#retaining your retainer

[fiona-anteres]

New Story: Retaining Your Retainer ch. 1

The air is still and dull. This room has always been dull.

Or maybe Prince Alec is just bored.

Sitting upon his throne in its dedicated room, Prince Alec traces nonsensical patterns into the minimal layer of dust on the armrest. Today is the one day that he is free from overwhelming duties as the heir of the Lokary kingdom. He should be celebrated to the high heavens above. No sword lessons, no countless world-renowned tutors, and no mother badgering him about this or that.

But now Alec has to grapple with an emotion no royal should feel. Boredom, pure unadulterated boredom. A boredom so great that he thought he might turn into a puddle of nonsentient goo to escape its vices as he sunk further into his seat. With tremendous strength that a lesser man could not muster, he rolls his encumbered aquamarine eyes to the stoic figure standing to the left of Axel, then looks at the marbled ceiling.

"Hey."

"Yes, Your Highness?" The figure chirps back with robotic quickness.

"I'm bored," Alec drawls out. The figure continues looking straight ahead but responds,

"I am sorry to hear that, Your Highness. Perhaps you would like to engage in a simulation of sorts?" he inquires. Alec rises slightly from his slumped position; a flash of curiosity sweeps across his features. Suddenly, his gaze drops back onto the man standing firmly at his side, his personal guard.

Giving the head tilt of a curious puppy, Alec questions the man. "What do you have in mind?" His eyes scan over the guard's side profile. It is statuesque, every feature perfectly carved into clean angles.

"If Your Highness would like to play a game of chess or perhaps partake in an interesting book, I can go and grab it for you."

Alec thinks momentarily before nodding, a slight smirk growing on his face. Finally! Something is happening.

"Hrm. You're correct. Grab me a book, Andre." As if his name were a cue, he broke his concentrated stare from the wall ahead and examined Prince Alec.

"Of course. What book would you prefer, Your Highness?" Warm caramel-brown eyes study Alec, waiting for his response. The prince thinks momentarily, his eyes wandering slightly before locking his gaze onto Andre's again.

"Surprise me." He says, a smirk still lingering on his face. There was a tiny hint of mischievousness in his voice as he spoke.

Andre studies him for a second longer, seemingly pondering his choices, before giving a curt nod. "Of course, Your Highness. I will do my best." He turns forward and makes a beeline out of the throne room. He sits up straight on his throne again, crossing his arms as he waits for Andre to return with the book. Alec sends a smirk and unreceived eyebrow after him at the slight hesitation. That was unlike his guard. Andre typically had succinct response timing. However, his concerned eyebrow flattened as he thought about his guard, Andre, longer.

Oh, Andre, his guard Andre. A tall young man with an athletic build and muscles that laments the tale of a disciplined routine. His sepia brown skin harderned by his years of required guard school training. Long but neat, dark brunette strands framed a smooth, chiseled face. And those eyes. His eyes rivaled the expensive, deep golden honey curtains his mother, the Queen, insisted that the palace "Just so had to have!" last spring but quickly forgot as soon as a new, slightly lighter shade became the latest fad.

He often got lost in those eyes. They lured him in, and he unknowingly found himself stuck in their trap. Suddenly, the golden whirlpools were gliding towards him, and he needed to break the surface of the honey-colored goop and breathe in fresh air.

Andre stands before him, a book in hand. Prince Alec raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised that his guard has returned quickly in just three minutes. The library was at least a five-minute walk; had he run? Somehow, Alec doesn't put it past Andre. Dismissing the thought, he nods as he holds his hand out for the book.

"Thank you. Let's see what we have here, " he says as he takes the book from Andre. He briefly looks at the cover before opening it up to look at the pages. It doesn't seem like anything exciting. As if reading his mind, Andre comments, "I know it looks quite plain on the outside, but it's actually from my personal collection, which is why I returned so fast. I believe if you keep reading it, you will be quite intrigued."

A slight smirk reappears upon Alec's face as he ponders Andre's words momentarily. He looks down at the book again before lifting his head to gaze up at him again.

"What makes you think that? I haven't even looked at more than two pages yet." Alec remarks.

"I believe this is one of those times I'm inclined to say, 'Trust me.' Your Highness." A hint of a familiar and soft smile crosses Andre's softly sculpted features. There it was—a smile worth the Earth in gold—one he wanted to see every day that the heavenly beings above permitted another breath—the reason for his heart's unbearable suffering.

Putting on a farce of humoring the guard, Alec nods as he glances down at the book again. "Very well. I'll trust you this one time." He would trust him for a thousand lifetimes. Andre's smile grows ever so slightly.

Alec continues to read the book; at first, he feels it is boring and contrite. Why did Andre bring him this nap inducer? Until he happens upon one page that piques his interest. And suddenly, he cannot stop reading. Alec is wholly absorbed in the book, not registering anything around him. The story involves an action-filled thriller that starts slow but with a twist that addresses a deeper societal issue in a subverted manner. One of Alec's favorite genres. How had he not read this book before? He was right to trust Andre's intuition; the man knew him well.

As he reads the book, Alec faintly whispers the words in a few parts where the story is getting fascinating. It's almost like he's in a completely different world and wholly invested in this book. Then, the plot arrives at the cliche love confession that is necessary in each one of these books. Alec usually rolls his eyes at this plotline, but this one is different. It felt personal. It was a romance between the ruler of a small island and her right-hand man.

As he keeps reading, he occasionally glances up at Andre to see if he's there. Even though he's not even wholly paying attention to his surroundings, an air of nervous hope radiates from his body.

Was the book a deliberate choice? The couple's dynamic closely resembles their relationship—one of quiet banter and knowing smiles, a devout and quiet loyalty to the childish but firm ruler's safety. They were the same height, and both even had A-names. There was no world where this was not some sort of sign, right? Definitely not in a world with Andre, who is typically observant of the tiniest details, be it fighting techniques or literary prose.

"Is everything all right, Your Highness? Is the book to your liking?" Andre breaks his rapidly declining train of thought. Alec feels he is in a trance. He glances at Andre for a moment before nodding once more. He lets out a short exhale.

"Yeah. Actually, this book is quite… interesting." He glances down at the book but can't stop gazing back at Andre.

"Is something bothering Your Highness? Is it the book's subject matter?" Concern begins to seep across Andre's rich brown features.

Yes, it is, Alec thinks internally. But no, it couldn't be. "N-No. I'm fine," Prince Alec stammers out. He's being ridiculous. It is only a coincidence. He tries desperately to keep the conflicting thoughts from his face. However, his attempts fail as the concern spreads across his loyal guard's face.

"Your Highness, you're turning red. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" A calloused hand slowly reaches his forehead, "If I may approach..?"

Oh no, too close! "No — no. I'm fine. Why are you getting so close… to me?"

Andre's hand stops but hovers between them, watching Alec get even more flustered as he approaches him, the redness on his face growing more prominent by the second. "Because it is my duty not just to protect you, Your Highness, but also to ensure you are in good health. Should I fetch a doctor for you if you are not feeling well? Or perhaps a soup from the kitchen that should warm your soul?"

Damn, his sweet attentiveness. "N-no. I am completely fine, and I don't need a doctor, and I don't need a warm concoction either." Prince Alec assures, trying to sound stern and serious, but his flustered expression and stuttering made him sound like a kid caught in a lie.

"Well, if you're sure, Your Highness," Andre states tentatively, his knitted eyebrows portraying that he doesn't honestly believe the prince. He drops the subject and his hand and returns to his post beside the throne.

Damn that knitted brow he got whenever he worried over something. Why couldn't he stop being so damned "cute…"

"Excuse me, Your Highness? I don't mean to talk out of turn, but did you say cute?"

Oh, oops. Alec let a part of his thoughts slip through his lips. The prince stiffens up in surprise as Andre speaks, not expecting him to hear him speak. He glances at Andre, panic and embarrassment written all over Alec's face. He quickly tries to cover up the statement with a snarky yet sarcastic tone.

"What? I didn't say a single thing. You must be hearing things, that's all."

"Perhaps you are right, Your Highness." Andre's brows knit more, but he remains firmly at the prince's side.

After placing the book in his lap, the prince is lost in thought, gazing in Andre's direction but no longer paying attention to anything else around him. The embarrassment on his face hasn't gone away yet, no matter how hard he tries to wipe it away. He continues gazing in Andre's direction while still rambling quietly under his breath.

"Your Highness, I hate to keep bothering you, but if something is distressing you, please just tell me. I care about you—not just as your guard, but I believe so as a friend as well. If that is okay with you?" Andre places those caramel eyes on his body again, and his body feels it's on fire. Not from the stare, but that categorization. "A friend." Of course, it is just friendship. It always has been. The book was only a coincidence and couldn't be a confession.

But could it have been? His body continues to heat, and he can no longer stew in silence.

"Your Highness?"

"It's just… I've just been thinking of… something. It's nothing, it's just really embarrassing." As Andre's honey eyes plead with him, his heart starts to race, and his body feels covered with warm, fresh guilt.

"Please, you will never be embarrassed in my presence because I will never judge you, Your Highness. Go ahead, you can tell me."

That's it. Alec has to rip off the band-aid. He is a prince, for goodness sake. Why is he so worried about how this guard will respond? He is heir to the esteemed Lokary throne, for crying out loud. Anyone would be lucky to have him!

"I — ITHINKIHAVEFEELINGSFORYOU!" The Great Lokarian Prince blurts out. Whew! Got it off my chest, he thinks.

"Oh."

Ah, that's the reaction he was worried about.

[undead-cypress]

Strohl and Hulkenberg are so funny to me as a duo. They're the exact same type of people - they NEED to pledge their life to a liege or they'll start ripping up your couch like an understimulated shepherd dog. However they go about it in polar opposite directions. (Early-game story spoilers ahead, mid-game gameplay spoilers) Hulkenberg had her life purpose taken away years back and comes to realize hyperfocusing probably isn't the optimal way to go about it, so she expands her horizons to do her duty better. Strohl had no will to live until joining the assassination plot, and then it fails so bad he resolves to hyperfocus so hard the classes he unlocks can only do one thing, critical slash damage really really well

Hulkenberg is the formal knightly one but she delights in mucking around and would rather fist fight people than think. But then she demolishes you in chess and teaches you tactics while Strohl, the familiar casual guy who's a lot more stategically minded is the one always sharpening a sword and implying if anything happened to you, seppuku may be on the table - Gallica this is so scary play encounter music - my courage has increased

It all clicked when I saw their third tier classes are paladin/dark knight and samurai. Ohhhh you guys are henchmen. You wanna be henchmen so bad. They're the exact same kinda guy but are completely baffled by everything the other guy does. They have everything in common and nothing in common. They both think they're the normal one of the group. They have completely different ideas about how to best do their jobs but they simply must beat the shit out of each other on the deck daily or else they might have to actually go to therapy. I need an early 2000s team up/roadtrip action movie with these two where Will is faking being kidnapped to draw out the bad guys but Gallica didn't tell Strohl and Hulkenberg because their bad acting would immediately give it away and they proceed to absolutely demolish the metaphorical furniture of the house of Euchronia looking for the world's most specialest lil' captain. Do you see my vision 🤌

[golyadkin]

I cannot express enough that if your reaction, as a hobby artist, to not getting that many notes on your art is to say "maybe I should just stop doing art altogether" you need to stop posting art to tumblr

not necessarily forever, not even for long, but just stop putting your art on here and start doing it for you again, remember why you enjoyed doing art in the first place and stop relying on the attention of faceless people on the internet for your enjoyment of your hard work

believe me, I get it, nothing crushes the artistic soul quite like labouring for hours on a piece only for it to get like 10 notes, so you need to find your own source of joy in the act of creation and a lot of the time that means making art and not showing it to anybody

[kennycrows]

[bet-on-me-13]

Reincarnation AU but it's not Danny

So! In basically every single Reincarnation AU I've seen, it's always Danny who gets reincarnated as a DC character. Sometimes it's Jazz, other times it's his Friends, but it never really strays from them. And I think we've been ignoring some people...

The Ancients! Danny is always reincarnated as a "Vacation" from his Ghost King Duties, so why not give the same courtesy to the other Ancients?

Specifically, Fright Knight.

Fright Knight has been a loyal servant and Knight of his Master for Millenia. Ever since he first formed as the Autumn Spirit, the Embodiment of Fear, the Fright Knight, he had declared his Servitude to the Ghost King, whomever it may be at the time. And he stayed in that position, through the passing of the Crown, through the Violent Coups, through every single Ghost King who had taken to the mantle. He was their Loyal Knight. Never Wavering. Never leaving their side.

Until Pariah Dark, but that situation was different. No previous King had even tried to take the human world before.

Thankfully, Pariah had only taken the Throne for a mere 5000 years, so he had not had to put up with him for long, and much of that time was with him stuck in his Coffin. That was the first time Fright Knight had ever left his Masters Side.

Then, that insolent Halfa he had met before came into the picture and Fright Knight had a new master.

King Phantom was...different.

Perhaps it was his remaining Humanity poking through? Or was it was the influence of the Human Realm that he still regularly visited? Or maybe he was simply just a Good Person, and there was no deeper meaning behind it?

Either way, Fright Knight noticed that he cared for his subjects in a far deeper manner than any previous king had. He had personal connections with as many Ghosts as he could, and often called the Ghosts he ruled his, Friends. It warmed his Long Frozen Core to see a King valuing his Subjects as much as he did.

He did not realize that the kindness Phantom extended to his people, also extended to himself.

One day, Phantom had been discussing his Human Life with some of his friends. Not his First Life, but his most recent Vacation. Over the Eons since he had taken the Throne, Phantom had been encouraged to take a Vacation every once in a while. It was not healthy for a Ghost to work non-stop like he did, especially for a Halfa.

It was not an uncommon practice in the Realms, many would take a break from the Endlessness of Death to embrace Life once more through Reincarnation. Although, many were too weak to retain their memories upon their second Forming. Mostly, it was Ancients or Kings who would use this as a Vacation, rather than a New Beginning.

There came a break in the conversation, and King Phantom turned his attention to his Knight. "Frighty, when was the last time you Reincarnated? Pandora did so recently, and it got me thinking."

"I have not taken leave of my post for thr Eons since my Forming, My Lord" Replied the Knight with Pride.

"What? You haven't taken a Break since you formed!? Frighty! That's not Healthy!" Exclaimed his King.

This lead to a whole conversation about how unhealthy his lifestyle was, which was another quirk of his Master. He cared for his Sunjects beyond their happiness.

"Fright Knight, as your King and as your Friend, I implore you to take a Vacation. It doesn't have to be forever, just a simple Human Lifespan, but please take a break, for your own Good."

And how could he refuse a request like that? One based in the kindness that his Majesty always showed his Subjects.

It took a few more years to finally iron out the plan for his Vacation, but what are a few years in the face of Eternity?

Finally, it came time to take his leave to the Mortal Realm, and to Life itself.

"Farewell, my Leige." Bowed Fright Knight, "I thank you for this opportunity."

"There's no need to thank me. Now go, and have fun, My Dark Knight."

...

That day, in Gotham General Hospital, a baby was born.

"What will you name him?" Asked the Doctor.

"I think I'll call him..." Began the need Mother, "...Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

[serpentface]

A witch of the Naig-Troibadnnas (Yellowtail river valley) people, resting and enjoying a smoke of the mild stimulant brolge leaf on a hot summer day.

Witches are a small part of the everyday cultural framework among the Hill Tribes. They are individuals considered born possessed by a virgranul, a type of disembodied wild spirit that seeks to inhabit human flesh, either entering the body at the moment of conception, or entering the body at the moment of death. The latter is a dire circumstance that requires significant intercession to fix (the dead body may wander off without rites, leaving the person's soul trapped and liable to warp into the dangerous fuldaigh spirit), while the former circumstance is what causes a person to be born a witch.

In the case of those afflicted in the womb, possession by virgranul is lifelong, and is both a curse and blessing- it divides and isolates them from the human world and causes other wild spirits (both benevolent and malicious) to be perpetually drawn to them, but also allows for them to be attuned to the subtleties of spirits, and able to work magic and divination that the everyday person is incapable of.

Witches are usually recognized from a young age due to marked behavioral differences or atypical development, though are sometimes simply identified as such without obvious behavioral indications, by other witches having read signs of their coming. Their occurrence is not frequent, usually once in a generation for any given tribe. An identified witch child will be taken from their family (the timing varies by tradition, though is usually upon puberty) and into mentorship by an established witch, who will impart their accumulated knowledge and skill and teach the child how to best harness their condition.

One can be a witch regardless of their gender, with the only commonality being that they must remain unmarried, and are expected to never have children (deemed too dangerous, unavoidably placing a child in the path of potentially harmful wild spirits). With no spouses or children to support them in holding a household and herds, witches are instead supported by their communities as means of payment for their services. They typically live in semi-isolation in the boundaries between the village and wilderness (a reflection of their own division between the world of people and of wild spirits, and a protective measure for their communities), and will periodically be brought needed supplies. They do not commonly enter villages unless summoned, or for the sake of certain holidays and festivals, and live most of their lives in seclusion aside from any given mentee (who will in turn care for their mentor in old age).

The societal function of witches is as intermediaries between people and their ancestors, people and wild spirits, and as especially skilled performers of practical magic (most commonly weaving protective spells into worn items, such as clothing or the nose rings of cattle). Forms of practical magic and intercession with ancestors and spirits are performed by all members of society, but a witch has intimate, detailed knowledge of such things and tremendous natural skill that makes them an invaluable asset.

Witches personally discern the identities of the spirits living in any given area and will attempt to familiarize themselves with them, learning in depth about their ways, giving warnings of where the particularly dangerous (or mischievous) ones are, and giving recommendations on which will be receptive to offerings in return for boons. When a village needs to commune with a particularly powerful or dangerous spirit (such as a wildfolk witch), they will commonly send their own witch as an intermediary.

They are ascribed have the ability to directly summon ancestors (who otherwise come and go of their own volition, and rarely ever deign to come at the call of one who is not their descendant). This is of great use when a person finds themselves punished by their ancestors with no certainty as to why, or cases where an orphaned child's ancestry must be identified to gain them proper spiritual support.

They are also regarded as having innate qualities of divination, particularly in reading birdsign (itself generally acknowledged as communication from ancestors, and occasionally gods). The average person has basic knowledge in reading omens of birds and a learned repertoire of key signs, but a witch can divine the messages of birdsign in immense and specific detail, through a vast knowledge system of the meanings of the species, sex, flight direction, gaze, prey, number, and songs of birds. It is common for people to approach a witch for a reading of the skies before undertaking a significant venture or life change, in order to receive detailed and specific advice.

Witches are always literate (and will be taught to read and write by their mentor if they cannot already) and will record their repositories of knowledge in tomes. These are items of absolute secrecy and taboo for a non-witch to touch (the consequences can be severe, you really don't want a witch ancestor-spirit upset with you). Witches can often become competitive about the knowledge stored in these tomes and are known to organize heists amongst themselves in order to gain access to each other's secrets. Most people avoid getting themselves entangled into the complicated rivalries of witches, as these competitions can get ugly and result in many a petty curse if one gains a witch's ire.

---

The only visual cue distinguishing this man as a witch is the tattoos on his forearms, otherwise usually regarded as inappropriate to mark in the contemporary Hill Tribes cultural sphere (the face, upper arms, and sternum is reserved for important clan/tribe/ancestry identification, hands and forearms are reserved for witches, and the rest of the body is appropriate for decoration). These unique forearm tattoos indicate his ancestral connection with a lineage of witches, not blood ancestry but rather the generations of mentors that have produced him. The lines extending down to his fingers are the newest, indicating that he has fully mentored another witch and gained a place in this ancestral line.

The rest of the tattoos here are tribe and blood ancestry identifiers (on the face and upper arms respectively, worn by all members of society), and purely decorative imagery (visible here is a deer, horse, eagle, and a dragon). He also has a snake on his forearm, applied decades ago in an act of youthful rebellion, which has since gotten in the way of critical open skin space.

His clothing is otherwise typical wear for warm seasonal conditions- a man's wool shawl and woven belt, short trousers, decorative deer hide (distinct to the Naig-Troibadnnas), and sandals (these are imported Wardi style sandals, which have been modified with preferred elevated heels). The horn shaped torc on his forearm identifies him as an esteemed elder.

[1000dactyls]

Waiter! more hiccup hcs please they way you draw him is phenomenal

you asked & i delivered 🫡 even more hiccup headcanons and stylization thoughts… with an extra helping of the haddocks!!! hiccup is a fun exercise in thinking how does a neurodivergent norse teenager save the world. astrid’s line in DoB’s episode ‘fright of passage’ still sticks with me. paraphrasing a bit, it’s something like this:

ASTRID: come ON hiccup. don’t tell me you haven’t been dreaming about going after the Flightmare — learning about it, riding it, training it… HICCUP: i don’t spend all my time thinking about dragons! ASTRID: are you seriously saying that to me with a straight face right now?

Like why did you clock him like that .

[helimir]

imagine the chaos when a bunch of teenage god-mortals who have either been living like celebrities or fleeing for their lives for a while show up on the bright queen’s doorstep like ‘please let us get consecuted 🥺 we know you don’t worship any of us and you despise one of us (we won’t tell you who 😘) but we really really want to keep living. we won’t steal your beacons or do anything blasphemous we pwomise 🥺🥺🥺’

[spec-tralarts]

day 4 of Dimivain Week: Roleswap

[venacoeurva]

I know this isn’t how Mind Flayers work but imagine (I guess they’d explode out of your head chest burster style, or something???)

-Please do not reupload, edit, or use without proper credit or linking back. Ask first.-

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 5

CHILDHOOD. SLY AND KOUJAKU. THE AVOIDANT BEHAVIOR: part 2

When we get to the bad ending, the first thing that catches our attention is that it’s not Aoba’s point of view, but Koujaku’s. This is also a thing with most characters as well, but I feel like it takes a very special meaning here because it resonates with previously mentioned themes.

It’s a way of emphasizing that duality between the two of them, that deep down they are the same, and that they are always being a reflection of one another. If the whole game has been under Aoba’s perspective, why change now? Maybe it’s because he loses the ability to speak and it’s a way of telling us what he thinks and what goes through his head during the process of losing sanity, which the others, with the exception of Ren, can do. That’s another thing, when we get the bad ending in the base game we jump straight to Sly telling us how Aoba weakened and disappeared, letting him take control, and that Koujaku also lost all rationality. We assume that Koujaku completely transformed into a beast immediately after the failed Scrap, after all in all the endings when Aoba fails Scrap is when the other goes crazy, but here we learn that that is not the case.

Koujaku is able to wake up, physically drained, but still himself. He’s the first to wake up and sees his group members and Aoba by his side, still worried that he might be dead, that he might have killed him. Platinum Jail guards then come and start taking everyone away.

When he sees that they are taking Aoba away, he tries to call his name, but his throat is torn and his body is too weak to move. Seeing that he can do absolutely nothing to wake Aoba up, he begins to despair, knowing that nothing good can happen if they take him away. With his internal dialogues we can see how far the obsession and desperation goes, repeating his name non stop in his head almost maniacally, repeating his desires to protect him and stop them from taking him no matter what, even if that means his own death or something worse, as long as Aoba is safe.

It’s not Scrap, but these thoughts that really drive him insane. His obsession with Aoba, his love for him, and his willingness to sacrifice himself to keep him safe. The person he swore to protect, his mother, died at his hands, despite all the love she had given him, betraying her in a way. This trauma is extremely shocking to him, and I think you can understand how deep is the shock and terror he feels at the thought of harming Aoba in any shape or form, only for this cycle to repeat itself again and end up doing something unforgivable to Aoba at Glitter. All he could think was that he intended to kill himself when he betrayed his mother, and he would do the same (and kill Ryuuhou in the way since he hurt Aoba too) now that he betrayed Aoba, because a monster like him can’t stay, thinking about what could happen if he lost control again terrifies him.

It almost seems like he’s letting the tattoo consume him just to use its power and free Aoba, that’s all that matters now.

Despite this, he won’t turn into a beast yet, as he later wakes up inside a cell. When Aoba arrives we see him completely changed, his personality and his appearance. We know he’s Sly/Desire, but Koujaku doesn’t even know he exists yet.

Sly begins his torture, one he’s been doing ever since he took control, as this isn’t the first time Koujaku wakes up in this cell. He’s been losing and regaining consciousness constantly for who knows how long, and each time Sly tortures him to break his consciousness, his spirit, his will. He could do it with his power easily (or maybe he knows it won’t work), but he doesn’t bother, he prefers to do it with the most painful words Koujaku could ever hear. That Aoba is gone.

I feel like the reason why Scrap doesn’t affect him as much and why it takes so many tries to fully transform him into a demon is because he’s been dealing with this kind of influence and power for years, working on being able to control it, which resulted in him developing a really, really strong will and mind. Also the reason why his usual anger doesn’t make him lose control, but only his deep, rooted hatred towards Ryuuhou and his devotion, equally intense, for Aoba. Only these intense, personal feelings work against him.

Which by the way, the reason why Aoba can’t keep control is because of the tremendous anxiety and depression that comes over him knowing that he didn’t do Scrap well, constantly blaming himself for having failed him, he becomes so weak that he “becomes someone else”. I find it interesting that the main reason why they both lose their minds is for the well-being of the other. It’s more of that mirroring and parallelism we were talking about. Get a bitch as devoted as this. In a way, they are both captives of themselves, in their own bodies. How poetic.

Sly even tells him that he isn’t completely gone, that he’s still there, but that he’ll beat him up until he’s practically dead, out of revenge, while grinning and laughing out loud, just to take advantage of that little hope left that Aoba will return back to normal to crush him and let it drive him crazy again, because he knows that Koujaku will try to talk to him, that he’ll try to do anything to save him, he knows that his desperation and his love for him will do the rest. He even lets Aoba out for a few seconds, to which Koujaku can only respond by screaming his name while chains pull his body back. Notice how they refer to the beast as an entity, it’s not just the tattoo transforming him, it’s someone else.

There is one thing I want to comment on and it’s that many people over the years have taken this interaction as pure hatred and many times it’s considered that they would basically hate each other even in a good ending, mostly by having Koujaku hating Sly for not being the cute kid he knew (lol). But Sly doesn’t scare him, he’s not intimidated, even if he doesn’t know he exists, of course, always being aware of the limits his violent actions should reach. I feel like Koujaku would sympathize a lot with him in case of meeting him normally, he doesn’t judge his violence, he uses it too, and in his head Sly wouldn’t be worse of a monster than him, as he continuously blames himself for what "he did", no matter what.

One of the key points of his route is acceptance, Aoba accepts Koujaku as he is, and Koujaku accepts him as he is, and that includes Sly. If Aoba accepts that inner “demon” inside Koujaku, he’d do the same with Aoba’s. Beast Koujaku and Sly are equivalent. Also, we can’t forget that the context of the good ending and the bad ending are completely different, with Koujaku chained in a cell while Sly is torturing him. There is no possible reality in which Koujaku could not despise him or go mad with rage after that. I could hardly call it hatred at all, anyway, or at least not in the purest sense.

There’s a line Ryuuhou says in one of Koujaku’s memories that appears when he’s losing control of his body that I think sums it up pretty well, although it varies depending on the translation, because one takes the liberty of using an expression I doubt it’s translated the same in Japanese. The important thing is to keep in mind the comparison of hate and love. It resonates a lot with what one feels in some kind of abusive relationship when someone is extremely dependent on the other person or have been together for so long, or both. If you add knowing that the other person isn’t really bad, but external conditions are the ones that shaped that relationship it’s even harder to make a logical decision. You know it’s wrong, that you would be better off without it, but somehow, you can’t let it go. I feel like this is something specially relatable with familiar relationships, with parents/mentors/whoever raises you.

Koujaku keeps within him an intense love and hate alike, to the point of obsession for both. His love for Aoba is what condemns him. So does his hatred.

He seems to hate Sly, but it’s impossible to separate it from his love. If Koujaku really hated him for that, in the purest form of the word, he would have already tried to kill him, it’s something that Sly himself wonders when he bites him. He could perfectly sink his teeth in a little more and it would be over. Death would be merciful for both of them. His lips can no longer kiss him, so he bites him instead. To a certain degree Koujaku still has something in him capable of thinking, rationalizing even if just a little. In this state, Koujaku still loves him, he prefers to stay by his side as a slave, as much as it hurts him, because losing him is an even worse option. Deep down, no matter how much harm Sly does to him, he is incapable of hating him. As long as Aoba breathes, Koujaku will be there.

[14dayswithyou]

thigh riding Moth- I mean thigh riding moth i mean- thigh riding moth i mean-

ill go ahead and see myself out 🫡

✦゜ANSWERED: heh heh horf >:3 NSFW under the cut!!

"You make the cutest sounds." Their breath is hot against your ear as one of Moth's hands rests against your hip to guide your movements. "I could listen to you aaaall day."

Their words do little to soothe the ache slowly building up inside you — unlike the pleasure you got from grinding yourself against the material of their jeans. But just when it starts to feel good, Moth tauntingly pulls away with a teasing grin on their face.

"What do you need?" As if wanting to feel more of you, Moth pulls you closer to their chest and rests their forehead on your shoulder. "Less touching? More friction?"

A breathy 'please' leaves your lips as you shamelessly grind against your partner's thigh, though they make no attempt to help soothe your ache. Instead, Moth peers up at you with a soft smile and a glint in their eyes.

"Actually... I dunno, love bug. You did interrupt my plans for the evening with your neediness..." Despite their bluff, Moth's tone showed no signs of malice or disappointment. You knew they were only teasing — and had you not been so preoccupied with chasing that high yourself — you surely would've quipped back with a bratty retort of your own.

But alas, you could do little but be at the mercy of Moth's guiding touch as they lean back in their gamer chair to watch you come undone.

"I mean, I was looking forward to reading more about Navier and Heinley tonight... Buuuut someone decided to crawl into my lap and turn my phone off instead." One of Moth's hands glides along your backside in a soothing manner before they finally angle their knee upwards to give you more surface to rut against. "How could I say no to something so tempting?"

Moth's other hand slides up and down your bare thigh as their soft lips brush against the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine. Their hand slowly inches closer and closer to the place you needed the most before—

"How about we make a deal, then? If you can keep still until I finish this chapter, then I'll let you cum on my fingers instead."

[seventeeneightyfine]

get up hamlet :,o

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

with the release of a certain bird adeptus approaching i cannot stop thinking about Foul Legacy befriending an adeptus

you're one of the younger adepti, a solitary, curious bird hidden away in some distant mountain that rarely ever receives visitors, even from the most determined of humans- most mortals are unaware of your existence entirely, but you don't particularly mind. you've never been one to demand worship and total respect, even if living alone on your little mountain can get very quiet from time to time. Cloud Retainer- or Xianyun as she's going by nowadays- and her two daughters occasionally visit, but that's all the traffic your home ever receives. it's fine- you're content tending to your garden and practicing your magic and making little packets of herbs for Xianyun to distribute amongst your fellow adepti.

you're fine. you're not lonely at all.

the other adepti have told you bits and rumors about the ground splitting open, leaking dark, stellar energy from its roots, but you don't quite believe them until you get to witness it for yourself, wings flapping open in surprise when there's a crack and a rumble and suddenly a beast twice your height emerges from the earth- your plants are utterly ruined, and you let out a cry of despair. the monster shakes its head to dislodge the dust and dirt, before turning its one-eyed gaze towards you- but it doesn't attack or even act threatening in the slightest, merely approaching slowly and sniffing the air around you. it suddenly notices the plants and the distressed look in your eyes, and the beast sits back on its haunches, letting out a low, apologetic whine. you're not a vengeful adeptus, though, and silently allow the creature to stay as you tidy up the garden.

his name, as you learn, is Foul Legacy.

in a way you're both oddities, him with his Abyssal traits and you with your incomplete human disguise, feathers standing out on your cheeks and a tiny pair of wings still on your back- it's one of the main reasons you don't venture into the city, along with your hatred of large crowds. one day of company turns to two, then to three, then a week and a month until Foul Legacy is essentially living with you, following you around and helping you with your daily chores. needless to say Xianyun is... not happy when she finds out, but she begrudgingly allows it, saying something along the lines of "one's third child needs to make more friends anyways". and when the eventual time comes that Foul Legacy does depart, he leaves you with a lick on your cheek and a purr, his way of promising to see you again.

so it's by no coincidence when you finally perfect your shapeshifting skills and step foot into the Harbor for the first time, that you meet a man with ginger hair and a playful grin that you've never seen before, but looks so familiar all the same

[that1notetaker]

Doodles while trying to learn how things work. Also Berk buildings!

[fatedroses]

Chance encounters in Costa del Sol.