friends' reactions will be to where he's staying - I do have some reasons for this interpretation but ultimately, no matter what reason you ascribe, he's definitely not initially happy about this spontaneous invitation by Morgana.

I think we can even condense the first two and say that Joker seems to be a little more focused on outcomes and consequences than much of the rest of his group, who (before Makoto joins) very much people who act in the immediate moment. He's not quite on par with Morgana's brand of pragmatism, but he does seem to always be at least thinking ahead.

There are a few exceptions, however.

Joker's actual anger is something he is evidently not good at hiding. He has an excellent poker face, but his eyes and, apparently, the way he speaks give it away entirely. To hide his anger, he outright has to not say anything and obscure his face. That actually does not seem like someone who is especially good at hiding strong emotions, even if he can school the rest of himself.

Ann, of all people, has to make excuses for his obvious disdain towards a cop. Every single dialogue option is some flavour of snippy comment. His character model continues to stare directly at said cop, even after Ann interrupts.

He is not thinking about consequences here. Joker fucking hates cops, and he is either very bad at hiding it - or he has no desire to. A very similar thing happened with Kamoshida too. He has nothing but disdain for abusers with power and authority over those they hurt. He also outright doesn't trust the justice system at all after seeing how it failed him and so many others ("They do more than the cops" <-hello. on live tv no less.).

And this leads to something else that's actually a fairly interesting facet to his character that I'm curious to see if it'll get acknowledged in some way.

For the most part, despite the Metaverse confidence and flashiness (which I feel isn't a great metric anyways - all the thieves are like that), Joker responds to most compliments and successes by either complimenting the whole team in turn, or brushing it off as luck or not a huge deal. This is likely in part a cultural thing, but when it comes to genuine appreciation being shown, he does seem to have some semblance of humility about it all - which is why it's almost hilariously shocking how pushy he can be about helping others.

He chases after Ann because she's upset, even though initially she told him not to. He corners some of the students getting exploited by Kaneshiro and won't leave until they tell him the details, even resorting to playing into the rumours about him so that they'll talk. He overhears his confidants in some kind of trouble on several occasions and near immediately asks them about it, and then continues to bring it up if they don't elaborate. It's notable that these instances are some of the few things he decides to do himself, without Morgana's explicit encouragement. I suspect a lot of this is because he has so little faith in anyone else to do the right thing - he has no trust in the justice system, and most adults don't seem to care. But Joker cares, and he will listen to what happened, and he will do something about it, and he will help, and he does so by refusing to let up - he does not wait for someone to ask for help necessarily, he just kind of goes and does it. It's not like I can't see the rationale here, but it's also, kind of, a little bit... presumptuous, in a way.

Again, it's a fascinating contrast with his typical (at least apparent) humility, and his kind of wishy-washy dialogue from early game - Joker has always been firm about this.

The official forming of the Phantom Thieves at the buffet is a scene that really caught my eye for this. Again, much as Joker has the same level of anger as his friends, his answers are still largely "probably"s and "maybe"s. He "hadn't even considered" continuing to act as Phantom Thieves. But interestingly, there is one dialogue option that is stated with none of the usual hesitancy or vagueness - "I want to help people". <- It's the crux of his awakening. This is Joker's true conviction. And he's willing to do anything, be whoever he needs to be, to see this through. He wants to help. He can't bring himself to look away.

Asserting the Phantom Thieves' brand of justice is a conviction that arises later on through proof of the effectiveness of changing hearts, and as a natural extension of his growing familiarity and confidence in their methods. Joker nearly always needs a little push to get started, but once he gets going, he's kind of relentless. He doesn't seem to be truly all that angry with either Makoto or Akechi for their questioning of the thieves' justice (barring his initial reaction), but he does, again, get annoyed at the assumption that the thieves are somehow a threat to people who aren't inflicting harm onto others - Joker says the thieves only target "criminals", implying that even though others may see them as criminals themselves, Joker does not agree. And when Makoto winds up joining them, there appears to be no residual hard feelings from him - she's like them, and she's come around.

It's likely too soon for me to state with any certainty, but I do think that's what Joker is hoping for - that people will come around if he gives them undeniable proof that they help instead of harm. Every character has at least some "selfish" motive to being a Phantom Thief, in addition to the shared goal of providing courage for those left abandoned by society. Ryuji wants positive instead of negative attention for once, Morgana wants his memories, Ann wants to alleviate her feelings of guilt surrounding Shiho, Yusuke aims to understand the human heart, and Makoto wants to feel useful and needed. What about Joker?

He started off this story just trying to help. No one believed him. He was punished for "hurting" someone and there was nothing he could say or do that would convince anyone otherwise. It was his word against society's. And when the Phantom Thieves' motives are brought up, it's the same questions: aren't they going to hurt people? Aren't they dangerous and untrustworthy? And this frustrates Joker in a similar way to the rumours surrounding his own arrest, but now - now he has proof. Proof that they helped, proof that this works. It's undeniable, to him, that real good is coming of this. And so now he has a leg to stand on; he can actually argue his point by saying "the Phantom Thieves aren't like that; look at the people they're helping, and how the people who should've done something can't do half the good they do". It's no longer his word against the rest of the world. He's counting on people being unable to deny what they are forced to witness.

In a way, Joker now has grounds not just to plead the Phantom Thieves' justice... but also his own innocence and good intentions. His defense of their justice is also, I believe, a defense of his own ego, to an extent.

[lylahammar]

I've been rewatching the first two seasons of The Bear so I can watch the third season that just came out and man the character writing in this show makes me froth at the mouth it's like some of the best arcs I've ever seen in a TV series

[invinciblerodent]

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[hassianlovebot]

like on one hand i understand why people don't like subira at first, but i'm also getting tired of seeing people shit on her without actually getting to know her. and i know how that sounds, but she's literally fine. like yes death to cops but the in game order lady isn't the evil witch come to kill zeki and reth that everyone thinks she is. and they would know that,, if they did her quests,, or at least spoiled themselves and looked at the wiki,,,

it's getting embarrassing honestly

[doodlingwren]

Ok, back to girlblogging eheh (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[greyias]

There are two wolves inside of me for this scene before the big boss fight at the end of Act 2.

One is dying of feels over the dialogue options with Gale, and him deciding to choose you over everything else.

The other one is dying for a completely different reason

as all three of the big bads of this game start raising their rings to the sky, and shouting out their element

THIS IS THE FUCKING ABSOLUTE??? THIS??? Not the giant mass of tentacles that said my puny mortal self could never comprehend their being... but this absolutely silly looking brain with it's itty bitty wings and this glowing tiara from Claire's, like they're all about to go get shit faced for Absolute's bachelorette party?

A++++ I am here for this

[dkettchen]

more nimona comic reread things I am indescribably mad (for fantasy world building reasons more so than anything to do w rep) abt having been left out of the movie (part 1 - part 2):

BLITZMEYER MY BELOVED

director being a goblin, no hair, pointy ears, god I love that reveal, love her being a whole ass creachure

the fucking changeling replacing a baby lore aaaahhhh I forgot abt the actual backstory, it is so good, it is so myth based, I am a mythology nerd first and a minority person second you need to understand this about me as a person, she was a part of their community who happened to be something fundamentally different (and didn’t rly even know that herself) not an outsider other who happened to befriend one (1) of them, this is STILL the better trans metaphor

I am also still mad abt them changing literally everything abt ambrosius’s personality & backstory, where is my feisty long haired orphan boy and his dope face scars at the end smh