#pf status

[bearlytolerant]

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

There was a fun conversation happening in the Owlcat discord a while back where someone just could not understand why Iomedae is so against any mythic path that isn't Legend or Angel.

The two factions were Team 'Stupid Lawful Iomedae' and Team 'Stupid Writing' and unfortunately both of them are wrong. Trust me, my cousin's a lawyer.

It's not that being Lawful makes Iomedae stupid, it's that being Lawful means that she has to do some pretty heinous, backhanded shit to secure the legitimacy of her worship - and this is because that's what her church wants.

Throughout the game's narrative it's made abundantly clear that the Crusade isn't about preventing loss of life or retaking the blighted lands or even just saving people from horrible demise: it's about 'restoring order' and 'returning to the status quo,' for the purpose of insinuating Cheliaxian law on that region of Golarion. It's always been about expansion and conquest "done by the right people." It was convenient to sit for years letting the indigenous Kellids and Sarkorian population die out when the Wound first opened, so a Cheliax-backed conquering force could move in from their already established bases and annex all of that land for themselves.

That's why Lady Konomi is always pushing for the Knight Commander to kowtow to the Capital and the Capital's Allies in Cheliax. Mendev is excellently positioned to become an "ally" (read: vassal state) to Cheliax and secure their holdings in that central region - something that had already been in motion.

If you played Kingmaker, it was heavily implied (if not outright stated) that Pitax was the Chelaxian wedge in the River Kingdoms; losing that land to the suddenly extraordinarily successful barony-to-kingdom would have been a HUGE blow. Pushing even harder to have Mendev pick up the slack - especially with them being neighbors - would have been a major priority. It has never been about saving people.

Yes, by Gods, the Angel path does a lot of lip service towards the cause of the righteous, the inherent horror and sympathy of Galfrey's position, and the relative powerlessness of the Angelic Host to do much of anything without a mortal champion at the tip of the spear. But that mortal champion must also be aligned with the wants of the church, which are the wants of Cheliax. That mortal champion cannot be tainted by, say, a personal belief that slavery is wrong even if it is the law. Even if the Angel by their side also carries that belief*.

Demons are chaotic, and their hierarchy is lawless, therefore it MUST be Iomedae and her Crusade that heals the worldwound because that proves the rule of law. It doesn't matter to Iomedae and her followers that the Azata are often THE guys to go to for stopping demon incursions** - it's about proving that their method is superior, righteous, and good. Even if that means allowing slavery, standing by as an indigenous population gets wiped out, and outright stalling the war effort if it gets in the way of political landgrabbing.

@thedosianexplorer also makes a good point about how the Crusade in-game reflects the real-world historical attitude of 'Crusading as an Act Of Love:' "if the good townsfolk die while we're not stopping this demon incursion, as long as they already loved and followed Iomedae, so they're saved, so it's fine."

All this to say, I don't think this is a case of Stupid Character or Stupid Writing - it's very deliberate. I also personally theorize that the other reason Iomedae('s Church) is so obsessed with proving her legitimacy is because Iomedae personally took out Aroden to 'prevent him from falling to darkness.' Iomedae and her church are very 'if you have bad thoughts you are a bad person' so I feel as though presuming that starts with her icing Aroden because he was having Dark Thoughts isn't totally out of line here. Iomedae needed to kill Aroden because what else would she be if her God turned out to be corrupt?

*The Hand of the Inheritor's downfall during Act 4 is my favorite ingredient of this whole fucked-up recipe: He left the service of an angel that had risen from being a devil only to find himself in the service of a mortal-turned-god from the Slavery Is Good And We're Bros With Asmodeus Country. No wonder he freaks out so bad.

**I find it deeply compelling that even in our own real world cosmology, it's essentially Yazatas vs Demons and Angels vs Devils. So having the Angel faction come in and say 'actually we're way better for this job than you, and we're going to prove it and then everyone will see that the real righteousness is the righteousness of law' is a WILD narrative choice that I really jive with.

[potionwine]

Oooh, you’ve also seen Nirvana in Fire?!? That was SO good. And as inspiration for PF?? That, explains some things, dang! It works

My friend. My dear. My lovely Cimi—

WHAT in the world—

Have I seen the drama that bloody changed my life; my favourite comfort c-drama; the series that I rewatch yearly the way I rewatch lotr every Christmastime; that exquisite story with the most incredible breadth and variety of characters with impeccable character work and amazing themes and an ending that respects its viewers which however tragic is thoroughly earned and identity porn and politics and pride and grief, god, so much grief—and an Emperor who is shakespearean in his tragedy and—

Okay. Okay, no, you could not have known, tis a failure of my part if I have not spoken enough about it—I probably mostly reply to other people's posts as they liveblog their watching but. BUT. God when I saw your ask it felt like you came up to me to remark "hey wow so you also ship PF?" that's how gobsmacked I was lol!!!

I have dragged everyone in my life into watching this show! I have mutuals on here who can testify to my introducing them to it omg. I just checked and the earliest NIF post I reblogged was in 2016 so I have been watching it every year since 2016 hahaha!!! Although it's pretty complex chinese, and since so much of the show is made up of characters sitting around talking the intricate plot into existence, it's not really a beginner-friendly c-drama either!!!

NOW I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'VE WATCHED IT TOO???!!!

I. have. been. going. UTTERLY MENTAL. at the lack of anyone with whom I could talk about it? OR SO I THOUGHT. So many times I thought of going into our discord to be like "has anyone ever heard of NIF because hhhhhhh the phoenixflare resonance" or like "so is anyone into TGCF perhaps perchance mayhap???"——because heh. hehehehe. heheheh??? My fic is practically a NIF/TGCF mashup, it's a Lin Shu+Xie Lian!Joshua Rosfield & Jingyan+Hua Cheng!Dion Lesage——and I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I wanted to ask god please does anyone else see my vision please god does anyone?? but no one would even understand the references, and I couldn't even ask in areas (asian fandom) where there would be a higher chance of people knowing what crack I'm on because asian fandom is all about that...you know...that I loathe—and I have been in pain and I thought right well fine I'm writing the fic anyway it's fine if I have no one to scream about it with because I'm writing it and then I'll find fellow competence porn+politics enjoyers if they find my fic and—and.

God. What an earth-shattering message to receive in my askbox! You are some sort of miracle <3

Do you see it??? Do you see it? A boy who burned to death in an inferno as an innocent betrayed youth in a catastrophic event caused by his own family, his father slain, his entire clan (and all the troops under his banner) wiped out or scattered. A boy reborn after extensive and horrific injuries after an agonisingly long period of recovery: a ghost who crawled his way out of the gates of hell, the last of his broken once-noble house.

That boy's transformation into his new identity of Mei Changsu/Margrace. His off-screen discovery of the truth that led to Meiling/Phoenix Gate and his continued on-screen quest to learn more. His determination to hold the true culprits accountable at immense personal cost and suffering. His dogged persistence despite incredible odds and visibly failing health. Being surrounded by people who love him and want to protect him, and himself constantly undermining their efforts because his goals are more important than his health. (Because in truth he knows perfectly well that he won't survive, but he can make a difference while he is alive.)

Something that amuses me hugely is how Lin Shu and Joshua literally both come back as 宗主? I love it so much! They come back with the same title! Both of them come back as clan leaders of an organisation that obeys their every command! Margrace is the 不死鳥教団の宗主(=leader of the cult of the undying bird) and Mei Changsu is 江左盟的宗主(=leader of the Jiangzuo alliance).

AND. Hooooo yea this PF fic is just JingSu at this point because oh, a handsome, principled, prideful, and stubborn prince who is a decorated warrior famed for his numerous military accomplishments and the man who is essential to the success of Lin Shu's/Joshua's plans? The resurrected boy barging into his prince's life: no matter how insane it is to choose your side, still "I choose you, Your Highness Prince Jing"??? The fact that the undervalued prince has a history with our secretive ghost protagonist? And (arguably) frequently thought about and missed the bright boy he knew once upon a time in happier days—"I know you," says Dion Lesage without a shadow of a doubt, extremely normal of him to instantly recognise a dead boy he met 20 years ago?

Mutual admiration of each other's integrity and capabilities? Reciprocal faith and remembrance? The foundation of deep respect and enduring friendship, their shared goals and shared family??? I froth at the mouth. JingSu are cousins, PF are stepsiblings by their parents' marriage. Each pair is bound by destiny and by choice—other people have made choices that permanently entangled each pair's lives together forevermore (Joshua+Dion and Jingyan+Xiaoshu), and the choice they themselves personally made to choose each other—

DO YOU SEE THE VISION.

How difficult it is to pursue justice when everyone involved is family and how impossible it is for Lin Shu the nigh-extinguished Chiyan fire for Joshua, the guttering flame, to indict Jingyan's father the Emperor of Liang Dion's father the Emperor of Sanbreque of his crimes against Joshua's family without opening old wounds and hurting many loved ones in the process including Dion himself. The people directly responsible for the tragedies are related to the protagonists in one way or another! If Lin Shu Joshua ever wants resolution for his grief unending, he has to strike at his beloved's father, and plot meticulously to avoid all of the dangers of attacking such a powerful enemy.

(Of course, I acknowledge the critical difference in Jingyan's versus Dion's feelings about their respective fathers.)

Now if only Joshua had done the famous blizzard scene with Dion instead of letting him go off to carry out his ill-advised coup—"Xiao Jingyan! You stand where you are! If I don't stop you today, what are you going to do? What do you think you can possibly accomplish if you charge in to challenge imperial power like this? Do you think you can simply force the Emperor [to do what you want/change his mind about Anabella Wei Zheng]? You have honour and valour but why do you just not have brains! How many more people must be hurt, you tell me!"

Anyway Joshy doesn't have the insufferable smugness of Xiaoshu but he does absolutely have Xiaoshu's pride, the sort of pride that is not just personal pride but familial pride too (after all Joshua comes from extremely prestigious lineage)—just look at how he speaks to Ultima in every scene, his lordly manner. Joshua I think has more Consort Jing to him, and Consort Jing is only my favourite character in all of NIF, in a drama where I love every character to bits—steel in softness, ever gentle ever polite yet not to be bullied and not to be underestimated and also extremely perceptive and learned and patient. Extra sweet bonus that Consort Jing is also a healer. Elegant, restrained, and very repressed. Who knows the depths of Joshua's Consort Jing's grief and loss?

But you know, Jingyan, near the end he is completely in charge—the prince who was always a great and respected general on the battlefield is now more than that, he's directly taking responsibility for all of his people as their future ruler—that means thinking on multiple fronts and exerting control over all of the key governing officials, not merely his military officers. He's leading with confidence, and there's that little scene where he apologises to Xiaoshu for taking action on several plans without consulting him, and Xiaoshu says no, this is the way it should be, this is the correct state of affairs: you are the crown prince, and this is rightfully your arena. You lead, you decide, you command.

Jingyan now sees clearly, he's found out and accepted the truths of his father's role in the atrocity at Meiling and everything that happened back then. He rightly perceives the failings of his family and seeks to redress past wrongs and avoid repetition of past mistakes, he weeds his court of the corrupt and the cowardly, he's become the best possible version of himself: stronger than ever, not just a powerful wartime commander-in-chief but an inspiring leader in the imperial court, careful, thoughtful and politically up-to-speed, finally stable in his sense of self instead of being permanently stuck as that angry and lost and hurting child. He has renewed purpose, he possesses hope for the future, he is able to dedicate himself fully to what he truly believes to be right and act in furtherance of righteous causes—

Critically, this is the man he becomes only because Xiaoshu came back into his life to shake it up. Without Xiaoshu he wouldn't even have the opportunity or means or knowledge. The radiant and fiery boy who Jingyan missed all his life came back to save him. From the outsider prince without contacts or support within the imperial court->to the crown prince who has the court subdued within the palm of his hand. From his pitiful existence as a neglected, unfavoured prince, his lowkey constant simmering resentment, his half-dutiful half-forced obedience of paternal orders that chafe at his conscience->into the steadfast and self-assured prince who is capable of fighting for the betterment of his country and the rallying point for virtuous officials who share those aspirations. The drama shows the audience that Jingyan is unquestionably ready to assume rulership, and together with the person he loves most, they achieve their goals, they save each other and their country (by arresting its downward slide due to the rotten state of its governance).

It's just a strong headcanon of mine (albeit one that I can absolutely present extensive arguments for) but to me Joshua Rosfield is the one and only character able to perform that same abovementioned function for Dion Lesage. Catalyst, turning point, spark that ignites the fire—whatever you call it, this is salvation. It is beautifully poetic that both Lin Shu and Joshua are characterised by fire. They are the fires of change that burn away the old life: before their arrival, the two war princes exist in a state of wearying routine, long-suffering and almost hopeless. Both Jingyan and Dion are shackled by their stations and duties, both are unloved sons with virtually no chance of their circumstances improving without drastic action, and both are trapped in precarious situations where they are subject to the whims of their father (if their imperial fathers turn on them, it will result in irrevocable loss of their status).

Dion's position is weak in the Oriflamme imperial court—pretty sure this point isn't up for debate, since no one ever speaks up in support of him despite the obvious injustice of his ill-treatment. His degree of influence in the court is much, much, so much less than any reasonable person might expect someone who is literally Bahamut and crown prince to have. The Council of Elders and other officials stand by haplessly while he is progressively stripped of power in favour of Olivier. Nobody defends him, nobody objects. (Or maybe some did, and were eliminated.) Even Dion himself submits to the abuse despite inherently superior abilities. Career politicians know which direction the winds blow—they don't defy their Empress, meaning they are either her cronies or too fearful of her to make themselves a target by any raising any opposition. Added to that is the implication that Dion was often away for long periods—and as Xiaoshu explicitly tells Jingyan in the drama, the crown prince cannot leave the imperial capital untended because that is the surest way to lose power. Dion may be Sanbreque's mightiest weapon and revered by the populace, but in practice his political sway is almost negligible. He is not able to leverage himself effectively.

Don't get me wrong, for these reasons I extra extra love the canon portrayal of J*** obeying Joshua against her wishes and T****** obeying Dion against his wishes—I absolutely think their obedience is, to them, the truest and highest and final demonstration of their love and understanding of their respective masters. And both Joshua and Dion expected no less from them. [I've not typed the names out just in case the search function ends up capturing the post and putting it in their tags, not because I hate those characters; I just don't want to be uncivil within fandom.]

But the very point here is that, you know, sometimes you aren't supposed to leave someone just because they say so. Sometimes it is the worst possible course of action to obey someone just because they command it. Sometimes it is undesirable at best and disastrous at worst to support someone's every decision out of unchanging (if uncharitable, one might even say unthinking) loyalty. That is a fundamentally unequal relationship, and while beautiful in its own way, is also uniquely doomed. The truth is, Joshua was always going to pull that trigger, and Dion was always going to pull that trigger: the master was always going to sever the relationship. Those pairs were doomed as soon as they began, because one party can only ever say yes, and yes means the end, you see? That is The End, that is the final break. By their very subordinate nature and by their established personalities within the game, "yes" is the one and only answer J*** and T****** can ever or will ever give. Their master will say, "Leave me", meaning it is over, and they will reply, "Yes, I obey". Because this is the only answer that proves their devotion, leaving them totally incapable of changing the script. Both J*** and T****** knew it and played their parts to perfection, and my heart hurts for them.

In NIF terms, I reckon J*** is Gong Yu, and T****** is Lie Zhanying. Zhanying will follow Jingyan to the end, whatever it may be—in fact in one episode he explicitly says so, and his loyalty is never in doubt. He will go to his death if Jingyan orders it. He will always support Jingyan's decisions. He and the rest of Jingyan's men have been following Jingyan even when the prince was out of favour and cold-shouldered and constantly dispatched to safeguard the country's frontiers—inconvenient places where comfort is low and the environment harsh. Jingyan's favoured brothers live in the lap of luxury within their palaces (like Olivier), while Jingyan himself (like Dion) has always been at war. And as with Zhanying, T****** will never be able to change this status quo on behalf of Jingyan (Dion). For all his boundless dedication to his lord, Zhanying will never be able to improve his prince's standing in the court, never be able to secure more political power for his prince (unless his prince decides to revolt/coup), never be able to make his prince's father love or prize his prince.

It is not a problem of character or willpower or desire. It is, simply put, a problem of power. It is a problem of class. The servant rises as their master rises, and falls as their master falls. In other words, the servant's status is determined by their master's status. Zhanying is Jingyan's deputy. When Jingyan's status was elevated, Zhanying naturally also assumed commandership over more troop divisions because those were allocated to the prince by the Liang Emperor. (There is no doubt in my mind that T******'s status as second-in-command is because of Prince Dion. He's too young to have earned that position by gradual promotion through meritorious accomplishment. Unless you're telling me that the knights dragoon don't have a single officer above age 30.) Zhanying is invaluable to Prince Jing in security, in warcraft, and in a variety of generic daily tasks. However, he is part of the rigid imperial system and lower in the hierarchy. He may persuade his lord, but he cannot order him. He may disagree, but he cannot defy. He may privately despise the Emperor/Empress, but he cannot show it and cannot act on it (literally treason). His role is to follow and obey. If he does not perform that role for whatever reason, he fundamentally negates his utility to his lord.

Ergo, endgame Jingyan is only possible because his true equal and soulmate, his real zhiji, came back to challenge the status quo. In fact, came back to challenge him. It is not merely the fact that this person understands him above all, it is also the fact that this person has the ability to act on that understanding. Jingyan is technically also Xiaoshu's prince, master, and eventual Emperor—so where is the difference?

The difference is, Lin Shu is comparable in nobility. Lin Shu is the cousin of princes and the incumbent Emperor's nephew, Lin Shu was raised amongst the imperial household, and played and studied and fought and hung out with them as peers of roughly equal rank. In this respect Joshua actually outstrips Lin Shu: Joshua is a prince by blood, and had Rosaria not fallen (especially if Sylvestre had not risen to the throne), would have been higher status than Dion. It's a massive pet peeve of mine that so many fans in XVI fandom don't seem to realise that Joshua was crown prince? Everybody knows Dion is crown prince, but do they realise Joshua is the original? In the English version prologue, the knights do call him "prince" and "your highness". The Rosarian throne is Joshua's by right of birth. At the time of their meeting as children, Joshua outranked Dion. They were equals as Dominants of their nation, but Dion back then was the child of a Cardinal and not the child of Sanbreque's ruler at that time; i.e. he was not a prince and not in line for the Sanbrequois throne.

The other wonderful similarity is Lin Shu's and Joshua's statuses as outsiders to the system when they reintroduce themselves to Jingyan/Dion. As Jingyan's strategist, Lin Shu has more leeway with regards to making his prince listen to him and take his advice. But importantly, he is now Mei Changsu, and that means he is able to play outside of the system. The imperial system effectively cast him out when it killed him. The strict codes of imperial conduct no longer chain him as they chain those confined within its structure. As a free agent unlike Zhanying, he has the right and privilege of choosing his own master. That includes the right to leave or to change his mind. And although the prince's strategist is supposed to be subordinate too, Xiaoshu would never truly be subordinate in the same fashion no matter how many times he bows his head, because at his core he is still high nobility and it still shines through despite everything. His manners are still perfect. He still navigates life with the easy expectation that people will serve him. He grabs the Duchess' hand and yells at Prince Jing and gloats at Marquis Ning. It's all the little ways that remind the audience, over and over, that this man was raised as a posh lordling. You can remove the boy from the upper class but you can't remove the upper class from the boy. It's the same with Joshua. His manners are still court-perfect. He still moves through life accepting that he will be served. He may bow his head to Dion and call him "your highness" but he also takes the liberty of throwing himself at Dion for a hug. Because to him, the prince is not some lofty and untouchable figure to be addressed with unfailing deference, he's just a friend.

(I know T****** is minor nobility, to be honest Zhanying definitely is too. The deputies of high level royals aren't going to be commoners. But I don't think I have to explain the gulf between ruling class/a close blood relative of the monarch versus lower nobility.)

Joshua too is an outsider that isn't beholden to Sanbreque's Emperor in the way that all of Dion and his knights owe their fealty. Again in this respect Joshua has it better than Xiaoshu—Joshua is his own sovereign master, and that should impact his perspective, his sense of self, and therefore his behaviour with others and how he navigates the world.

Gong Yu... I think anyone who's watched NIF will know exactly why I say that J***'s counterpart is Gong Yu lol. I think the s/h/u/a/t/e/s want her counterpart to be Princess (Duchess) Nihuang and they certainly produce fanwork in that vein, and I respect them for it because fans be doing what they love and hooray for that. But..... she's Gong Yu.

For all these reasons I am utterly obsessed with a Joshua that pushes back at Dion. The person able to challenge the status quo and challenge Dion. An equal who listens to Dion's absurd speech in the palace at Twinside and calls utter bullshit, who says, "A matter for the imperial family? are you joking? that's my mother, that's my younger brother. an imperial matter for you to resolve? say rather, our family, OUR problem to resolve. You don't get to go off half-cooked to arrest or kill my mother without actual political strategies, notwithstanding your military capability to launch a coup. And also, what about your dad? However much I love you, my darling Dion, we have to talk about the way that you insist on poor little meow meowing your awful father because my dear old mum didn't do Phoenix Gate alone and she for sure didn't immaculately conceive Olivier."

Endgame Dion isn't satisfactory in several glaring ways and it annoys me hugely that even unto the end he never grapples with and confronts the truth of his father instead of the idealised version that lives in his head. It's a little bizarre how Dion's arc is often praised by fans, since it feels very incomplete to me. Or, well, fine, perhaps just unsatisfying (since XVI simply isn't his story). His deep-seated need to be loved by his father prevents him from seeing anything clearly, which is so ironic for the only character to possess a third eye in canon? His honour and his might have been squandered in service to a selfish, uncaring, and objectively bad monarch, yet despite how earnestly Dion wants to be a good prince to his people he seems wholly incapable of recognising this fact? His mind repeatedly shies away from his father's shortcomings. In one scene he calls his father out for words befitting a tyrant, yet ultimately he persists in the belief that his father simply needs to be saved from Anabella's evil influence as if Sylvestre Lesage isn't a 50-year-old adult man who schemed his way to the throne and killed a woman's whole family and happily married that woman to beget legitimate offspring with her.

Soooo....... I've just spoiled the whole plot of my fic but it's really just NIF nonsense as usual and that is actually extremely predictable of me. But honestly the spoiling is not a big deal, because as with NIF, fundamentally my story is not meant to be plot-twisty and suspenseful—the real storytelling skill of the NIF drama is that the audience should be able to quickly grasp the overarching plot with no difficulty because the pleasure of this particular type of story is to watch the protagonist achieve their heart's desire, step by delicious step. The objective of this type of story is to properly pay off what it promises. NIF=the wronged protagonist seeks justice. We already know Lin Shu will obtain justice by the end of the tale, what we are here to enjoy is the journey! Same really for IEM I reckon; by the end of chapter 1 Joshua's goals should be really obvious, and since my little fic will have the happy ending tag because I only ever write happy endings, the audience basically knows he'll succeed—it's very much a journey not destination kind of story.

Ooof the post is crazy long and took me 3 nights to compose an answer and I haven't even managed to go into any TGCF elements but that work mainly contributes to characterisation instead of plot. One of the craziest XVI scenes was the Hideaway's sickbay after Twinside, the genuine regret Joshua expressed and how he blamed himself for not reaching out to Dion sooner; now the Empire and her prince lie in ruins etc. Surely he remembers this is the country that destroyed his own? Surely??? What kind of person, robbed of home and throne, can find it in himself to respond with so much empathy and kindness? Sanbreque has now experienced pretty much the same tragedy they inflicted on Rosaria two decades ago, and isn't that just the funniest parody of divine retribution? Instead of viewing this as Sanbreque's just deserts, Joshua Rosfield pities them and wishes he could have helped them avert this disaster.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonderfully Xie Lian-coded. Something something someone who has been through the worst and nevertheless chooses goodness and kindness. Someone who intimately understands the ugliest and lowest depths that people sink to, yet refuse to lose themselves in that temptation even when vengeance would seem perfectly justified.

You've known for a long time now that I love a Joshua who is very similar to his mother. This is why lol. It's about that delicious, delicious contrasting foil. It is the difference between Jun Wu & Xie Lian, as it is the difference between Anabella & Joshua. That the indestructible integrity we see from Xie Lian or Joshua didn't come easy, they weren't born perfect, their ethics were tested and forged and earned through suffering the likes of which most people will never know. The person that they have each become is the sum of their choices actively made. In the canon of TGCF and XVI, both of these ex-crown-princes live on in disgrace, in circumstances best described as reduced and humiliating, their respective kingdoms fallen, their wealth and glory spent—but they are better and braver human beings than everyone around them, they are beautiful and noble souls, quiet and unacknowledged, and only Hua Cheng and Dion truly see and fully understand that (and therefore cannot help but love them utterly).

I've a few more thoughts regarding Joshua swirling around as captured in other Xie Lian posts: here, here, here, and here. Not sure if you know TGCF or are into it as well, but just leaving links to those posts here for my own benefit too. I've been gravitating towards phoenixflare comparisons in various hualian meta posts since early 2024 so clearly these concepts have been stewing in my head for some duration, but I haven't fully teased out what it is about these two ships that gives me that niggling sense of connecting similarities.

^ Whereas I clearly know exactly what it is about JingSu that makes me point and holler "THEM!"

[potionwine]

#ethically i am opposed to monarchies and empires. i think being born into a royal bloodline is inherently traumatising #which makes for the juiciest tastiest drama in stories obviously #either you become a bad ruler and people will suffer at your feet. or you become a good ruler and you no longer belong to yourself #how much will you sacrifice at the altar of your ideals? #It Compels Me. Narratively

(tags from op)

#I read 2 stories about royalty/nobility recently #And one of the central things in both of them was like #You can't choose your own life because you were born into the job and nobody will let you be anything else #And I think the contrast between having immense power and yet very little agency to exercise it is compelling

(tags from tlitookilakin)

ok so i think that my favourite fantasy subgenre is The Inherent Tragedy Of Being Born Into Royalty. which mostly means that i like to read about gay princes but with some nuance

[leos-spot]

Please, I've been on my knees, change the prophecy. Don't want money, just someone who wants

✨ MY COMPANY ✨

[khywren]

「 Oathbreaker 」

summary: Her brazen defiance of his allegations and her insistence on proving her piety has angered Astarion in a way he can't quite put into words, but he knows that the way she rejects what he knows so intimately to be true in service of her own self-preservation is maddening and incompatible with reality.

“You vex me.”

━ ◆ ━

Or, Paladin Tav's insistence on helping everyone the party comes across irritates Astarion to no end. He decides to test the limits of her virtue.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader rating: 18+ MDNI status: complete tags/warnings: oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, shameless smut, hate sex/angry sex, rough sex, dirty talk, biting, brief mentions of past trauma/abuse, reader insert word count: 4.7k spoiler warning: minor spoilers for astarion's past through act 1.

a/n: cross-posted as always from AO3.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s nearing dusk when the party decides to stop and make camp for the evening on the edge of the forest that they’ve just spent the last several days trudging through tirelessly. As they emerge wearily from the trees, Tav is the first to spot the small stone building at the crest of a small hill and can barely contain her excitement as she recognizes the colors adorning its walls.

“I can’t believe there’s a temple of Tyr all the way out here,” she says, finding a sudden surge of newfound strength as she bounds towards the foot of the hill. Her exhausted party follows after an exchange of disgruntled looks, lest there be some sort of ambush waiting for them inside.

As endearing as she often is, Tav is nothing if not recklessly optimistic.

The temple is thankfully deserted, and they all take a quick look inside before most of them excuse themselves to make camp. Tav, however, lingers after the others have left. As a paladin who has dedicated herself to Tyr, she is thankful to have found a place to stop and offer her prayers – and hopefully receive some blessings for the long journey ahead of them.

As the heavy oak doors swing shut, Tav suspects that she is alone, but a small noise alerts her and she turns to see Astarion not too far away, watching her carefully.

She’s surprised he’s still here.

“I didn't take you for a religious man, Astarion,” Tav says. She approaches the altar in the center of the temple, draped with the familiar blue and gold colors that represent Tyr and his followers. Overhead, twin banners frame a marble statue of Tyr himself, the fabric emblazoned with the golden hammer and scales that signify his creed of law and justice.

She bows her head in reverence, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“I'm not,” Astarion says blandly, making his way lazily throughout the open hall. “Call it mere... curiosity. But go on, don't let me distract you.”

He waves his hand dismissively, but Tav pauses what she's doing anyway and beckons him towards her.

“Would you... like me to show you how to pray?” she asks him. “You could do with a little positive influence.” The smile she offers him is kind.

“Tempting,” Astarion says, placing his index finger on his chin and pretending to consider the offer. “But I'll pass. You've already got the market cornered, I'm afraid.”

It's clear he has no intentions pf humoring her, and she heaves a heavy sigh.

“It wouldn't hurt you, you know - to be a little kinder,” she admonishes. “You can't solve all your problems with a dagger.”

His eyes gleam playfully as a graceful smirk slides effortlessly across his face. “That's what the short bow is for, darling.”

It's all Tav can do not to glare at him. She settles instead for a less enthusiastic scowl, her face full of disappointment.

“Must you always be so frustrating?”

“I prefer the term ‘pragmatic,’” Astarion quips back, not missing a beat. “It's all part of my charm.”

“Look,” Tav says evenly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “All I'm saying is that maybe if you acted a little more heroic every once in a while, you'd realize that people are far more receptive to kindness than violence.”

Astarion huffs and rolls his eyes. “Those who claim to be heroes are either fools or martyrs,” he says simply. There is no inclination that he's being insincere with his words.

“This world is full of nothing but cruelty, and those who take advantage of that fact will always use that power to bring the weak to heel.”

It's a simple fact of life that has been ingrained into Astarion in the most painful way for the last two hundred years of his life. It is, perhaps, the greatest truth that he knows.

Tav's naive valor has always been one of her most exhausting traits, Astarion thinks grimly.

Tav, meanwhile, expresses her indignation as she turns sharply on her heel to face him, brows knit and her lips drawn tight.

“You're wrong, Astarion,” she says sternly. “There are plenty of good people out there, people like me, who –”

Astarion interrupts her retort with a mocking scoff and stalks closer to her, the soft sound of his boots across the stonework the only sound he makes. He levels a glance at her, and when she meets his eyes she find them full of menace.

“People like you?” he parrots back. “You don't seriously expect me to believe that you risk your life for every wretched soul who stumbles across your path purely out of the goodness of your heart.”

Tav has never seen him this upset before. She can practically feel the anger radiating off of him now, his whole body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. 

She isn't sure what to make of it and doesn't have the time to consider why this, of all things, seems so personal to him before Astarion suddenly relaxes his posture, as if he's trying to regain his composure.

Astarion narrows his eyes and regards her silently, and she feels as though he's staring right through her. The tadpole in her head squirms suddenly, and she has the inkling that he's considering trying to pry his way into her innermost thoughts to drag the truth from her if she will not freely give it to him.

Then as quickly as it came, the sensation fades, and Tav's mind steadies, though the exchange has set her on edge.

“You have something to gain, just like everyone else,” Astarion concludes. “The only difference,” he says with a wry smile, “is that you're hiding behind righteous selflessness. I, on the other hand, have no such compunction.”

Tav considers his words carefully, the accusation that she is only helping other people because it somehow benefits her own sense of self-worth cutting her to the bone.

She's angry because she knows there is some truth to what he's saying, but she won't give him the satisfaction.

“No,” she bites out, “I help people because it's the right thing to do. I swore an oath to defend those who can't defend themselves. That alone is reward enough.”

Astarion seems to sense her deception and seizes on it. The smirk on his face is nothing if not wicked as he leans in close, his brows arched.

“Really?” he says. “Then I have to wonder, how long did it take for you to become so blindly obedient that you no longer allow yourself to act on your own self interests?”

His voice lowers an octave, and when he speaks again it sends a cold shiver down her spine.

“No matter how much you'd like to do otherwise?”

He could almost laugh at the irony of his words if the reality wasn’t so tragic. The obedience he sees in her, a sick, twisted reflection of his relationship with Cazador, is enough to make him seethe with rage. The only difference is that Tav had a choice - she chose to surrender her autonomy when he never had that luxury.

Tav rounds on him now, her face hot with anger.

“That's not true! Just because I choose to follow Tyr's teachings doesn't mean that I don't have free will. I'm not a slave.”

Astarion bristles as the word leaves her mouth.

She doesn't know, she couldn't know, but it doesn't make her words any less destructive.

He's towing over her now, his expression dark. When she tips her chin up to look at him, Tav flinches at the scorned look on his face. In the back of her mind, a voice tells her to run, but she reasons with herself that Astarion, as prickly as he can be, would never hurt her.

Instead, she steels herself and gathers the courage to stare him down.

“You're wrong,” she repeats again.

“Then prove me wrong,” he snarls. “Do one thing, just one, that you want to do just for the sake of doing it. Not because you think it will win the favor of some pathetic god who probably doesn't even care that you exist.”

Tav ignores the casual dismissal of her beliefs and does something that surprises even Astarion. Fisting her hand in his doublet, she grabs Astarion firmly and tugs him forward, crashing their lips together in an awkward, clumsy kiss.

His lips are cold to the touch, a detail that she had not anticipated, and she considers pulling away. After all, her point has been made, has it not?

The kiss feels liberating, in a way. Astarion had been shamelessly flirting with her since the first night they made camp, and despite her repeatedly rebuffing his advances, it was never because she hadn't found him suitable to her tastes.

But Astarion's hand is immediately behind her back, holding her firmly against him and preventing her from escaping. He presses his mouth against her as tongue glides across her lower lip, a growl rumbling low in his throat.

When Tav parts her lips to suck in a breath, Astarion plunges his tongue into her mouth, tasting her with a hungry fervor. The hand on her back crushes her against his body, and she kisses him back, gasping breathlessly as she feels the sudden prick of his fangs.

Astarion's grip on Tav's thighs is possessive as he hoists her up onto the altar, scattering the unlit candles and other trinkets in his way. The sharp edge of the stone bites into her skin, granting her a moment of clarity. She realizes his intentions as Astarion fumbles impatiently with the leather straps of her armor, tugging at the buckles on her waist.

“Astarion,” she says, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, “we shouldn't – it's not proper – not here.” She casts her eyes up to the statue of Tyr that looms over them, its cold marble eyes watching them in silent judgement.

“And why not, love?” Astarion says smoothly, freeing the last buckles of Tav's cuirass and casting it hastily aside. It hits the floor with a muffled thud, and his fingers quickly turn to the buttons of her undershirt.

“I can think of no better place for you to give yourself up as an offering.” 

When Astarion cranes his neck to look at Tav through half-lidded eyes, he flashes her a sly smile, his fangs bared.

“I will enjoy corrupting you,” he croons softly. “I do so hope Tyr will be watching as you come apart for me.”

The way he says it sends a tendril of searing heat directly to her core, and she feels herself growing desperate and needy. The slick arousal between her legs betrays any remaining reluctance she had left, and she gives up trying to talk him out of taking her in such a sacred place.

Astarion tugs fervently at the buttons on Tav's shirt, but he's not making progress fast enough. In a bout of frustration, he balls his fists up in the fabric and callously wrenches it open, scattering the remaining buttons as the shirt tears beneath his hands.

Tav makes a short noise of protest for her ruined shirt, but Astarion silences her with another punishing kiss and pushes himself between her open thighs.

After shrugging out of his doublet, Astarion makes quick work of Tav's shirt and her underclothes, which swiftly join the unceremonious pile with Tav's discarded leathers.

Her brazen defiance of his allegations and her insistence on proving her piety has angered Astarion in a way he can't quite put into words, but he knows that the way she rejects what he knows so intimately to be true in service of her own self-preservation is maddening and incompatible with reality.

Too many times Cazador had taken advantage of Astarion. Too many times he had tortured and used him for his own personal gain, and not once did anyone reach out to intervene. 

Not once did anyone save him from his suffering. Not until the mind flayers snatched him right out from under Cazador's clutches and implanted the godsdamned parasite in his brain.

“You vex me,” mutters bitterly, brows furrowed.

Tav regards him curiously, her expression questioning, but she says nothing.

When Astarion presses his face into the crook of her neck and his lips find her pulse point, Tav hitches a breath and her body moves of its own accord, her back arching into him as though it craves the contact. The cold from his pallid skin seeps into her body, and when his hand trails up her torso before finally cupping her bare breast, she lets out the moan she's been holding back since he first returned her kiss.

Astarion grins triumphantly against Tav's neck and presses his fangs into the soft, smooth skin above her carotid artery. 

She's no better than the rest of them. Defiant as she is, she's succumbed to him like so many others before her.

There is no true good in this world, he reminds himself. Only those who take advantage and those who allow themselves to become their prey.

The hand on Tav's breast squeezes roughly as his fingers find her nipple; when he pinches the tender bud, Tav cries out beneath him, writhing in pleasure. She grasps at him feebly, one hand tangling in his hair as the other finds purchase in his tunic.

“Tell me,” he muses, “why did you let me have your blood that night?”

“I - what?”

Tav wills herself to focus on his question, eventually realizing that he's talking about the night he had tried to bite her when everyone else was sleeping. He had asked so sweetly to let him drink her blood, she remembers. Of course, she hadn't been able to say no to him.

“Was it pity?” Astarion sneers. “Did you see me as yet another one of your little charity cases?” His tone is scathing and dripping with venom. 

Tav sees no point in lying to him any longer, not when he already knows the truth. 

“You said you needed it,” she responds flatly. “I was only trying to help.”

“How predictable,” he scoffs. “I don't need your pity.”

With his free hand, Astarion grips Tav firmly by the chin and forces her head to the side, baring the full column of her throat to him. She anticipates his bite before it happens, and when his teeth sink into her neck it feels like ice being injected into her veins.

Tav moans pitifully as Astarion's tongue laps over her skin to encourage the flow of her blood, and she can hear him swallow greedily as it surges into his mouth.

A thin rivulet of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth and Tav feels a few crimson droplets pepper her chest, causing her to shudder as they grow cold on her skin.

Desperate for something more substantial to cling to, Tav throws her arms around Astarion's body, digging her nails into his back and dragging them across his shirt, hard enough to leave marks even through his tunic. 

Astarion groans at the sensation but does not stop her.

He drinks greedily from her veins, gorging himself on her blood, feeling the warmth flooding through his body. The taste is just as he remembered, so sweet and agonizingly addictive.

It requires a great effort for Astarion to pry his mouth away from Tav’s neck. When he finally wills himself to pull back, she looks up at him through dark, unsteady eyes, her lips parted to allow her shallow, panting breaths.

He draws his thumb over his mouth and gathers any remaining traces of blood before running his tongue across it, savoring every last drop.

“Exquisite,” he breathes. “But now… I have to wonder if the rest of your sinful little body is as delectable as your blood.”

Tav moves without hesitation, unlacing her boots and kicking them off. Astarion’s hands are already at her waist, tugging at her pants and underwear. She lifts her hips just enough for him to yank them down around her ankles, where they fall forgotten to the floor.

When Astarion kneels before the altar, she lets him spread her legs even farther apart, wide enough to bare her body to him. She’s already trembling with anticipation, and she can tell by the pleased noise he makes that he’s noticed how wet she is before he’s even touched her.

“Look at you, sweet thing,” Astarion purrs. “Look how eager you are to have me. You want it, don't you? My mouth on you, tasting you, savoring every last bit of your needy little cunt?”

He drawls out the last few words in a low, possessive tone, and Tav struggles not to whimper.

“Oh gods...” she croaks. “Yes, Astarion. Yes.”

When Tav feels his mouth on the inside of her thigh, she bucks her hips, frustrated by the way he’s purposefully stalling before giving her what she wants.

“Please,” she whines, reaching to grab his hair and push him where she needs him most. Astarion avoids her grasping hands and snatches her wrists in his hand, holding her firmly.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Patience.”

Astarion slowly drags his lips across her thigh as he continues to tease her, occasionally nipping her sensitive skin as he continues his torturous path. When she’s all but certain she’s going to explode, he finally gives in, releasing her wrists as his tongue slides through her slick folds and flicks against her aching clit.

“Fuck, Astarion –!”

Tav keens against him as her body ignites under his mouth, her nerves alight with arousal as he sets to work at pleasuring her, his lips and his tongue bringing her almost immediately to the edge of orgasm. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and she whimpers incoherently, gathering her hands in the blue and gold drapery still strewn across the altar.

Astarion slowly drags his tongue across the slick heat of her core, grazing her entrance. When she feels his tongue probe inside of her, her back arches sharply, and he splays his hands across her waist to keep her from moving.

“Stay still,” he hisses, digging his fingers into her hips.

When Tav appears to comply with his demands, Astarion returns his attention to her clit, using the flat of his tongue to press into her and swirls the tip in practiced, lazy circles. Before long, he presses two fingers inside of her, stretching her open with slow, languid thrusts.

Damn him for being so good at this, Tav thinks sourly, tipping her head back and indulging in the feel of him against and inside her. She knows she’s already lost whatever moral advantage she had over him, and she realizes with only a little shame that she can’t even be bothered to care anymore.

Maybe he was right. Maybe restricting herself this entire time had been nothing but folly. She doesn’t want to interrogate what that means for… well, everything moving forward.

So instead, she focuses on Astarion as he sends wave after wave of pleasure cresting over her, pulling her closer and closer to the edge. She can feel her orgasm building, and as he curls his fingers inside of her, Tav feels her legs begin to shake and prepares herself to give into him completely and let herself go.

The whimper she makes when he suddenly pulls away from her and leaves her gasping and desperate is nothing short of obscene. Astarion rises to his feet, and she searches his face for an explanation, her pupils blown wide as she tries to focus on his face.

“Why –?”

“Not yet,” Astarion answers her bluntly. “I'm not yet through with you.”

He flips Tav unceremoniously onto her stomach and grabs her around the waist, yanking her back so that her legs hang over the side of the altar far enough for her feet to find purchase on the floor. She can hear him behind her as he slips his tunic over his head and unlaces his trousers, the soft leather gliding quietly over his body as he sheds the last of his clothes.

His cock springs free and Tav feels its heavy weight against the swell of her ass as he slides behind her, trailing a single icy finger down the curve of her spine.

“Fuck you,” she grits out through clenched teeth, shifting to make herself more comfortable.

“Ahh,” Astarion says, an amused lilt to his voice as he laughs quietly. “So the little pup has a bite after all. That's good.”

He lifts one of her legs onto the altar to give him better access to her body and spreads her slick folds apart with his fingertips. Tav feels him guide the blunt head of his cock to her entrance, and she groans in frustration, pushing her hips back into him impatiently.

“Astarion... gods, just fuck me already.”

“So impatient,” he scolds her, his fingers digging into her thigh. “But very well. As you wish.”

He slams into her in a single thrust, and Tav moans loudly at the sudden intrusion, his cock stretching her wide as what was initially a sharp pain melts away into pure pleasure. He’s already so deep inside her, and she can feel his cock twitch as he adjusts to her tight, wet heat.

Astarion wastes no time setting a punishing pace, fucking into her hard and fast, coaxing a string of filthy noises from her with every thrust of his hips.

He pins her effortlessly to the altar, one hand secured around her waist and the other pressed between her shoulder blades. The obscene, wet slap of their bodies coming together echoes loudly in Tav’s ears, and she buries her face into the altar in a vain attempt to muffle her cries.

“You're taking my cock so well, pet,” Astarion groans. “What must Tyr think of you now, laid out as you are and moaning like a common whore?”

 Tav shoots a scathing glance at him over her shoulder, her teeth bared in a snarl.

“Gods, do you ever stop talking?” she mutters. “You're the last person who should be lecturing me about morality.”

“Hmm, have I struck a nerve?” Astarion asks. “My sincerest apologies.”

His tone is nothing but derisive, and Tav feels her anger rising yet again.

“Asshole.”

Astarion responds by smacking her ass roughly with the flat of his palm, leaving a bright red mark on her skin. The sting and the heat that accompanies it makes her bite her lip, even as she yelps in pain. But she holds her tongue, nevertheless, lest he repeat the punishment.

“And such a mouthy little thing you are. If I had known how feisty you were,” Astarion says, “I would have done this so much sooner.”

His hips continue their relentless pace, snapping into her with enough force to push her across the altar, and several times Astarion grabs her by the hips and pull her back again so that he has enough leverage to fuck her as deeply as he wants to.

Her body feels so incomprehensibly good, and as Astarion continues to pound into her, he feels the tension in his body start to dissipate. If only Tav could see the state she’s in now, so thoroughly disheveled and at his mercy. It gives him endless satisfaction to know that even she can be ruined in such a manner despite all her noble claims of virtue.

Presently Astarion tangles his fingers in Tav’s hair and tugs her body upright, so her back is flush against his chest. She braces herself against the altar with splayed palms, struggling to hold herself up as her aching limbs threaten to give out beneath her.

Astarion can sense her failing strength and wraps an arm around her body as he adjusts himself inside of her, thrusting up into her as he holds her firmly, his hand pressed against the base of her throat. With his spare hand, he brushes the hair away from her shoulder and slots his mouth over her skin once more, sinking his teeth into her tender skin.

Tav cries out weakly as Astarion finds himself indulging in her blood for the second time that evening, pacing himself so that he doesn’t take too much from her. He’s already had more than his fill, and yet he still wants more – he needs more. The sweat on her skin mingles with the heady taste of her blood, and he feels positively intoxicated on her, unable to deny himself the pleasures of her body.

Despite her outbursts, Astarion feels that he should reward her for being so good for him, and he slowly slides his free hand down the length of her stomach, his fingers finding her clit as he teases her back towards sweet, blissful oblivion.

“Fuck, you look so good beneath me,” he groans. “As righteous as you claim to be, darling, you will come on my cock all the same.”

“A-Astarion...” Tav moans, each syllable of his name punctuated by the thrusts of his cock inside her.

“Louder,” he commands, his fingers busy with pleasuring her as he places deceptively affectionate kisses across her shoulder blades, sending a jolt of indescribable pleasure directly through her.

“Let Tyr hear you. Let them all hear you.”

“Astarion...!” Tav rasps out his name, more audibly than her last attempt, her throat raw.

“Almost, love,” he croons.

His fingers swipe across her clit now in just the right way, and his cock hits her sweet spot with one particularly deep thrust inside her.

“Astarion!”

She cries his name with every ounce of energy she has left, begging him to grant her the release she needs. At last she finds it, her entire body shaking as she comes hard for him, her body clenching tightly around his cock.

Astarion keeps up his frantic pace as Tav comes undone around him, his fingers once again gripping her hips with a force that she knows will leave bruises behind. He buries his face in her neck once again, inhaling the scent of her blood as he rides out his own orgasm, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside of her.

Tav can feel him growing soft after a few moments, and he pulls out of her, leaving her to slump to her knees against the altar, her chest heaving as she pants heavily.

Astarion gathers the drapery on the altar and uses it to clean himself off; Tav scowls indignantly at him but he ignores her, long past the point of continuing their disagreement. He dresses silently, almost too casually, as if nothing of note had just transpired between them. With one last smoothing of his clothes, he runs his hand through his hair to style his trademark curls back into place, his face a perfect mask of indifference.

“That was… rather enlightening,” Astarion says flicking Tav a teasing glance as she gathers up her clothes and begins to make herself decent. “Perhaps I’ll turn to religion after all.” “You are absolutely incorrigible,” Tav responds with a grimace.

“Undoubtedly,” Astarion smirks, “but that certainly didn’t stop you from enjoying me, did it?”

He dismisses her angry huff with a wave of his hand and turns to leave as Tav rises to her feet and begins to dress herself. Her undershirt is in tatters, but she dons it anyway, hoping her leathers will hide the evidence of her shame when she returns to camp.

She tends to the mess they’ve made of Tyr’s altar with hurried hands – the less time she has to spend here, the worse she thinks she’ll feel about the whole ordeal.

When the pair of them rejoin the rest of the party, the group is none the wiser, too caught up in setting up their own tents and getting ready for bed. She can feel Astarion’s eyes watching her from across the camp as she does the same, and her tadpole wriggles behind her eye as Astarion reaches across the psionic bond that links their minds together.

“Sleep well, darling,” his voice echoes in her mind, smug and self-satisfied. “Try not to miss me too much.”

[ask-the-cat-cafe]

MASTERPOST

Status: we're getting back on track..

The banner was made by: @mewovivi

pfp by @chrono-swatch

This blog is ran by: @kristinhateslife

Main so far:

Ccino and fluffytale belong to @black-nyanko But! The verison I am using (my own version, Fluffytale 2.0) is a story by me

Nightmare : Joku

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Neil: Joku

Core: DokuDoki 

Lux: Jakei originally but idk who now

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[thecreaturecodex]

If I Ran the Zoo: Energy Types

"Experimental Overload" © Wizards of the Coast, by Lie Setiawan. Accessed at Art of MtG here

Pathfinder 1e is built off of the chassis of Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 edition. And early in the game’s life especially, backwards compatibility was a priority. Which means that some bad decisions that D&D 3e made were grandfathered into Pathfinder 1e, and then were revised in PF2e. Energy types are one of them.

The canonical five energy types in PF1e are acid, cold, electricity, fire and sonic. Sonic damage is very rare, as is sonic resistance. There are other effects that deal damage in ways that are similar to energy types, like positive and negative energy and force damage, but are not defended against in the same way.

And then there’s poison. In previous editions of D&D, poison did hit point damage for the most part, unless it just instantly killed your character. There’s a lot of instant-kill poisons in AD&D. So it might have seemed like a good idea to change that, and to showcase the new concept of ability score damage, by making most poisons deal ability score damage. In actual practice, this means that characters have to recalculate a lot of their statistics every time they take damage from poison, slowing down play. And for low level characters without access to lots of lesser restoration spells, a fight with venomous monsters may result in days of downtime to recover. Not so great for the story driven heroic fantasy model that most D&D and PF games default to.

Both Pathfinder 2e and D&D 4e course corrected from this model, and made poison a type of energy damage. In PF2e, flat penalties to particular rolls are inflicted with status conditions like weakened and stupefied. In D&D 5e, penalties to abilities are very rare.

So, in the same spirit as PF2e and D&D 5e, I am going to make some revisions to the energy types. The Codex is going to use these energy types going forward, and I intend to go back over some older monsters in order to apply them retroactively. Mostly in terms of using the terms “mental” and “radiant” on previous monsters, but also changing some monsters that deal acid damage to poison (because that was already a change made in adaptation, so I’m changing it back) or changing the poisons of some monsters, particularly low CR monsters, from dealing ability damage to hit point damage.

Homebrew Rules: Expanded Energy Types There are eleven energy types, split into two categories. The five energy types that are the most common in nature are referred to as the primal energies—acid, cold, electricity, fire, poison. The six energy types that are more common in the Great Beyond and are controlled with magic are the esoteric energy types—force, mental, positive, negative, radiant and sonic. Positive energy typically heals the living and negative energy typically heals the undead.

Spells in PF1e that grant energy resistance, such as resist energy and protection from energy, give their full protection against the primal energy types only. Against most esoteric energy types, they give half of their normal protection. For example, a resist energy spell cast by a 3rd level caster can grant resistance 10 to acid or fire, but only resistance 5 to mental or radiant damage. These spells grant no resistance to force damage. Spells that only protect against specific energy types, such as draconic reservoir, are unchanged.

Dwarves and other playable species that gain a bonus on saving throws vs. poison gain resist 5 to that energy type as well. The breath weapon of green dragons deals poison damage, not acid damage.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello, so maybe I’m misunderstanding something based on the bits and pieces I know about ethics and philosophy :what kinds of things constitute as morally good? You said and someone else said health is morally neutral. Which I get the individual part but wanting for others to be educated and healthy I thought * would be examples of moral goodness?¿ Help me to see more pf your point if you are willing

okay, let's talk about education and health.

those are both really big factors in a lot of people's lives, and of course it's good when people have access to opportunities for education and healthcare. I'm not arguing against that at all.

but there is no component of morality to people's level of education or health. attending college, for instance, does not make someone a better person than someone who dropped out of high school. a person with a college degree is likely to have access to better-paying jobs and impact their quality of life, sure, and higher education is desirable to many people because of that; totally understandable. but that's completely different from what I'm talking about, which is whether or not being educated is innately virtuous, which it's not. at an early age, especially, education is something that happens mostly at random, determined primarily by the opportunities available to the family someone is born into.

health is something that is moralized RELENTLESSLY, especially in American culture. many fat activists talk at length about how fatness is seen as a failure of both health and morality - the assumption being that a.) fat people are innately unhealthy and b.) a responsible person would make an effort not to be fat and therefore not to be unhealthy - and that's only one particularly visible example. think about the tendency, for instance, to suggest that people who die of COVID must deserve it based on assumptions made about their masking/vaccine status, as if thousands of people who took every possible precaution didn't also die. in my field, sex education, there's also a TERRIBLE tendency to stigmatize people with sexually transmitted infections and treat them as dangerous, irresponsible, and undeserving of sex of physical intimacy, the most prominent example being the AIDS epidemic during which many people very literally believed that the epidemic was a divine punishment for the "sin" of homosexuality.

of course, health has nothing to do with morality. terrible people live long and healthy lives, the kindest and most selfless people you'll ever meet die in agonizing pain from preventable diseases. similarly to education, it's largely determined by social position.

similarly, activities considered "healthy" carry no moral weight. if you want to eat your veggies or run marathons or never smoke a day in your life, awesome! that's great for you! and I'm right there with you, I love veggies and yoga and rock climbing and all kinds of activities, and I myself don't smoke. but nothing about any of those activities are like, divinely virtuous and make you a certifiable better person than someone who never exercises and lives on cheese and weed. that person is equally allowed to do that and is not an inferior person for choosing that path for their life.

again, healthcare and education are important to many people's quality of life, but they're human rights, not moral measurements.

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Zon-Kuthon: The Prince in Chains

CR 15

Lawful Evil Huge Outsider

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 314

A great many Heralds in Pathfinder have backstories that are only alluded to, while many have no backstory and were simply woven into life by their god. Some are lucky enough to have entire histories explaining their origin and ascension to status of Herald, but to call the Prince in Chains "lucky" would be a grave and insulting mistake. There are few beings in creation quite as pitiable as the Herald of Zon-Kuthon the Midnight Lord, the Prince beginning his existence as a powerful and free spirit wolf filled with boundless love for song and life, and if you read that sentence and then flick your scroll wheel up a little bit, you can probably see where this story is going. But rest assured: It gets so much worse.

You see, the artist-that-would-come-to-be-known-as-Prince was once called Thron, and Thron loved nothing more than frolicking along Golarion, siring countless spirits of art and beauty in his wake with his many lovers. Two of those spirits would eventually come to be known as Shelyn and Dou-Bral. Yes, this unfortunate beast was Dou-Bral's father, who eagerly awaited his son's return from the far reaches of space, and ran up to greet Dou-Bral Zon-Kuthon when he finally came home. The feeling of relief and happiness upon seeing a beloved family member was not mutual, and the Midnight Lord swiftly bound his former father in razor-sharp chains, spending the next several centuries slowly, carefully, meticulously destroying everything about Thron and leaving behind nothing but a roiling nexus of hatred and pain with no memory of the ball of sunshine and song he once was.

It's easy to feel sorry for the Prince in Chains, but don't let what he was distract you from what he is now. He is among the most powerful of the Heralds, and instrument created to inflict as much pain and misery on as many people as he possibly can, and is used by Zon-Kuthon to hunt down, torture, and sometimes provide the mercy of death to those who displease him. When left bereft of orders, the Prince lazily wanders the twisted halls of Xovaikain, Zon's primary base of operations, searching for any creature in need of either enlightenment or motivation, both of which are provided via the same method and medium: chains, teeth, and powerful spells cast upon screaming flesh.

Unlike with many Heralds who may be focused on a mission and thus unwilling to pause it to roll initiative, a party of adventurers encountering the Prince in any environment is unlikely to resolve the meeting peacefully, as it relishes any opportunity to spread pain, even to innocents. Even fervent followers of Zon-Kuthon are likely to be 'tested' or 'blessed' by the Prince in a way that leaves them on the verge of death, with the rest of the party not being anywhere remotely as lucky. So let's see just what an unlucky party is up against should they hear the howl of the Prince in Chains...

Well, first of all, you're not going to get accurate stats from the Archives of Nethys. For whatever reason, the AoN still has the Prince's stats from the 3.5 version that appeared in Curse of the Crimson Throne instead of updating it to its modern portrayal in Inner Sea Gods, a source of infinite frustration for me because it means I need to keep the book open to constantly look back and forth! Ugh! I wouldn't be complaining so much if the differences between its 3.5 version and proper PF version were bigger, but unlike many other Heralds who were powered down in order to fit properly into ISG, the Prince actually got more powerful.

The biggest and most obvious jump in strength comes from looking at the Prince's melee attacks: a bite and two lashing metal tentacles. The Prince's bite is a terribly powerful strike dealing 6d6+9 damage before making an automatic trip attempt against the target, while the tentacles deal 3d6+4 damage per strike, giving the Prince one of the highest damage potentials among the Heralds. Adding onto it is Vicious Critical, turning all confirmed critical hits into an additional 2 Constitution damage as the savage attack rips away at the target's flesh; there is a small mercy in that none of his attacks have an augmented critical hit range, nor does he have Improved Critical, meaning Vicious Critical is only likely to happen once or twice in a given fight.

Unfortunately, that's the only part of the Prince's kit likely to not affect a given battle. The rest of it is geared to take as many player options away as possible, with both his unique abilities AND his list of spell-likes each capable of crippling or killing the party in unique and terrible ways. When he tires of a specific creature or find them annoying, he can use Slay Living 1/day to blast 12d6+15 health out of any creature within his 10ft space/10ft reach. With a similar amount of dismissal, his 1/day Blasphemy is likely to be used to clear out the chaff than to as an actual offensive option, the single word ending the lives of any creature not worth the Herald's time and leaving behind only those who'd survive his twisted "affections" for more than a few seconds. At 3/day he has Bestow Curse and Blindness/Deafness in case his Eyebite and Crushing Despair fail to significantly impact his foes, and an emergency toolkit in the form of Shadow Conjuration to either create disposable minions or raise illusory impediments to hopefully make enemies hesitate approaching... or escaping.

No, the Prince doesn't want anyone to escape the torment he wants to share. Any creature that meets his Unnerving Gaze is staggered if they fail a DC 22 Will save, preventing them from easily running away or fighting back, and further complicating that is his terrifying Chainstorm, a 15ft sphere of whirling chains and strips of spine-covered flesh that automatically deals 1d12 damage to any creature starting their turn in it. Failing a DC 22 Reflex save allows the chains to dig into the victims' flesh, entangling AND anchoring them to the Prince, leaving them open to being torn apart by his teeth or spells.

The Prince in Chains is almost all offense, prompted to get right into the middle of an enemy team and begin ripping into them, and he is rewarded for doing so. He is immune to both critical hits and Sneak Attack damage, denying most bursts of damage from weapon attacks. He is protected by DR 15 which requires only a Good-aligned weapon to bypass, though his unique Exaction ability heals him 10 HP at the end of any turn he managed to damage anything. Notably, this ability is indiscriminate and doesn't specifically state he needed to damage a creature, so a DM going by Rules-As-Written basically allows the Prince to have Fast Healing 10 so long as he takes a moment each round to stomp particularly hard onto a floor or walk into a swarm of flies, and cathartically ripping apart some furniture (or particularly resilient dog toy courtesy of Zon-Kuthon) after battle lets him rapidly heal to full.

Thankfully, his physical resistance just barely hides a vulnerability to magic. Only Cold stands out as his true immunity to magical damage, and he is just as vulnerable to any Save or Suck effect as any other Herald, provided the effect can pierce both 27 SR and his +17/+12/+8 saves (look at that pathetic Will save!). You know, provided he hasn't used Greater Invisibility (3/day) to tiptoe into melee and trap the casters in his reach and follow it up with a walloping against everyone's flat-footed AC, or used his at-will Deeper Darkness on his own space to prevent line-of-sight from being drawn. He doesn't have See in Darkness, but with Scent and 60ft of Blindsight, he can track foes shrouded in the darkness just fine.

The final trick the Prince has, however, is both offensive and defensive, serving just as well to shield him from harm and harm others at the same time: Howl of Despair. This incredibly dangerous ability can be used every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, blasting every non-Evil creature within 60ft of it with 6d6 points of Sonic damage if they can't succeed a DC 22 Will save... but the damage isn't the important part! The important part is that a single use of this ability at the start of the encounter, before anyone can move away from the Prince when he pops into melee distance with everyone, can spell the doom of any party member within 10ft. Any creature within that distance who fails the save against the damage is rendered permanently insane, forcing them to lash out randomly at their allies, attack themselves with their own weapons, or otherwise waste half of their turns until the condition can be cured.

The cruelty of this ability comes from trying to cure the ailment in combat, as the Prince can simply re-apply it when the ability comes back off cooldown (provided the victim fails their Will save again), as there's no 24-hour immunity clause. This essentially means all the melee fighters will be at an enormous disadvantage for the entirety of the fight, being entangled, insane, and almost constantly prone. Possibly even cursed, blinded, and/or deafened! And the Prince is both swift (40ft) and can fly (50ft), so even keeping your distance to pelt it from afar is frustrating! Fitting that fighting the Herald of the God of Pain is so agonizing, really.

You can read more about him here, but the AoN has not updated the Prince's statblock from his 3.5 version.

[piosplayhouse]

Em suggested that official danmei art's tendency for using anachronistic western bridles is probably bc Western bridles are the simplest to draw but also like. Am I too horse pilled or isn't it like actually incredibly easy to see that ancient chinese bridles pretty clearly had nosebands because there's so many surviving horse art pieces everywhere. Like the xian terracotta horses or san cai glazed horse figures or , if you're cultured, the horse statues outside of pf chang's. But like everyone can tell that there's pretty huge differences between these 2 pics right

[fossilizedflint]

Hi hi!

I saw you had written a bit for cp lh!rayman so if it's okay and if you're accepting requests, could you possibly do rayman flustering the reader in his suave tv host way?

・﹒・ suave host

Summary: You were at a party for Eden's most elite, only there due to your friend. It was for Rayman, but parties never were your thing, so you opted for sitting away from everyone. The host seemed to have found you and taken interest in you.

Warnings: 18+, suggestive comments

Notes: Hey! Thanks sm for the request! Sorry this took a while to get to! Im sorry if this was really short, I hope you enjoy regardless though! :D

It was a party for the elite, those high in Eden's ecosystem that were rich, you were only here because your friend knew one of the producers of the Eden Late Show with Rayman. In fact, he was here right now, as this was his party for reaching his 30th season. You haven't seen him yet though, opting to stay towards the quieter areas of the roof as social interaction was not your forte. You had wanted to meet him for so many years now, but anxiety did not want to. Were you ready to accept the fact that you were not as boisterous as him or as cute as him, or well...as popular and rich as him.

Dressed all nice, you looked down at Eden from the secluded part pf the balcony you picked swishing a wine glass full of water imagining it as the namesake. You chose not to drink any alcohol and if you did, it wouldn't make your first impression any better if you did manage to meet him. Meeting all these people above your social status only made your anxiety grow, feeling like one wrong word would make them blacklist you from any jobs and ruin your life. Setting the glass down, you stood up and walked to the glass railing, leaning on it and crossing your arms.

It's not like you hate Eden, far from it, you just wished that you could be successful like all these people here, to be able to have that financial security and to be able to positively impact others. That's why you loved Rayman so much, just by hearing his voice made you happy and comforted knowing that he was here to give hope to everyone.

"You're looking lonely there" That same voice cut through your thoughts and caused you to look back in surprise. Eyes wide, you looked in shock as the Rayman walked closer to you with his trademark smile. Why was he here and not where the main party is? You realized you didn't say anything and was just staring. Coughing, you choked up a reply and hope you didn't look like a total idiot.

"Well uh...these types of parties aren't really my thing hah..." awkwardly chuckling as you cringed, yeah that was bad. He didn't seem detoured though as he only walked closer and stopped when he was right beside you. You knew he was short, but being right next to him really hit you for the height difference between you both.

"Why are you here then? Wanted to see handsom old me?" He winked, causing your face to warm as you stutter out denials, he wasn't convinced naturally. Honestly, that's one of the reasons you went, but it was embarrassing to admit, especially to the man himself. He chuckled and pulled a chair from nearby, up to the railing, pulling himself up and standing on it so he was eye level with you. You cracked a smile and laughed, he looked like a toddler doing that.

"What's so funny huh? You won't be laughing when I-" he then leaned closer, surprising you as his mouth was right next to your ear.

"Show you a good time" and you were dead. Face now on fire, you clamped a hand over your mouth as he pulled away, face painted with a smug smile. Was he actually flirting with you right now?

"Awe, so shy, its adorable. You gone mute...hm...I might know a way to make you talk" He knew exactly what buttons to press to make you melt, causing you to grip onto the railing to prevent you from falling as your breathing quickened.

"I am the most powerful man in Eden after all...imagine...having everything you could ever wanted and more...So. Much. More." Anymore of this and you would collapse, not knowing how to respond or what to even do. It didn't help that his hand started to caress your thigh, only increasing his advances. Never in your entire life would you believe for a second that THE Rayman would hit on you, yet here you were, him hitting on you. The moment didn't last though, as someone came out and called out to Rayman that a journalist wanted to do an interview on him. Pulling away, he said one last thing before leaving.

"This isn't over. Meet me here in the lobby tomorrow, seven pm sharp" and he was gone. Once he was out of sight, you fell to the floor and was left to process what had just happened.

[5aaliyah5]

Textbooks couldn’t prepare me for this

Chapter 1: Starting over

Holy shit, a NEW Y/N x Hange fanfic from me in the year of 2025? on top of that it isn’t a one shot? The gods blessed me with this idea (aka Tumblr) and I felt it was my duty to see it through. Its been since 2022 since ive posted a new AOT fic- so I hope you guys like it. To not get discouraged/ to keep it exciting, I’m keeping it under 10 chapters, but yeah, I felt it was long overdue considering I’m a college student and literally have first experience what it’s kinda like. Also- I hope ya’lll appreciate me going back to my psych notes to actually insert factual psych info/ experiments. Ik Hange would most likely be a chem teacher, but I genuinely don’t know anything about chemistry and I wasn’t about to try 😭

If you have any suggestions or comments please feel free to add any or reach out to me through DM. Thank you so much for reading!

Pairing: Professor Hange x Student Reader / Roommates AU

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Spotify playlist:

It was an irrefutable truth that large crowds of people always relied on those around them to determine what was a socially acceptable way to behave. Y/N had always hated large crowds for this reason, as the human mind perceived and recognize patterns in behavior as the “status quo” and to conform to those to avoid being a target. Fortunately for Y/N though, the bus was not crowded, with very few scattered through the rows of seats, also leaving Y/N to have her own row. The drive had been peaceful, and had allowed Y/N some time to clear her mind as the bus turned a sharp corner. Large buildings loomed overhead, and when Y/N glanced outside her window, she couldn't see where they ended and the sky started.

When her stop approached, which had taken Y/N looking at her phone for at least 10 minutes before hand to determine that that was in fact her stop, Y/N stood from her seat and grabbed her luggages that had been in an compartment above her head, and walked to the front of the bus. The drive had only been 4 hours, but it had felt like 24 hours, as the stale air in the bus had been all that Y/N could breath in for those 4 hours.

She stepped off the bus, and as soon as the bus had left she breathed in a deep breath, instantly being hit with the smell of foods from multiple restaurants nearby. This is what freedom smelt like, this was what her freedom smelt like, and it was glorious. For the first time in her life, she was finally away from her family and it felt like an anchor had been lifted off her chest, one that had kept her down for so long. While Y/N loved her family, there was also a part pf her that was willing to admit that they were also constricting. Coming from a small hometown that only had one Elementary school One middle school, and One highschool, the nearest hospital being 20 minutes and everyone knowing one another, there were no secrets, and so it was no secret to herself and her whole home town that her father believed that she shouldn't even attend college and simply get married and start a family.

When Y/N watched as her older sister succumbed to this fate, having her first child at 19 years old, Y/N watched in horror as her once vibrant sister became a shell of herself. Y/N knew it wasn't from having her child, as her sister loved her daughter, but from simply never being able to leave, to explore, and to be forced to be content to live in their small town for the rest of her life.

Right after Graduating Highschool, Y/N was able to get a job as a teachers assistant, all the while attending the community college that was just a few minutes from her home. Her father believed that this job would allow Y/N to become more accustomed to the idea of being a mother, and to finally settle down, but this job instead offered Y/N the opportunity to save for her true future: to afford community college and then leave this town and move to the city of Shiganshina.

She had watched as 2 years earlier, her friend Sasha move to the big city, being able to live in some apartment buildings her father owned that had been passed down to him from his father. They had called and talked every week about the new experiences that Sasha was able to make and the new friends she was able to meet. And now it was Y/N’s turn. She had been accepted into Shiganshina University, and had saved enough money to pay for the first few months rent and first semester tuition.

Her father had tried to threaten her, to cut her off completely from the rest of the family, as she packed her few belongings that she had into two suitcases. But no matter how much he raged and threatened, she didn't need him. She never had. And so sure enough, as soon as she walked out that door, that would be the last time she spoke to him.

“Y/N!” She recognized the voice from the hours of phone calls the both of them had made to one another over the span of the 2 years, as well as the voice belonging to someone who had been a lifelong friend for Y/N.

“Sasha!” Y/N quickly turned around, immediately spotting Sasha on the side walk across from her. Y/N looked both ways and made sure to check for cars before crossing the street with both luggages being towed behind her. As soon as her feet hit the sidewalk pavement, she reached out her arms to hug Sasha, who returned the gesture. “Its so good to see you! I missed you so much-”

“Oh gosh Y/N, its been so long since we’ve seen one another, look at you! You look good!”

“You too Sash. Its great to finally be here, in person. We wont have to have long Phone calls now, and can just see one another-”

“Especially since you'll be in the apartment underneath me” Sasha smiled, and reached for one of Y/N’s luggages to help pull it. The apartment was only a block down from the bus stop, so the both of them made quick work of walking towards the apartment. “Oh, with that, my dad told me to tell you that your roommate is late and had some problems while moving, so they wont be getting in to the city until later tonight.”

“Aw really? Thats a bummer- I really wanted to meet them.” Y/N says with a sigh “At Least ill have time to make the apartment more presentable before they move in. Maybe go search for some furniture so it at least looks cozy and more livable.”

“Actually about that- I knew you would need to do all of that so, over the past few weeks I found some items on Marketplace for cheap and put them in the apartment already!”

“Really? Are you serious sasha?” Y/N asked excitedly and Sasha nodded. Y/N felt her heart beat faster and a large smile reach her face “Thank you so much! Thats such a big help, you don't know how much I appreciate it-”

“Of course, think of it as your homecoming gift. Besides, it wasn't that hard, my dad helped me go pick up some of the pieces in his truck that I couldn't carry alone, and we had the renovation men help bring it in. All I really did was find the things online.” She explains “If you don't like anything though-”

“Stop there- im sure ill love everything. You know me better than anyone else, and you know im not picky about things like that. I just want to thank both you and your dad so much for this- for this chance to actually live here and for caring so much for me.”

“I've got you Y/N. Im just glad ill finally get my best friend back.” Just as Sasha had said that, they both arrived at the Apartments. Sasha dug into her jacket for the keys, and slid them into the lock- Apartment 5- and smoothly, the door knob twisted and opened. The inside of the apartment was nicer than Y/N could have ever imagined. The building was older- with there still being frame molding along the edges of the walls, reminding her of something from a 50’s home. The white frame molds contrasted against the fresh grey paint of the walls. Y/N then looked to the living room. The dark green couches and glass coffee table all had a very classy feeling to it, which led her eyes to roam the walls again, with there being matching paintings of various scenes. One looked like the beach, with three figures roaming it and looking towards the sun on the horizon, another painting looked like a hillside with a tree on it, the background looked unclear but some parts of a wall behind it could be identified. “Wow- you really went all out Sasha, its so pretty in here!” Y/N traced her fingers on the coffee table and then walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen was simple, and actually very small compared to the living room and hallways leading to the rooms. Two people would be able to fit in here comfortably, but no more than that. With the sink, oven, refrigerator and microwave all being pushed along one wall, and half of the other side wall having a small counter for things like a coffee pot or toaster. A small two seat table fit in the small area along the last open space of the wall.

It was perfect.

—-

Y/N unpacked her things as sasha layed on her bed, talking about how her classes have been in the past, about the city in general and the nightlife of it: “There isn't many parties surprisingly, considering its a college city, but the few that there are during the semester go really hard. In terms of clubbing and things like that, we cant really go yet cause we are only 20, so our only options are either drinking inside our apartments and dorms or going to the few social activities and parties during the semester.”

“That might be for the best honestly. We are here after all to focus on College, and not partying.” Y/N remarked which earned her a laugh. YN reached into her suitcase to pull out more clothes. She really only had either clothes or sentimental items, as while she was packing, her father had taken it upon himself to smash some of the few items Y/N had in regards to makeup and hygiene essentials. She would need to go to the store…

“And I agree with that, but its also nice to get out once in a while… for establishing social connections, don't you agree psych major?” Y/N smiled a little as she put away the last of her clothes.

“I agree to a certain extent. Cant you also do that in a coffee shop? Or perhaps in class?” Somewhere less crowded, Y/N thought in her head, “Im just thinking of the peer pressure at parties like that, and how such a small thing such as someones approval can get someone into a lot of trouble…”

“And when has that ever been proven?” Sasha asked and Y/N was quick with her response.

“Many experiments, including but not limited to Asch’s Studies of group pressure” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “The experiment asked a group of people questions in which most of the group were confederates and said the wrong answer on purpose, and even though the one participant knew the answer was wrong would select it just to fit in with the rest of the group.” Sasha rolled her eyes and Y/N added There is also Normative Influence which is when People conform because they fear the consequences of appearing deviant.”

“Okay okay, I get it- The human mind is a crazy thing.” She says and Y/N hums in agreement. “So- now that you are unpacked… let’s go over to my place and crack open a new bottle of champagne that I’ve been storing”

“Champagne? I’ve only been here for two hours and your already trying to get drunk?” y/n asks and then answers “cause if so, it took you long enough- let’s do this. I’ve never drank before, but it can’t be that bad right?”

“No- it’s totally fine Y/N, besides we will have each other to keep each other in check and make sure neither of us drink too much.” Sasha assured her, and Y/N nodded along.

That was the last thing Y/N remembered before they cracked open that bottle…

—-

Y/N awoke sometime later, unable to understand where she was or what was going on. That was until she turned her face from the pillow to look at the alarm clock that sat on Sasha’s messy nightstand.

8:54 AM

Y/N shot out of bed, immediately almost tripping over a shirt that was on the ground.

“Sasha!” Y/N tried to shake Sasha awake but it was a failure, as the brown haired girl slept through the shaking and yelling coming from Y/N. Y/N even tried to take the blankets off of sasha to wake her, but it was a failure as sasha clumsily reached back for her covers and draped them over herself again.

“‘We’ll have each other to keep eachother from getting too drunk’ I guess that plan fell apart…” y/n muttered under her breath as she gave up trying to awaken Sasha and rushed to straighten up her appearance, borrowing some of Sasha’s makeup to make herself appear less hungover. The circles under her eyes unfortunately couldn’t be erased with concealer, still leaving a noticeable outline but it looked better than the discolored mess it had been a few minutes ago.

–

Y/N had ran to her class, weaving and dodging the many doors and crowds of students entering different buildings. She would once again restate in her mind: she hated crowds.

Y/N entered the classroom, her hair blowing in her face and sticking to the chapstick she had applied that morning, causing her to need to awkwardly brush it out of her face. She was greeted by a voice, which caused her to jump, a little startled. “Good morning”

“Im so sorry im late-” She rushed to say, as the figure that stood at the front of the room looked towards her. She assumed it was the professor, with their dark brown hair placed up in a high ponytail. They wore a white button up with simple black slacks. Y/N could notice their brown coat hanging off their chair as well.

“Its fine, you're not the only one. Its the first day of class and there are plenty of new students struggling to find the building or find parking. Nothing has started yet, and we are just reviewing the syllabus, please find a seat.” Y/N sighed, and turned around before hearing the Professors voice again “Im sorry, I just finished attendance, could you please let me know your name so I could mark you present?”

“Hm? Oh, im Y/N L/N.” The professor looked down at their attendance sheet and traced a finger over it before finding her name.

“Thank you, and nice to meet you Y/N. You can call me Professor Zoë.” They smiled to her, their glasses hitting the reflection of one of the lights in the room, which blocked their eyes from being seen, but their smile seemed genuine and Y/N felt good about this class already.

“Nice to meet you as well.” Y/N smiled and then turned around once more to find a seat in the middle of the class. She pulled out her computer to look up the class on Canvas and open the page to view the Syllabus just as Professor Zoë had said they were doing. Biological Psychology- Y/N read as they went over some of Professor Zoë’s background. They moved to the area very recently, and their background was in Biological science, that was until the college hired them because of the lack of professors available to teach Biological Psychology.

Y/N found the class go by very quickly as some other few students walked in late after her, and they continued to just cover the standards for what the Professor expected of the class.

—

After class, Y/N had received a text to meet Sasha at a small diner that was around the corner from the university and a few blocks down from their apartment. Y/N saw the bright yellow and red painted building from down the street, with the distinctive name Carla’s Diner written on the front of the building. The diner looked like any other diner Y/N had been in before, nothing special about it, but Sasha continued to rave about the food and how the diner was a beloved spot for the students of the university. Y/N did enjoy the classic feeling of the diner, and how it would make for a nice study spot.

Carla was also personally there and serving food, bring them their plates with a smile “here you are girls” she said, and Y/N thought she looked rather maternal weirdly enough. It reminded her of home.

“Thank you-” was all they both said as they ate their food. Sasha got one thing right: the food was amazing. She would definitely be coming back here for more than just a cup of coffee or pastry. The walk back to their apartment was very calming, with the both of them basking in the last sun of summer, as the season started to change into fall. When they both arrived to the complex, they went their separate ways, with Y/N pulling her keys out of her bag.

Y/N walked into the apartment, and sighed, happy to finally be home and now, with a full belly and now having the chance to relax within her own space. A space she wouldn't have to share with anyone else- aside from her roommate. But that would be fine-

“Hello?” A voice rung from the hallway, and Y/N froe for a second before putting a smile on her face. Her roommate was home it seemed. The voice sounded… Familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it…

“Hey-” Y/N called put, as she took off her shoes by the front door and hang up her bag on a hook along with her keys. “Sorry im barely getting back. I was here yesterday but then went and crashed at a friends apartment after drinking a bit too much…” She walked into the apartment more, towards the back area where the rooms were, including her own “Its nice to meet yo- P-Professor Zoë?” Y/N stopped, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening. Professor Zoë stood in her door frame, equally as shocked.

“Y/N, right? What are you doing here?” She asked, trying to appear calm but Y/N could also she was internally freaking out.

“I live here now- I just moved in yesterday… What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, though she could feel in the answer in her heart. This couldn't be happening…

“I- I also live here…” Professor Zoë confirmed her worst fear, and Y/N felt the blood drain from her and goosebumps raise on her arms. How could this happen? Why did this happen? Why did it have to be her? Y/N had a million questions running through her brain but felt frozen in shock, like she had been caught committing a crime.

There was a tense silence between the two, both unsure what to do or say. This was a line that wasn't allowed to be crossed when it came to university, a Professor was supposed to remain a distant character, an unattainable person, who a student would never truly know aside from professionally, not… your roommate?! Y/N was glad she had hardly met Professor Zoë this morning, otherwise seeing them in a large T-shirt and sweats, with their hair messily down and surrounding their face, after taking a few weeks of their class would have messed with her head. They looked… good. NO SHE COULDN'T THINK THAT WAY. The only thing Y/N found she had the strength to do was turn around quickly, rush to her room and shut the door, embarrassed.

This would be a long semester.

[wisteriahyacinth]

Realising that all demigods through out all the books are fighting like animals for a sense of autonomy. Like think about it:

In the og PJO series we see

Luke revolting against the gods, just for a sense of revenge but also a sense of autonomy. He wants to do things without the gods breathing down his back

Percy knowing that he had to be the child pf the prophecy even though he didn't want to

Everything being set in stone because of the prophecy

Nico fighting back against Minos

Silena being controlled and manipulated by Lule and her final act was a desperate grab to make things better, taking control of what she did.

(Im forgetting but ik there's more)

Then there's the Heroes of Olympus series where we see:

Jason and Percy forgetting pretty much everything of who they are. Percy had it much better than Jason (will be discussed later)

Jason, Leo, and Percy all being controlled by those ghost thingies making them do things outside of their control

Piper, Leo, and Jason fighting Khione (?) Who wanted to turn them into ice statues which makes them more like things to be looked at rather than people

Nico being trapped in the jar not being able to do anything other than slowly die

Leo's death is literally out of his hands cuz he knows he had to, so he tried so hard to make it happen on his own terms.

Then Jason's entire backstory. His death and birth being orchestrated. His birth was literally just because Hera demanded him. And then when he was a child, he tried really hard to not be the golden boy that everyone expected, yet they made him out to be preator anyway. Then when he dies, he dies a roman, (i assume?) Being buried in New Rome rather than in Camp Half-Blood even though in his inner dialogue, he states that he felt more at home in CHB than in New Rome.

Then Trials of Apollo

I've barely read it but ik that Jason's death was also due to a prophecy which was also out of his hands.

Notice how all of the deaths are not due to just simple choice, but it was literally like said by the prophecies. Now of course you could say that the prophecy is just saying, but the prophecy is the one that sends the kids out to do all those things sooo ykyk? Its like the cause is the effect and the effect is the cause.

[breadsticksposts]

DUMB BUNNNY S/O WITH SCARAMOUCHE

-so you and scaramouche dont have that much in common, i mean..he is way smarter than you, and more serious while youre.. well lets just say you dont know how to read situation and more dumber.

-even though you are dumb but he still love you

- but sadly because he is always at work, he kinda doesnt have time for you. and also his behavior is meaner. but he didnt mind you sitting next to him while telling you about your day!

-but dont expect an answer from him, he LOVE to listen but didnt like to waste his time talking.

-but if he cant help him self, he commented abit of how dumb the story you tell him is. but he still love to listen

-he didnt really like you going anywhere other than his office or his house. so most. likely he keep you next to him or around him.

-if you got bored while waiting for hhim to finish his work, then he will give you something to do! like he give you a paper and a pencil, a book, or a small puzzle

-even though you didnt like most pf the things but he always say that those things can make you a bit smarter

“out of all thing you coud give me, you give me a book?? :(“ you whine

“maybe this book can help you pea brain some knowledge. who knows?” he says while not leaving his eyes off the paper

-if you hurt your self from somethng stupid. then he would likely to scold you while healing your wound

“this is what happens when you dont listen to me. i told you to say with me but instead you roam around the place. what were you thinking anyway? jumping off a freaking statue?? you know how tall that is! god.” he say while he patch up your wounds

“i thought i can land on my feet! and isnt bunnies supposed to have 9 lives?? and also that isnt that dumb..”

“you dumbass! cat have 9 lives not bunnies” he sigh

-now about the ears and tails part! i think he would pull your ear if you walk infront of him to fast. and about your small tail, i think he love to grab is out of the sudden to make you jumped/shocked.

-i think he will take a good care of you. when its 7/10 for me

-and if you do something amazing or something that amaze him, i think he will pat you and maybe let you out a bit.

-and what if you get out by your own? without his permission?? well get ready to be drag/carry while his worker, because you are not going anywhere. and be ready to be slap too. well he most likely to slap you and scold you. well after that he most likely to heals it or make it feel a lot better. and if you cry when he slap you then he would scold you more kinder.

-the place that you like the most this his garden! there is a lots of beautiful flower and its a big garden so you like to play with the the other little bunnies thatc scaramouche bought for you, so you something to play with in the garden.

-and the garden is the place you mostly get injured

-now sleeping headcanon!

he refused to be the little spoon. no matter the condition you will always be the little spoon. he jus love hugging you from behind . and if he feels exttra tired and need comfort then he like when you are facing him and your face is in his chest while you cuddles while he touch you ears/tails its depends on his mood

- and if he is mad at you or something, then there is no cuddle. unless you want to, the you could beg him?? but he still won budge so its kinda useless. but if the problem is not that serious the he will cuddle you, but not that clingy.

THAT IS ALL AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!

if you have some scenerios, please feel free to tell me! {my english is not that great so forgive me if i make some mistake] 🫶

[frie-ice]

This Disney Villains collage is of the seven main DVs that make up the Great Seven in the Twisted Wonderland universe, as part of my crossover collage series of Disney Villains, to help mark the countdown to Halloween. That's why the background of the collage is of main street (pf Night Raven College) decorated for Halloween. These influential figures within TWST are the Queen of Hearts (who maintains her original title), the King of Beasts (Scar), the Sea Witch (Ursula), the Sorcerer of the Sands (Jafar), the Fairest Queen (the Evil Queen), the King of the Underworld (Hades) and the Thorn Fairy (Maleficent).

When I decided to make this collage, after doing one of the four main Villain Parents from Disney's Descendants, I wasn't sure how I would layout this collage. Seven isn't an even number like I'm used to when I first started to make my own collages. At first I thought about sorting the villains in the order of the Housewardens or Overblot victims in official artworks of their TWST counterparts, until I decided to sort them in the book order, with each one of the seven books focuses on the dorms modelled after the villains. Seeing how it has turned out made me glad that I did it this way.

Similar to the thoughts I had when making the VPs collage, I thought about only using images of the seven from their animated films, until I remembered the Platinum Jacket birthday card series that were made to celebrate Disney's 100th anniversary. In the background of those cards are portraits of original Disney characters (both villains, heroes and even supporting characters), making them perfect for this collage; rather than using images of the Great Seven statues in Main Street. Not only did I add in the crest shields of the dorms that are each based upon the seven, but also the icons of the characters that were modelled after them.