#the rich will just pick someone else to oppress

[ceoslayers]

Original quotes for the curious 💚

The rich will act "like they understand you, in the back of their jet. When you can't put gas in your tank. These f*ckers are laughing their way to the bank and cashing their check, asking you to have compassion & have some respect."

[dmitriene]

cw: poorly described virginity, simon likes staning pure things, kidnapping.

outlaw!simon riley meeting you as nothing but a pretty waitress at a saloon, standing out among the dimly lit vast room in that you did not look like anyone from the crowd, only an indiscriminate mess of men around you, drunken workers, alcoholics, loudly screaming lovers of starting a conflict, and just someone hiding with a cheap prostitute, cheating on his wife behind the walls of home abode.

simon sees it's like some cruel joke alive, you look like you've just just run away from your daddy's cozy, rich home, or from the convent boarding house like a typical good girl, too bloody clean for this place, and maybe that's why he's enveloped in incomprehensible emotions, clouding his mind with thick wisps of smoke as he moves through the roaring crowd to the farthest table, hiding not only behind the scarlet mask on his face, but also in the murkiness of an unlit corner.

you're not walking around the room, you're sliding, a long dress fluttering at your ankles, open by light shoes with a small heel tapping on the parquet, to the beat of softly played music on the piano nearby, allowing you to occasionally wag your rounded hips under the many skirts of your dress, not paying much attention to the visitors' gliding glances at your bouncing cleavage, but you feel a burning gaze on the back of your neck, until you free your hands from the freshly placed orders, and finally notice a new visitor.

simon catches your gaze on him, his pale eyelashes barely visible in the darkness that envelops him as if in a kinship embrace, so you don't see how his oppressive gaze focuses on the curves of your body, dark irises dilate to swallow the perilous blackness of his lazily hooded eyes, swirling deep with something unsettling, yet you are too pure to notice the clinging, engrained filth on his hands and the meaningfulness of his gaze, smiling greetably like a ray of morning sunshine, closing the distance between you and his table to take an order.

he orders a whiskey, cocks his head aside to lick his eyes up from your toes to your head, and you just pull on a bigger smile and nod obediently, not a word about his rough tone of voice, about the absence of a nice plea for you to bring him some, you go to the counter with your toes turned around and take one of the many brown bottles to fill a nice, clean faceted glass, pouring three fingers of alcohol that smells clearly of vanilla and spice, melting onto the leather and tobacco that penetrates simon's nose as soon as you come back and put the glass next to his gloved hand with a thud.

you peer cautiously through your wispy eyelashes when he hoists the black fabric with skull jaw up, bunching it beneath the edge of the crimson, as well skull shaped mask to take a sip from the glass, and you look at his thin chapped lips that he moistens with tart alcohol, the opened curve of his neck where the mask no longer touches the high collar of his dark shirt, adorned with a gold trinket engraved with a scorpion, and when his lips suddenly stretch in a toothy grin, creasing his eyes that now gleam with amber glows, you almost shriek and turn around, feeling your cheeks warm up.

and simon is not a good man at all, maybe as good as an outlaw can be, but it's nothing compared to your pureness, an innocent glint in your shyly running eyes, clean hands that easily wipe the dirt picked up from visitors on a small, light apron on your waist, and more than once he spoiled things that seemed beautiful to someone, just as he has long lost all shame and sympathy for such things, besides, looking at your reaction, he is quite sure that you yourself would not refuse to end dirtied up, by him.

with your curious glances, the fiddle of your fingers that tremble at contact with his own, not like with everyone else, as he brushes his whole palm against your hand on purpose while crooning about how unsuitable you look around there, and he can't blame himself for the longing want of bending you right here when you giggle, a little ringing sound that provokes him to squeeze his knees under the table because his empty glass is in your hand, and his suddenly aching cock makes his trousers too tight.

it's night behind the wide glass windows at the entrance when people begin to disperse, and the saloon seems to shrink when it's just the two of you, he's still at the rounded, wooden table, and you're knocking empty bottles behind the counter, putting them in a wooden box to return to the storage room, noticing simon's figure behind you not immediately, only when he runs his hand along the curve of your waist and to the dip of your hip, snuggling almost close to your ass, and you shudder barely perceptibly when he hoarsely offers to help.

you don't act surprised or either hard to get when he slaps the wooden door of storage room behind you two, twisting the key and sprawling two heavy hands at your hips, hurriedly turning you to face him before his lips descend against yours, lips open wide in knocked, whiny gasp, when he shoves his tongue in a wet, sloppy kiss between your slack lips, tugging you against him by snaking his hand behind you, pressing onto the small of your back, as he walks you towards the wall.

simon sees how you give him the reins, clumsily following the movement of his tongue in your mouth as he runs it over your teeth and curls the muscle around your own, ripping at his leather gloves that fly off towards the closer of the shelf, getting lost there when his bare, scarred arms bunch your skirts up and he hoists your body, making your legs loope around his waist, heels slipping off with a thud against the wooden floor, and when his touch rubs up your knees and swipes to your thighs, he almost howls at finding the pantaloons that are so uncomfortable to take off.

it's a loud rip of fabric that makes you gasp, sound swallowed by his hungry mouth, as his thick fingers find your puffy folds that drip off with saccharine wetness, making his digits tacky as he spreads your folds and toys at your peaking, neglected clit, as you kick your feet, head tilting back against the wall, making you retreat from the kiss with a shy, whiny moan, and simon smugly sure you have an virgin little hole that drips just for him, wetting the short curls of your pubic hair.

you sweat when he unzips his trousers and let's his fat cock bob out, the veiny girth of him, twitching with oozing, pearly precum that dribbles down his uncut, rudy length makes you throb, and he feels it, fingers already buried in your stretching cunny that is gooey with your glossy juices, coating his digits in glistening sheen as he thrusts them in you, fisting along his leaky dick with other hand, lining up with your pulsing entrance just as he starts to slip his fingers out.

he reinvents you for himself, stretching your thin, silken walls around the meaty girt of his cock, letting you feel every inch that pistons slowly in and out of you, careful, not nearly enough so you won't feel the sting, yet you still moan prettily, each wet glide making you tighten with rapid pulse of your tight walls, snug around every vein that rubs against your gooey insides, the hold of his fingers are bruising at your thighs, staining them with your slick that were clinging to his fingertips, as you moan with strained, whiny mewls.

simon fills you up when you get too tight, starting to arch off the approaching feeling, making his hands glide from your thighs towards your round, plush hips, gripping onto them to grind his cock inside of you, thick cockhead slamming against your spongy little spot with small, deep circles, his eyes boring into the sight of your eyes rolling back, sparks erupting behind your eyelids with each canting movement of his hips, and you wail when his cock jerks and spills ropes of cum against your cervix.

your whole body spasms, the thin walls of your pussy that milk his cock, your legs that tighten around his waist, the painfully arched spine, as your head tilts aside, eyes glassy with eyelids growing heavy, simon's hands moving to support you behind your back, cradling your slowly limping body against his sturdy, clothed chest, as the other finds purchase at the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, letting you breathe into lulling scent of smoke and leather that clings to him like from a bottle of whiskey.

simon's cock still carved in you, your pussy spasming, dripping his milky cum down onto the wooden floor, and there's a satisfied growl rumbling in his chest, the one that makes you nuzzle closer, huffing at his scent and curling your body, and he's never been one to believe in the rules of being obligated to marry a girl with which you've been fornicate, but there's no way in the whole west that he's gonna leave you in this saloon for anyone to have, after being marked by his seed.

not that you have anywhere to run when you wake up at the dawn of a new day, uncomfortably wet between your legs, rocked up and down, fluttering your eyes only to be meet with silent, empty outskirts of the wild west, while cradled against simon's chest, one of his hands holding the horse's rains, making the animal ride slowly, as he holds you close with the other, feeling easily the way you shift, his gaze snapping down at you with a leery twinkle, a crooning purr of “good morning, darlin'„ slipping from under his mask.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[skzaholix]

amore , mio stray kids series

AMORE MIO : otherwise known as "my love" is a collective bunch short love stories about our favorite boys based on songs to celebrate the upcoming love season, winter !

HE'S A GENTLEMAN , c.b - in progress / highschool au / sunshine / grumpy trope ! you've always been one who is oppressive to love, rightfully so, you've been through many heartbreaks. yet, what happens when the one guy you've never shown much of an interest in, shows you what love truly is?

MILLION DOLLAR MAN , l.m - in progress / fake dating trope / holidate au "they say money can't buy happiness, but money bought you, didn't it?" in which the million-dollar man chooses you to be his fake date for each holiday with his nagging family.

ARE YOU LONELY? , s.c - in progress / enemies (?) to lovers / popular prson, loser boy trope being popular doesn't mean having friends, at least friends who are real, so what happens when the only person there for you, is the one person that you hate?

KISS ME , h.h - in progress / she's all that au / popular boy , nerdy other trope popular boy, hwang hyunjin gets peer pressured into a bet to date the nerdy, pretentious, loser of the school and to make them popular in 6 weeks yet, what happens when you become more than just a bet?

LOVE , h.j - finished / starcrossed lovers / rich and poor au / lovesick! jisung " It doesn't matter if I'm not enough for the future or the things to come cause I'm young and in love " you're in different worlds yet individuals who love each other, you've accepted it. you know you can't be together but he just can't get enough.

LOVE STORY , l.f - in progress / starcrossed lovers / prince and painter au months, weeks, days are coming very close til prince felix is crowned king and before he does that, he needs to pick someone to rule with him but, why can't it be you?

I WANNA BE YOURS , k.sm - in progress / fake enemies to lovers / sunshine and grumpy trope in the eyes of seungmin, you're annoying, you're too bright, and definitely too happy so when you take notice of that and decide to hang with someone else, why does it make him... jealous?

THE NIGHT WE MET, y.j - in progress / strangers to lovers / starstruck(?) au you, getting away from a crowd of your family's bodyguards ran into him yang jeongin, the man you'll spend a night of fun, scares and more with

AUTHORS NOTE: happy (almost) holidays everyone, i had so much fun preparing these plots for everyone, i kinda feel like we need more sfw fluff in the skz or even more writing communities so i decided to muster up my very first series lmk what ygs think maybe i'll do more series i also wanted to do something new for some members than expected soooo

[insaniquariumfish]

You can't say that you want people to be free from the oppression of gender whilst emphasizing the importance and significance of gender, and making sure that everyone has a word that describes them in terms of gender, and fixating on what type of gender different activities, roles, preferences, and aesthetics go along with, and treating gender identity as a neutral, innate property of people's beings whilst ignoring the fact that gender itself is a harmful and arbitrary social construct with deep roots in patriarchy.

Not only are you not doing anything to the loosen the chokehold that gender has on society, you are actively helping to keep it in place by ensuring that people are always defined socially by their gender and that gender dominates a person's conception of their identity. Your way of approaching and conceptualizing of gender ensures that the gender binary not only stays in place, but stays strong and polarized, because how else can people be transgender? "Feminine" must continue to be a relevant term, one that means something entirely different from and opposite to "masculine," and both must continue to be conceptually distinguishable from "nonbinary," or else the whole thing falls apart.

What you claim constitutes "fighting against gender" is the equivalent of "fighting against capitalism" by buying an overpriced t-shirt made in a sweatshop and sold by a mega corporation that says "eat the rich" on it. You are not helping to abolish the system. You are painting the gears and sprinkling the pipes with glitter and declaring the result to be something new and better while the actual workings of the system chug on unfazed. You are doing just as much to uphold traditional notions of gender as conservatives.

If you really want to rob gender of its power to harm, then instead of encouraging people to pick the gender identity they're most comfy with, you should be encouraging people to do away with gender altogether. You should cast aside the idea that "man" or "woman" are terms that necessarily must indicate something about someone beyond denoting their physical sex, that gender as a concept is valid and real and useful and needed. Because it isn't. Gender is bullshit, it is arbitrary, it is equally as objectively real as stock values, it cannot indicate or represent any kind of innate truth, and it is fundamentally interwined with patriarchy. True liberation and freedom of identity and expression can only come from true liberation from the idea that gender must be part of that identity and expression, from recognizing oneself as complete and valid without relying on an outdated and ultimately useless concept that is inextricably linked with oppression and harm.

[olderthannetfic]

To the NLOG anon:

I had written a long piece but lost it, so the gist of it is that bullies are social chameleons. They will always try to find a way to get away with bullying while claiming to be the victims. And many of the "bad" NLOGs were girls looking for ways to recreate the status quo with them at the top instead.

I think that NLOGs were a natural result of the post 9/11 conservative paranoia of "anyone who is not a good American™ is a Satanic Menace to Society" (where good American meant white, christian, affluent, thin, conventionally attractive, straight...and everybody else, from foreigners, fat people, anyone gender non conforming or even alternative people were "planning the downfall of civilization"). In that climate, harassment towards "the weird" was not only tolerated but encouraged as the moral thing to do.

And the thing is, if you are ostracized from society but discouraged to learn about feminism and such, then it's no wonder that your only way of defending yourself is by using the same attacks used against you!

The big change here I think came with the recession where suddenly society became fascinated with the weird, and being a hipster or a nerdy girl was "acceptable" (hence the "golden years" of Tumblr). Many of the bullies who had gained notoriety thanks to their privilege suddenly realised they couldn't get away with it as talk about discrimination and feminism was becoming more commonplace, and so many people adopted NLOG looks and attitudes to keep doing society approved bullying.

Nowadays tho you don't see many NLOGs because, like you said, we either know better now and have deconstructed ourselves or simply because in this era of "bring back bullying" most people don't need to hide behind underprivileged people to harass someone. If they want to hate on other women they can just become a tradwife/high value woman and go back to the conservative politics of the 2000s or they can pick a bit of #girlbossfeminism while going back to their hyper feminine roots to claim *throws dice* that you have to like pink or you have internalised misogyny and that you should just try to fit into the mold, for your own good, you know.

So yeah, those who want to oppress will find a way to do so under any costume, while being the loudest and sidelining the rest of us. There's nothing to do about it, unfortunately :(

--

I mean... sure...

But the actual phrase "not like the other girls" rose to prominence to point out how fucking obnoxious a class of book is for its heroine who is always like "I don't want to stay home and do needlework!" and then the book is set in some era when rich ladies are supposed to be running an entire manor house or something, not just embroider, and the author has blatantly missed all of that. Or it's some Anita Blake bullshit where the heroine hates literally every other woman, and especially all of them with blond hair because the author is insecure and bugfuck nuts.

It's a specific dumb trope in fiction and term in criticism of that dumb trope.

[nottobeadickoranything]

The myth of the libertarian

The funniest/most annoying thing about libertarians is that they refuse to believe that someone being born with parents who have $10 million in the bank are not born better off than someone who's net worth is negative-$5000, then to have to go and live in an extremist-capitalist country with no social safety nets, they think there is zero difference here. It's like, obviously wrong, but lets dig deeper about the why it is wrong. Libertarians refuse to believe there is a difference here, and that is exactly the point where libertarianism becomes instantly useless and irrelevant. Its nonsense, yet baby brained people who fell into this rookie hole will scream at you that they are right and everyone else is wrong.

Thing is, a UBI would make libertarianism a lot more sensical. And these same frauds turn around and say "free money is big govt and big govt is bad" but capitalism with the social safety nets you removed is much much worse than big govt! It's here where you first notice how hard born-rich people will dig in their heels about giving free money to poor people, which under this broken capitalism, is the only way to solve all of the problems the broken capitalism created.

Then when you look at who these libertarians are: lots of people who lived to 18 without touching poverty. Meanwhile there's people who live their entire lives in poverty, which is not their fault. They should have been born with plenty of money to live on. The fact that libertarians argue against this reality, just further shows the libertarian argument is a pure bad faith argument created and pushed by the rich, to keep the rest of us poor. These same chuds talk about "hard work" and "earning it" but then make 1 phone call and call it "hard work" and act like they are the same as someone else who has to do backbreaking labor for 50 years. Its nonsense. Its all about oppression. Oppressing the poor.

No, the 2024 libertarian is a psyop, its a "for us by us" tactic used by the upper class, the rich. The main reason it exists is so it can prevent the richest country in the world from giving free money to poor people, so no one is poor, which improves everyone's lives poor or rich, which is how the "richest country in the world" should be acting. Its this corrupt rich minority who push these bad faith, idiotic concepts like "libertarian + "no safety nets for all, just the rich"-type capitalism = same as everyone starting off at the same spot". Right there, that is incorrect. It is this broken capitalism that ruined the concept of libertarianism, but this corrupted concept was picked up by the rich to use against the rest of the country, as was stated what the rich wanted to do to everyone, as shown in the Panama Papers.

[itspileofgoodthings]

🌟 ahhhhh!!!!!!

Cate!! I was hoping you'd play because you're one of the people I had a revelation about!

Your Austen heroine: Anne Elliot

So there's the obvious comparisons--deep feeling, deep thinking, loyal, loving--and the obvious differences--your family is nicer to you than Anne's, also Italian not repressed British, and you are more ....sparkly? than Anne for sure? If that's the word I want but honestly the thing that made me pick her for you is the thing I've been reflecting on for a while which is: you don't analyze yourself, even though you are brilliant at analyzing everything! Because Anne's don't analyze themselves!!!! They reflect deeply: on the past, on the world, on ideas and novels and poetry and sure sometimes on their own actions, but it's not self-analysis in the sense of really trying to put together an accurate picture of themselves and their personality. Even though Anne's are introverted the focus isn't on themselves but something else they can look at and understand and then articulate.

And I think it's that quality that draws people to an Anne like a magnet. People LOVE you lol. not to put too fine a point on it!!! Or embarrass you!! But I've always been so struck by it because you also have (I think?) the reserve and discretion of an introvert while still being someone who absolutely draws people in and around you. And it's because you're so insightful but not self-absorbed! So you listen to people, are compassionate with them, always have something to contribute that is meaningful and insightful because you're genuinely interested in whatever's going on with someone and in the Great Goings On of the World and Life!! And that is so cool and I think so Anne of you, because she is someone who despite her oppressive family has a rich circle of people who love her and who benefit from her insights and wisdom.

I think there might also be something that is similar in the sense that Anne wAS in her lying in the grass era for a long time, partly because she had to be but she did it with such grace and perseverance! There's also something about the need to trust your own sense of timing over other people's I think but that is just a guess.

And on that note, I think that's a good place to stop lol.

[fairyrebelled]

noah. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

Is that DYLAN SPRAYBERRY? No, that’s NOAH GREENE. The 21 year old FAIRY OMEGA MALE (HE/HIM) is a/an/the STUDENT & ASSISTANT (TO THE FAIR FOLK COUNCIL). If you ask their friends, they’re known to be CONFIDENT & INDEPENDENT, but beware, they’re also known to be RECKLESS & REBELLIOUS. Can you believe they’re from THE PRESENT? Me either. 

BASIC INFO

full name — Noah Greene age — twenty (april 1st) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) second gender — omega  occupation — faircouncil slave assistant clothing style — punk-ish, holes, tears, pins etc. and jeans

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Dylan Sprayberry hair — brown / eyes — blue height — five foot & five inches build — compact, lil stocky but thin waist and big arms scars — a few from fights he picked by spreading his no-shits-given attitude tattoos — a few, family emblem on his wrist (not his decision), an anarchy for fae logo on the back of his neck piercings — a bunch, eyebrow, ear, nipples, lip special characteristics — no shits given attitude, will pop the finger at pretty much everybody sexual preference— bratty bottom sub kinks — breeding, tell him what a good boy he is, praise, nipple play (pierciiiiiings), spanking, put pretty things on him (a shiny plug or collar or something), manhandling (he's a brat, be ready) anti-kinks — scat, gore

PERSONALITY

alignment — chaotic neutral positive traits — confident, independent, kind negative traits — reckless, rebellious, brat, feisty, unfriendly hobbies — rebellion keeps him busy

MEDICAL INFO

mental — n/a physical — healthy bby phobias — n/a eyesight — 17/20 dominant hand — right hand drug use — nop alcohol use — yep, even tho he's not allowed oops. diet — annoyed by all the fancy-ass rich people food from home, he's big into fast food

BACKGROUND

birthplace — new haven, CT parents — Alkara Greene & Noraine Greene   siblings — Alwyn, Islwyn and Shania (all older by 10 ish years) education — high school drop out notable skills — fighting his parents, arguing about the exact same thing over and over and over, disagreeing with everything someone else says

Born with not only a silverspoon in his proverbial mouth, but an entire collection of silver cutlery, Noah should've grown up to be the happiest child with the most fulfilled life one could imagine. And for a long time it was exactly that, or it felt like it, but Noah never quite felt like he ... was right where he was. It might've been the fact his siblings were all much older than him and he'd been somewhat of an accident, or maybe it was because they were all so incredibly good at everything - they were Fairies after all, that he just .. knew he'd never be able to compete.

They were tall, blonde, blue-eyed and smart. Alwyn was going to law school - a year early than was normal, Islwyn was a resident at the hospital and Shania had just opened her own restaurant under the ever-watchful eye of the town's council. They were all in meaningful and yet arranged relationships with other Fairy partners and it was honestly kind of disgusting to watch sometimes. It wasn't normal, being so goddamn perfect.

And so Noah decided to be the exact opposite. No oppression, no ... letting them dictate life for him, no pushing him into being someone he wasn't. He was wild, he didn't like school, he didn't like authority, he ... just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to fuck shit up and leave a path of destruction in his wake. It wasn't even that he hated his family, he just ... didn't want to be part of it. Sure, they probably loved him, but ... they sucked at showing it - really.

He ran away from home a few times, slept in abandoned buildings (yes, even New Haven had some) out by the fields, but someone always found him and he was dragged back - kicking and screaming to once again find himself in a golden cage of .... wealth. Ungrateful, spoiled, brat. He was aware, thank you, but he also couldn't give any less shits than ... none.

So, he got himself into trouble. He stole from the mall, he cracked windows of store wherever he went, his trusty bat always with him wherever he went and he picked fights whenever he could. It was... freeing, feeling his blood pumping and adrenaline take over. But it never lasted unfortunately and so he kept on going higher and further - harder and faster.

Until he got himself caught. Again. Only this time ... the council was involved and Noah was faced with two options. Be the first Fairy in jail among vampires, weres and sharks or ... work for a better future. My ass, what a bunch of nonsense. But he ... had no other option than to accept, because no way in fucking hell was he going to replace his golden cage with iron bars.

And so he met Dallas Song.

[maxdibert]

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

No, James wasn’t the reincarnation of the devil. James was a spoiled rich kid who tortured people because he was bored. It’s in the books: Severus wasn’t his only victim, and James enjoyed hexing people in the corridors simply because they annoyed him at the moment. That’s the definition of a bully, because there’s no mention that the people he tormented were future Death Eaters, so they could very well have been just random kids who happened to be there, and he felt entitled to bother them because he was a rich kid from a pure-blood family who had been raised in luxury and probably thought the world belonged to him. Does that make him the devil? No. Does it make him a massive jerk? Absolutely.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame,

Severus became a Death Eater — literally stated by Rowling — because he was looking for a place to belong, where he could feel important and gain power. Considering he was a half-blood raised among Muggles in a terribly poor environment, it’s not hard to understand why he had that need to feel important. If we also consider the years of violence he endured, we don’t need a degree in psychology to see where his attraction to power came from. It’s basic analysis; it’s understanding the context.

In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different.

Are you talking about Petunia, who insulted him as soon as she met him, mocked him for wearing girls’ clothes, and called him a freak and weirdo whenever she could? Because if you want, we can get into the classism dripping from that child’s comments. In any case, it’s well established that the incident with Petunia was an accident.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James

James and Sirius start mocking Severus during their first encounter on the train, without knowing whether he liked the Dark Arts or not. Saying they hated him because of his taste for the Dark Arts when they had already chosen him as a target before even knowing his name seems like deliberately ignoring canon to suit an argument that’s already shaky at best.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years.

As I’ve said, James targeted Severus from the start; he was the one who initiated the attacks from day one. Ignoring this and saying that James only hit him, chased him, and publicly humiliated him as some sort of vigilante defending the oppressed is utterly ridiculous. First, because he was a kid with economic and social superiority and strong family support picking on someone with no resources. Second, because he always had his friends with him while Severus was alone. And third, because the fact that James went around tormenting other students shows that the problem wasn’t Severus being who he was, but that James was a damn bully. Plus, you emphasize the Dark Magic aspect, but I don’t see you mentioning James and Sirius attacking another student with an illegal spell. A student who, by all indications, wasn’t a dark wizard or a Slytherin. Again, your argument falls apart.

James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp).

Literally, Sirius and Remus tell Harry when he asks if James continued messing with Severus that Severus was a “special case,” making it clear that no, James didn’t stop messing with him; Severus was his “special case.” What the hell are you talking about?

the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself -

False, Rowling established on Pottermore that Severus’s father did, in fact, hit him. I can understand if you don’t accept anything that’s not in the books, but you just denied that this information exists, and that’s a lie. That information is there; Rowling said it, so we can consider it canon and say that, indeed, Severus came from a violent childhood. And even if his father hadn’t hit him, it’s established that he came from a very poor and dysfunctional family to the point of feeling lonely, isolated, and unable to afford proper clothes.

Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Did he have the option to stay close to Lily? How? By dating her and hanging out with her friends, who were also buddies with the guys bullying him 24/7? By somehow getting accepted among people in a house where the kings were precisely his main tormentors? And then what? Endure them mistreating, humiliating, and marginalizing him in Slytherin for dating those people? Spend seven years of his life surrounded by people who hated him and would have made his life even more unbearable than the Marauders did? And if not that, what else? Leave school to do what? Return to his miserable neighborhood to live in absolute poverty?

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

No, Severus wasn’t a dark and sinister being before meeting James. Snape was a child in a vulnerable situation and at risk of social exclusion, and this is easy to understand if you know the context of the time and what it meant to live in a poor neighborhood in an industrial city. Kids like him already have very few opportunities for success and for improving their social standing. Magic was one of those paths, but instead of finding a better place at Hogwarts, he encountered two arrogant jerks who started bothering him on his first train ride. Two arrogant jerks who were rich, who had economic and social power, who came from important families. Two kids who mistreated him, humiliated him publicly, and one of them even attempted to murder him. Two kids who were never sanctioned or expelled for their actions.

He found a house where, if he adapted, they offered him a way to rise out of his miserable situation and achieve his aspirations and gain the power he had never had, but where he was also cannon fodder if he didn’t adapt due to his half-blood status. He found a group of people who seemed to accept him and who made him feel useful, and like so many other kids in his same socioeconomic situation, he fell into that trap.

Honestly, ignoring Severus’s entire context and reducing him to an evil and resentful child is massively classist. But considering how you dismiss canon entirely to defend rich, almost aristocratic brats who enjoyed tormenting working-class kids, it doesn’t surprise me that you have that kind of terrible mentality.

No James wasn’t the devil and snape wasn’t his innocent victim.

Lately I’ve seen Snape Stans insisting that snape only became a death eater because of James or Sirius or his father or anyone else they want to blame, and that snape was innocent before hogwarts and innocent in all of his choices. It’s clear in the books that this is not the case. In the flashback scenes which take place before hogwarts, snape intentionally attacks a muggle with magic and makes it clear to lily that he sees her as an exception to blood purity and other muggleborns because she’s different. When lily asks him if her blood status matters he hesitates before saying it doesn’t matter, this is because it does matter to him but he thinks that she is special enough anyway. Not to mention that snape began using slurs against muggleborns before saying it to lily in fifth year, which she reveals she knew about when he tried to apologise for it.

Snape also already knew more dark magic than most adults as an incoming first year, which is listed as one of the reasons that snape was so hated by James, as Sirius and Remus say that James was always against dark magic and blood purity. Snape was using dark magic as a student early on, lily mentions he and his friends using dark magic - even against another student which snape says was just a “joke”.

I cannot find it reasonable to hate James for hating snape when snape was using dark magic and slurs on other students and clearly well on the way to being a death eater even in the early years. James learnt he took things too far as he grew up and began to avoid snape not wanting to provoke a fight, and snape would seek him out to attack him causing James to defend himself (ootp). This is not the actions of an innocent boy and his devilish bully this is a rivalry with the tensions of the war looming over them.

Also, the idea that snape was abused by his muggle father, and therefore it’s somehow okay that he became a death eater, is essentially a headcanon and a weird one. The only mention of his parents in the books is that they argue with each other and that his father is a generally miserable person- but not abusive. The idea of snape being whipped by his father came from a website, not the books or the movies or even written by jkr herself - it is therefore not canon. It is also so weird for people to try and justify snape becoming the equivalent of a Nazi because his father abused him and he happened to be a muggle, when snape grew up in a muggle neighbourhood and would have had many other experiences with muggles that were not abusive. It’s just nonsense.

Furthermore, trying to justify snape being a death eater by saying he had no other choice because he was a slytherin is again nonsense. Not every slytherin became a death eater and most people were not involved in the war based on the size of the order of the phoenix and the original named death eaters. Snape was not forced to be a death eater simply by proximity, he could have chosen to remain close to lily or other people who were not involved in the war- but he did not. He chose to be a death eater for the power and freedom to use dark magic, and because he was a blood purist as a younger man even if he grew out of it later in life.

Overall, it’s just not true to claim that the actions of James or anyone else are the reason snape “turned out” the way he did. The rivalry with James did not make snape turn out how he did because he was already like that before he even met James.

Snape is a very grey character, in my opinion more dark than light, and trying to justify his terrible behaviour by blaming everyone else takes away from the depth of his character and is also just not accurate to the canon.

[dailyadventureprompts]

I just discovered your blog and I love it a lot! You have such a rich understanding of dnd and a lot of creativity! I was wondering if you could do a monsters reimagined on illithids/mindflayers? They are so iconic and I love them, I think a good idea for them is to keep the weird hivemind and brain eating and psionics, but ditch the tadpole concept. I would also just like to know how they came to be as they are right now, like. How did we get here?? Thanks!!

Monsters Reimagined: Mindflayers

The illithid have been a popular ask for reimaginings but It's taken me a while to get around to them in part because unlike a lot of the other features on monsters reimagined, their lore/execution within the game doesn't rest on a specific problematic trope or inconsistent storytelling. Mindflayers as they stand IMO are one of d&d's great villains, and if anything suffer from being too successful to the point of overexposure.

It took the asker remarking on how much they liked mindflayers for me to give them the onceover they really deserved. Yes, they worked great as antagonists ( being irredeemable slavers who violate the minds and bodies of those they subjugate, working inevitably towards the most awful ends), but their villany was born out of the same shallow bioessentialism as “always evil” orcs,IE inherent to their character. I’m a firm believer in the idea that if something is capable of making decisions, it’s capable of deciding not to be a bastard, so If I was going to overhaul the illithid, I’d need to get to the roots of why the squid headed bastards were the way they were.

TLDR: What we know today as the mindflayers are in fact the remnants of a long dead world, with many of their most monstrous qualities being bioengineered attempts to stave off the inevitable and hold onto their power. The “Elder brains” which rule the illithid are tyrants, the ultimate class parasites, who indoctrinate and mentally dominate the other mindflayers into acting as tools of domination over the peoples they consider chattel. Is possible for an individual illithid to break free of this system, but doing so is difficult, as it requires them to not only break out of any magical compulsion, but to abandon the paradigms that have defined their existence.

Spoiler alert: we’re going to be talking about white supremacy in this one

I think someone described it pretty succinctly that alien invasion stories are something that industrial nations invented when they started imagining what would happen if a more advanced people came along and started doing to them what they’d be doing to everyone else in the world.  Mindflayers (and a few other aberrations) fill that niche in oldschool d&d, with the low levels made up of the feudal heroes largely picking on “uninteligent” tribal brutes, only to hit level 7 or so where all of a sudden they’re fighting creatures who’s intelligence exceeds their own. 

The weird thing is how in the alien invasion stories, the aliens always want to enslave humanity.. Despite imagining the technology required to cross the vastness of space, the authors were unable to conceive of a world outside of the hierarchies of exploitation, even in the case of benign colonization like “day the earth stood still” and “childhood’s end”.

I’ve talked before about how d&d has a lot of baked-in tropes that assumes colonialism and racial supremicy as a default, but today we’re going to look at things form the other angle. Namely: can we use the mindflayers to talk about systems of oppression and how they manipulate us into being complacent tools with colonialism and genocide. 

First though, a detour on illithid biology/feeding, and how I’ve tried to make it make sense:  

In addition to a mostly vestigal digestive system, mindflayers possess adaptations that allow them to turn psychic energy into health and wellbeing, with their feeding being something like running a magnet over a computer screen except that the screen is a brain. This can be done delicately so as to case no long term damage, but sometimes it’s faster to just shuck the brain out and be done with it.

On their homeworld, the illithid cultivated a form of “thinking fungus” that draws in stray thought energy from the astral sea, the stray equivalent of radio static. This fungus grows around many mindflayer settlements and is one of the dead giveaways that they’ve moved into the region.

 The goal of every illithid is to prove themselves so at the end of their life (or sooner) they can join with the elderbrain, a grotesque amalgamation of all the most bastardly awful mindflayer’s brains that lives in a big tank in the center of their settlements ( or pilots their spelljammer ships) and mentally influences everything in a 5 mile radius. The elder brain creates a reinforcing social pressure: if you’re not doing everything you can to serve it, you’ll be culled, and if you don’t do your absolute best ( or if the elderbrain is just feeling cruel) your whole life will be for nothing. These brains are not a natural part of the illithid lifecycle, and are instead more equivalent to liches: influential mindflayers that learned that they could force others of their kind to tribute psionic energy through thier bonds, extending their life long beyond where their bodies can keep up. By ensuring that only those most useful join the gesthalt, the original ego ensures that no other personality is capable of overtaking their own.

Every so often in their life, mindflayers reproduce by regurgitating a load of parasitic tadpoles into the elderbrain pool where the weak ones get to be its snacks, and the strong ones get implanted into the skulls of promising candidates who’s brains are eaten as they’re transformed into new midnflayers. All of this is super squick, but what’s almost nonsensical is the fact that left to their own devices the tadpoles grow up into colossal, borderline feral worm monsters, meaning that in their natural state no one would be around to put the tadpoles in anyone’s heads. I rationalize this as the result of extensive biomancy augmentations that occured in the illithid’s development, a “cure” for the sterility imposed by their dying world and a handy means of population control/indoctrination for the elder brain, who’s able to etch the basics of its own personality onto each tadpole as it prepares to take a host.

And here we’ll bring the two ideas together, about how illithid can help represent white supremacy:  Like all imperialist or autocratic systems, the society of the mindflayers is self reinforcing, creating a population of desperate individuals and using their desperation to turn them into a tool to benefit those at the system’s top. Every illithid is not only born with the elderbrain’s world view as the foundation of its mind, the society in which it is raised is set up so that the only metric of growth or success is being useful to the elder brain, with any deviancy from expectation ( incluging over ambition) are dealt with harshly to the point of execution.

An indivual illithid could break free, but that would require a depth of personal examination is frowned upon in mindflayer circles, as well as the acceptance that there is a way to live outside the elderbrain’s guidance without going hungry and devouring their own sapience like the pale and wretched creatures that outsiders call “illithid vampires” 

Much like racism,misogyny, imperialism, capitalism and fascism, the society of mindflayers creates a desperate population that are convinced that the only way to be is to be in a particular way that ends up benefiting those at the very top. Breaking free takes a tremendous amount of bravery, and a willingness to alienate yourself from all you thought familiar and true in the process.

Art

[ladyluscinia]

As someone who is nebulously in the “Izzy is a bad person/ not an Izzy fan” camp, your posts have helped me realize something pretty important. A big part of why I hold those opinions is because I view Izzy through the lens of symbol and allegory rather than complex personhood. Maybe that’ll change in season 2 as we learn more about him, but as of now I think that’s a big reason why I and many others are quick to judge and excuse wrong doing against him. For some it’s simply difficult to connect with him as a character, and much more accessible to see him as a reminder of hypocrisy within the queer community. Hell even a reminder of that one old friend who for whatever reason just CANNOT let the fact that you’re growing as a person go.

I don’t know, what do you think about the concept of there being a difference between analyzing characters as people and analyzing them as representations of larger societal issues?

Interesting question...

I mean, I am a big proponent of "characters aren't real people and that's important to remember when discussing them", which does dovetail nicely with a lot of discussion on "What is this character in the story?" And a character being a symbol or representation of something else abstract or systemic is a perfectly valid option. Nigel Badminton, for example, has a twin brother who loved him, but absolutely none of us give a shit about how his death affected Chauncey emotionally because both of them are really just symbols of oppressive societal power / Stede's childhood trauma / bullies in general / etc. The show only cares about their deaths insomuch as it affects Stede, and Stede literally admits he doesn't even feel bad about it.

They are such straightforward examples of narrative tools all the way down to their deaths, which are pure symbolism via black humor. Like, Nigel falls on his own sword because he can't stop mocking Stede to take him seriously for two seconds, and Chauncey shoots himself in the head the moment he fulfills his role in Stede's story because it's a hilariously dark joke that this happened to Stede twice.

To take this to Izzy however... Ok, so three major questions once you think a character is representing something:

What is this character representing?

What is the story trying to say about it?

How direct is the represention? Or to put it another way: How much of a person are they vs just a symbol?

Because most characters with any decent amount of screentime are going to naturally become more "people" than "symbol". It's not an either/or situation. OFMD creators have been very open about how the show is looking at toxic masculinity, for example, so I think it's pretty safe to say Izzy is the character on screen most pushing that mindset via the abusive pirate culture he's firmly planted in. I also think the show has a lot to say about classism, and Stede is pretty obviously the designated character for that. (I also think Lucius is, because he's kinda picking up the furthest extreme of Stede's version of piracy just like Izzy is Edward's, but that's a meta a little to the left of what you asked.)

But Stede is a lot more than just "rich guy", and despite the fact you don't exactly root for the rich guys in classism narratives, we are supposed to root for Stede. His arc is about learning. The show's message is broadly not upper class positive - look at the French partiers - but Stede can escape it in a way they can't because he's also a character in his own right, and the show's overriding theme is about growth.

I think Izzy is certainly complex enough to be a character, unlike the other antagonists who are kept mostly offscreen. He has a major connection to one of the mains, which tends to automatically convey a level of depth. He also just... doesn't function effectively as a pure symbol of oppression, because he's not bad enough. There's so many writing decisions where it would have been so easy to make him worse. More aggressive. More textually bigoted. More directly harmful. And they didn't. (...Fuck it. Linking to that time I said this and got immediately blocked.)

An example that's been getting me recently: In his very first episode, why didn't Izzy steal the hostages? That's like basic antagonist setup. Especially for people that think overt racism is at play here at all (I very much do not) it would be the simplest thing in the world to have him steal them from the natives for some stupidly easy early work on that front, and establish it with a line of dialogue. Instead the line we get is "Oh, we sold them to some guys." They had him pay for them.

And all of this I think ties back into that second question of "what is the show trying to say," because I do not think the answer is "Izzy is just our stand in for bad people and we do not care about him." Especially not if he's the designated representation of toxic masculinity, because I think Izzy-as-a-character is clearly suffering under toxic masculinity. He's specifically also a victim of the system, and it's kind of a fucked up and pessimistic message to say victims of a shitty system deserve to be written off as a comedic punching bag and die unhappy. Isn't it better thematically if he's a person like Stede who can learn to be better???

We're in a world where Edward's backslide into the toxic masculinity aligned system starts with 7 attempted murders + mutilation and abduction, and we're going to forgive this and give him a happy ending. At this point the show's message is approaching incoherent if Izzy is irredeemably evil and deserves to suffer.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡���� | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.’”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is…" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

[azhdakha]

Seen a very good post regarding the responsibility of _ordinary russian people_, but hence I'm unfortunately blocked by the op, I'll just write my thoughts on the matter.

This is, first of all, for you, dear followers or anyone reading this post from Russia. And don't get defensive, I'm also from there.

Revolutions are not made by soyboys. I'm sorry. I completely understand that no revolution happens without the support of army or a strong opposition that already has power in the official structures. Which, for example, how it worked in Ukraine. But it doesn't happen out of nothing. It's not like you're gonna sit and wait for one of these things to magically happen on itself. No, you need to work for that. I know that we're very small in numbers. Yet this isn't the sole problem. The main problem is that we're weak-willed, apathetic, indifferent, coward and disorganized. This is the hard truth that we have to digest - those guys up there, armed, rich and powerfull, aren't gonna do shit until you pick up a stone jn your hands. If you want a revolution to happen you need to fight. And fighting means you have to be ready to get violent, you have to be strong. I know that unfortunately it happened so that the majority of those who are anti-imperalist and anti-war are pacifists. But much more unfortunately more of them are simply not ready to fight. Cowardness or weakness, or simply lack of understanding. So two years after you accused and bashed BLM protesters for not being peaceful, for riots, here you are, smart experts on how a protest should go.

I've seen some write that one cop was enough to make russian protesters run. And this is not true - no matter how big a protest was, the number of cops was nearly the same as the number of protesters, sometimes even bigger(streets were flooded with cops, as if an army entered the city). Add the fact that the last ones were armed, heavily armed, trained and all. So this proves my point once again - to stand up against these guys - you need people and you need strength. Peaceful protests don't change nothing even in Europe. Riots do. But riots need preparation and organized power.

Look, I know that decades of oppressive government and a number of revolts that eventually ended with bloodshed and devastation had broken our will to do anything about the political life of the country. About OUR life. I used to think the same way. But it's one thing when you choose to remain silent and complicit about your own suffering and what's government doing to you in your country. That's your own life, your own country and your own choice. But when someone else is harmed by your government - that's when you already have no moral right to remain complicit. And, believe me, even if you're poor, even if you have children or someone else to take care of(several people actually don't), even if you don't want to be left with no education and no job(Which I agree, is of no use if our opposition will be if poor people with no education. Even if this education doesn't matter abroad, it's still better than working as a retail store cashier) - there are several remotely safe ways to help, several kinds of work to do to help people from Ukraine or dismantle the regime. Donate money, donate clothes and other necessary things to the refugees, helpful them move, help them find accommodation or leave the country(Russia - they're not safe here), volunteer to help the organizations that protect citizen's rights like OVDinfo. Learn the laws at last. Educate yourself. You'll be armed against the government at least somehow. Organize opposition cells offline, talk to your friends that are already against the war, build connections. I understand that this is a long-term work requires constant effort, much harder than to just go around and tie green ribbons or put posters or graffitis. I understand - you put a ribbon and you already feel like you're a hero and that's all. Your concience is fed. But other than helping other protesters feel that they're not alone, it doesn't change anything.

And let me conclude with this: no one says you're guilty. But it's your responsibility to do something. That's why everyone has trying to tell you. Listen, before getting defensive. Do something. Accumulate strength. Grow.

[welpnotagain]

the usamerican hyper-individualism that is infecting everything and everyone that consumes usamerican media, which you simply cannot easily avoid as a user of the internet, is bad actually. It makes you less conscious of your peers and genuinely makes you believe you have more in common with billionaires and billion dollar companies rather than with someone from a culturally vastly different background whose also living paycheck to paycheck. The rich have more class consciousness than some under the poverty line, 4 jobs 7 days a week 365 days a year 0 days of paid sick leave couldn't make it to grannies funeral because I couldn't afford the plane ticket and I needed to pick up a shift for my manager anyways, workers.

"You don't see ME crying while I fight for survival." Yeah, maybe you should. Or maybe you would but you frankly don't have the time to. Maybe instead of being a condescending dickhead upholding the oppressive system that forces you to overwork yourself so you and your roommate can be underpaid and pay the unreasonably high rent for your 2 room shared apartment in an underfunded neighbourhood of the city you could show compassion. Have you considered that?

You can't outrun burnout forever, you know? And then it will be you crying while others give you the exact same treatment. It will be you spirit and body broken while others tell you that at least THEY aren't crying and YOU need to get a grip. And you'll lose so much, might even end up on the street, unable to afford what you need to heal and recover. You might end up alone.

All because you and people like you refuse to acknowledge you will never be rich. And even if you do by some miracle end up rich. You have already been so poisoned that instead of acknowledging that what you have been through to get to this point was grueling and simply shouldn't have happened you'll think well I didn't receive help so I sure hope others suffer the same way if not more than I did.

You act like you will one day be part of the rich and thusly act in their intrest. You have preemptively adopted the "class consciousness" of someone in the top 1%. In consequence you make it more difficult for yourself and others like you to ever achieve that step up in class. You live in your delusion so much so that you preemptively need to make it harder for people to join in on your "future success". So you refuse to improve your own situation. If it means you are also improving the situation of others it's not worth it, lest they actually make the jump into the 1% while you are stuck in your improved condition. You can't have that. That was supposed to be you! It's literally like gambling. High risk absolutely no reward.

With the vague promise that You, yes you!, might one day join the illustrious, thin ranks of the ultra rich the already ultra rich made sure you yourself uphold the system that is killing you and everyone like you. And you do it (maybe you don't even notice it) because there is a chance that one day you might join the people up there sitting on thrones on the stone that is currently crushing you and everyone you know. And you're not willing to possibly sit in a less nice chair on a less massive stone because that is what you were promised, you want the throne and you want it on the damn stone you yourself are upholding dammit, and you're not settling for less. Even if it means the burden for the people, who are just like you, underneath the stone becomes heavier and heavier.

That's the exact same reason usamericans dont want to get rid of overpriced tuition fees. You need everyone else to carry the same if not a heavier load on their back because should you really do make it onto the stone (you won't) into one of the thrones (it won't happen) you can't have more people achieve the same. If that happens the stone might not be held up quite as high. Maybe to save space on the stone you need to get a less luxurious throne. If there is less people under the same stone they won't be able to hold it up at all, so you might even need to switch to a less heavy stone! And you don't want that. You were promised!

You earned this throne by hard work and probably a good amount of luck. So while you're still underneath the stone holding it up with everyone else, who is just like you, you make sure that it is getting more and more difficult to climb up and escape from underneath it. Just like the people sitting on the thrones -who aren't like you, who have never been under the boulder- have trained you to do. If you do that, when you make it on top of the stone (you won't make it) you too get to enjoy being uphold and sitting comfortably on a throne. Finally you'll be working together with the people, who are nothing like you who were disgusted when they saw you successfully climb up, to make sure noone else, who'd be just like you, makes it up here as well.

So you do what you have always done. But this time you're on the boulder, you grip your throne as tightly as you can (the others, who could never understand you because they are nothing like you (yet), would push you down the boulder, back underneath it given half a chance) and you bend down just far enough so the people, who you used to be like, can hear your whisper "you know if you carry us high enough you could also sit on top of the stone in a luxurious throne, but if others make it up before you, we might not have enough space left and you'll fall back down. That wouldn't be fair, now would it? So work hard enough, make it up here and it will all be worth it. People will carry you and you'll be able to finally enjoy life. If you just keep holding up the stone, give it your all and never complain, your time will come (it won't. I'll make sure of it)."

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Blessings Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 祝福之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 28 April 2021 ]

In this desert, there are two legendary figures.

One is a young girl blessed by God, and the other is a bandit who strikes terror in people.

God will bestow the most valuable riches in the world to the young girl in the future, which makes everyone want to own her for themselves.

There is only one person who has absolutely no interest in her -

The bandit who has already seized all the gold, silver and jewels.

-

On this gloomy night, scorching heat seems to cover every inch of land.

A crowd is packed into the cage of a horse-drawn carriage. Lowering my head, I tighten the scarf on my neck.

All of a sudden, the carriage halts outside a large gate.

Bodyguard: We want to make a transaction with your chief, and we guarantee that you'd be satisfied. 

Along with the gradual opening of the gate, what enters my vision is a high wall made of clay, and what looks to be a heavy guarded campground.

The carriage passes through a long sheltered corridor, halting in front of a large bonfire. After that, the slave owner pulls us down from the carriage roughly.

The slave owner before me is someone who commands great respect, and relies on human trafficking to earn huge amounts of money.

Slave owner: Gavin, I’ll go straight to the point.

Hearing the rumoured name, I lift my head towards the man seated on a chair.

Amber eyes reflect the flickering flames, shrouding a strong, dangerous aura.

He leans against the back of the chair, his taut clothes drawing the outline of his figure, revealing faintly discernible muscles.

He gives me a cold glance, then shifts his somewhat arrogant gaze away.

...this person is Gavin.

In this land, there’s nobody who doesn’t know him -

It’s been said that he has a magic carpet that can go up to heaven and down to Hades. It’s also been said that it’s simply a guise for his extraordinary power of wind control.

Not only that. For many years, he’s been stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, and is a thorn that can’t be pulled out from the hearts of the powerful.

Just as I’m thinking about this, the slave owner tears down my scarf, gripping my neck forcefully.

Slave owner: See this mark? She’s MC, the young girl blessed by God.

Young girl blessed by God?

Watching the desperate slave owner and Gavin in front of him, I force out a laugh.

Ten years ago, this inborn mark was bestowed meaning by a well-known wizard -

Wizard (in a flashback): Ten years later, our God will give her the most valuable riches.

Since then, I became the “treasure map” that everyone wanted, leading a life of being continuously captured and escaping.

Slave owner: Gavin, as long as you leave me alone in the future, she belongs to you.

Only the quiet sound of the burning bonfire is in the air, filled with a great sense of oppression.

Supporting his head with his right hand, he appears to turn a deaf ear to what the slave owner said.

Slave owner: Ten days later, the blessings will manifest! Riches might appear in an unending stream, and by then, you can do whatever you want!

Gavin: You travelled all the way here... to make me let you go?

A chilly wind suddenly disperses the sultriness of the surroundings. His slightly narrowed eyes are a contrast to the flames behind him, not at all masking his annoyance and derision.

The powerful aura assaults the senses, and the tips of my toes subconsciously shift backwards.

The reason why I allowed myself to be captured by the slave owner was to beat him at his own game, and get close to Gavin. But would I really be able to obtain information from such a powerful man?

A sense of unease surfaces, but I quickly suppress it.

The king said that as long as I helped him get rid of Gavin, I could obtain eternal freedom -

I have to give it a try.

Moonlight and flames intertwine and are reflected on Gavin’s face. Alarm surfaces on the slave owner’s face.

With forced hearty laughter, he tosses me aside. Respectfully, he fills Gavin’s cup to the brim with wine.

Slave owner: I’m sincerely here to do business with you.

Gavin glances at the wine glass by the side. With a curl of his lips, he picks up the glass, swaying it slowly.

He lowers his head and lifts his eyes slightly, the light in his pupils distinct.

But in the next second, he turns his wrist. The strong scent of alcohol diffuses in an instant.

Gavin: This wine is a little dirty. When you walked through this gate, you should have known what would happen.

The moment Gavin speaks, his men immediately surround the slave owner and his group. 

Slave owner: ...you! Doing this just means both sides lose!

The corners of Gavin’s lips arch upwards, and there are hints of arrogance in his eyes.

Gavin: You seem to have forgotten one fact. I won’t lose.

After the final drop of wine slides off the glass, he releases his hand, and the wine glass strikes the table.

Along with a muffled sound, Gavin brandishes a scimitar and waves it at the feudal lord.

[Note] A scimitar is a short sword with a curved blade that broadens towards the point :>

The sharp blade reflects cold light as it brushes the nape of the slave owner’s neck. Gavin keeps his eyes fixed steadily behind the slave owner.

Gavin: Remember this. I never have to get the things I want through transactions. Get out of my campground.

The feudal lord doesn’t care about anything else, tumbling and stumbling out of the gate along with the bodyguard.

Peace is restored to the campground. A row of us are unshackled one after the other.

After attaining freedom, continuous sounds of appreciation can be heard from the crowd. However, I secretly glance at Gavin, who is afar off.

When everyone else has left, I brisk walk over to him.

MC: My name is MC. Gavin, I want to join you all!

The clamour suddenly stills. Only Gavin lifts his head unaffectedly.

Gavin: Why?

MC: Once I leave this place, I’d just get captured again. Everyone says that you’re the most powerful and most incredible person in the world, so this would be the safest place...

Gavin: This place isn’t a shelter. And I have no need to guarantee your safety.

Gavin interrupts me, his gaze focused on the rag used to wipe the blood off the blade’s tip.

MC: I won’t freeload. If my blessings manifest, I can give it all to you!

Gavin shoots a sharp gaze at me, lingering on my neck briefly before shifting it away.

Gavin: The root of your “so-called” blessings is merely empty talk.

MC: But that wizard said...

Gavin: So what if he’s a wizard? I’ve never pursued such illusory things. Such blessings might simply be a joke for the greedy. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem useful to my campground. So, MC, I don’t need you.

Gavin’s words nail me in place. He looks at me directly, and I can tell from his eyes that he has absolutely no regard for the blessings, as well as my presence.

For so many years, I’ve been a treasure map in the hearts of people, and a glittering treasure.

But in his eyes, it’s as though I’m not a young girl who was blessed by God. I’m simply MC.

Even if the prophecy said that the riches would manifest ten years later, those who are greedy would think that might just be the beginning, which is why everyone has been coveting this fantastic wealth.

But nobody has ever been like Gavin, telling me that it could be false.

My heart involuntarily quivers, as though something that I’ve always firmly believed in is beginning to stir. 

I take a deep breath, brushing away the restlessness in my heart.

Whether or not I’m taking action according to plan, staying here is still the best choice.

I definitely have to stay.

MC: I’m not useless. Since young, I often get hurt while running away, so I’m very good at tending to wounds! Please give me a chance. I can prove myself!

He doesn’t speak, and simply looks at me quietly. Those amber eyes are deep with flittering light, as though he can see through me in an instant.

I clench my fists secretly, trying my best to look natural.

After an oppressive silence, he lifts his chin slightly. One of his men walks to me.

-

After I’ve finished bandaging all the injured people in the campground, I look at Gavin sincerely.

Gavin: Since you want to stay here so badly, I won’t stop you.

MC: Thank you. I just want to stay alive.

Those amber eyes narrow slightly when he hears this. Only the spluttering sounds of the burning wood remain in the air.

Gavin: In order to stay alive, you don’t care about anything else?

MC: ...yes.

All of a sudden, rapid footsteps can be heard from the gate. One of Gavin’s men leans over to him, and says something that I can’t hear.

Gavin glances at me, an unreadable smile flashing across his eyes. I stand in place, my heart feeling prickly.

Gavin: Go ahead. There aren’t any “outsiders” here.

The man nods respectfully. Straightening up, he faces the crowd.

Man: The Oasis Flower Garden that the new king ordered to be constructed has been completed ahead of schedule. The location of the coronation ceremony has been changed to the flower garden. Various neighbouring countries have also prepared countless treasures, and will be presenting them during the coronation ceremony.

After a moment of silence, a ray of sharp light flashes in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: Let’s go to the flower garden.

MC: Hang on, you’re going to steal the king’s objects?

Hearing information regarding the king, I can’t help but exclaim softly.

Gavin doesn’t seem to care about important information being disclosed, which makes me feel even more uneasy.

Is he very assured about his own plan, or is he suspicious of me, and deliberately wants to see my reaction?

Gavin: Is there a problem?

MC: ...n-no.

Gavin: Since the plan has been changed, we need to check out the flower garden beforehand. Those who know how to draw maps, step out.

His men look around at each other, none of them volunteering to step out. Looking at the silent surroundings, a risky idea formulates in my mind.

If I’m able to check out the area with them, I could find an opportune moment to tip the king off.

With this thought in mind, I take a step forward.

MC: ...I can. I’m very attuned to directions. As long as I walk through it once, I can remember everything.

In order to prove my point, I pick up a twig and draw the path I took earlier in the sand.

When I’ve finished drawing the details of the campground, the men reveal shocked expressions.

A sense of inquisitiveness even appears in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: When the time comes, I’ll send someone to the flower garden with you. But this place has never limited anyone’s freedom. You can leave whenever you want.

Gavin’s words seem indicate something. After speaking, he turns around and leaves. Meanwhile, my heart, which had been hanging in the air, is finally set down.

-

I’m officially responsible for the logistics work in the campground.

Based on my observations over the past two days, Gavin would head out with his men, then return from a rewarding journey.

He distributes the money strictly, ensuring that they are given out fairly to those who are in need and poverty-stricken.

Today, the night has just set in. As usual, Gavin returns with his troop.

He stands among the crowd calmly, but his brows furrow at certain times. Realising something, I carry the medical kit and walk towards him.

MC: Gavin, did you get hurt?

Gavin: I'm fine. Go help the others.

MC: In that case, pull open your clothes and let me have a look.

Gavin: ...

MC: Many people who need assistance are waiting for you. If you’re really injured, I could help to heal your wound much more quickly.

After giving me a deep look, he finally sits down, pulling open his clothes.

Underneath his clothes, aside from wounds oozing with blood, I can also see various scars.

MC: Some wounds wouldn’t leave scars if tended to properly.

Gavin: I don’t have the time to tend to every single wound.

He speaks casually, as though these scars are unrelated to him.

Seeing him like this, the guilt deep in my heart seems to tear me apart indistinctly.

Perhaps these mottled wounds have given hope and direction to countless people.

With no idea how to face such emotions, I simply tend to his wounds carefully.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Gavin: It isn’t hard work. Life is meant to be difficult.

His voice is calm. I can sense that his somewhat scrutinising gaze is focused on me.

But I don’t have the courage to lift my head.

-

Eventually, the people in the campground start to get used to me tending to their wounds, including Gavin.

We’re much more familiar with each other as compared to a few days ago. Occasionally, we’d even engage in conversation.

MC: ...don’t you have a magic carpet or something? Why are your injuries so serious this time?

Gavin: There was a trap.

MC: They obviously did bad things, but not only did they not feel guilty, but also schemed against you?

Gavin: My life is worth a lot of money to many people.

Gavin speaks lightly, and a disdainful smile appears on his lips.

Gavin: It doesn’t matter. They won’t succeed.

I purse my lips, subconsciously exerting less force.

MC: Please be more careful next time, and don’t add on to my workload.

Being directly glared at by me, Gavin feels a little uneasy, his eyes subconsciously averting to the side.

Gavin: ...I’ll do my best.

Over the next few days, he truly doesn’t get injured again. But because of this, I have fewer opportunities to meet him.

For some inexplicable reason, I start finding all sorts of reasons to meet Gavin -

Making sweet snacks, handing over supplies... I use everything that can create a connection between us.

Maybe it’s just a misperception, but I can always capture a subtle emotion in his eyes.

Those nice-looking eyes affect my heart involuntarily.

Until one day, when he returns and walks past me, straight towards his room. I hurriedly follow behind him, burrowing sideways through the doors that are about to close.

MC: Why did you start avoiding me once you returned? Did you get hurt!

Gavin: ...no.

Without a word, I hurriedly sweep my eyes over Gavin. When I catch sight of the traces of blood on his waist, I lift my head to glare at him.

Gavin: ...

Under my gaze, he averts his eyes a little awkwardly. 

Gavin: [totally not lying] Cough. Oh, turns out I got injured. I just realised. I’ll have to trouble you to tend to it.

Before I even open my mouth, he hurriedly stifles the words I’m about to say.

I release a sigh, reaching out to open the medical kit. I suddenly think of something.

MC: I heard that a child hit you with a stone yesterday?

Gavin: It’s just a trivial matter.

MC: That’s not what I’m referring to... you probably don’t feel good, do you. You’re obviously helping them, but you’re treated as a bad person.

Gavin: It’s very normal for me to be treated as a bad person.

MC: But you aren’t one!

After blurting this out, I lower my eyes unnaturally.

I suddenly feel warm breaths. Lifting my head, my vision is overtaken by him.

Gavin: Then what am I?

MC: I... just think that you’ve done so many good things, and shouldn’t be misunderstood.

[Note] If I were the writer, I'd make MC say: “You’re my boyfriend from another universe where you’re a sexy special agent from STF and we go through lots of angst together like the time you left me alone in the Ferris wheel during that one date.” And then I’d get fired.

A peculiar emotion flashes in his eyes. He doesn’t continue, and he stares out the window.

Gavin: Pack up your things later. You’re heading out tonight.

Realising that he’s referring to checking out the flower garden, I’m stunned for a moment.

It seems that these relaxed and comfortable days have made me forget my goal from the beginning.

-

When I return to the central area of the campground, I discover that Gavin is standing there.

MC: Didn't you say that you’d be sending someone to the flower garden with me?

Gavin: I changed my mind.

A flying carpet hovers in front of me, leaving me dumbfounded on the spot.

Gavin: Scared?

MC: I-it’s fine. It’s just that I’ve never seen a magic carpet, and I don't know...

Before I finish speaking, my feet are off the ground as Gavin takes me into his arms.

It’s as though the scorching heat of his fingertips are able to melt me. Only the sounds of the wind and my heartbeat remain in the entire world.

Gavin: There’s no need to overthink. Just be careful not to fall off.

Gavin leaps up, sitting steadily on the carpet.

With my face red, I prepare to shift away from him. The carpet soars towards the sky, and the frightening sense of weightlessness makes me involuntarily grab onto his waist.

MC: Hang on! Could you let me sit properly before flying!

What I get in response is a soft chuckle, carrying with it some mischievousness.

Gavin: If you don’t want to fall off, hold tight.

After the wind rustles at my ear for a long time, we finally descend at the destination. Without even taking a few steps, I suddenly hear the sound of disciplined footsteps in the vicinity.

At the same time when I turn to Gavin in a panic, he pulls me behind a stone pillar nearby.

The stone pillar isn’t large, and we’re forced to stick together.

Because we’re pressed so closely together, his breath is akin to a gentle feather, brushing my face.

The itch causes me to tremble involuntarily. Gavin hurriedly reaches out to wrap me in his arms.

Gavin: Don’t move.

A soft command drifts to my ear, and I can only nod stiffly.

When the nearby footsteps disappear, I release a breath and prepare to leave. However, he turns around, pressing me against the stone pillar.

Gavin: Are you deliberately trying to get discovered?

MC: Of course... not! It’s because what you did was very ticklish!

I retort softly. In order to prove my point, I stick close to him, vigorously inhaling and exhaling through my nose.

MC: You find it ticklish too, don’t you!

In an instant, our breaths seem to intertwine, and an inexplicable heat secretly climbs up the back of my ears.

Gavin averts his eyes unnaturally, and he releases the hands propped on the wall.

Gavin: Let’s go. There isn’t much time left.

Beneath the clear and tender moonlight, the gentle night breeze and his reddened ears are especially obvious.

Fortunately, the second half goes smoothly. We walk around the flower garden meticulously before returning to the campground. 

The moment my feet stand steadily on the ground, I use the excuse of drawing the map to run swiftly back into my room.

Staring at the blank sheet of paper, the pen in my hand doesn’t descend for a very long time.

...am I really going to continue with this?

[Note] Imagine if Gavin actually just wanted to go on a date with MC but didn’t know how to broach the topic because he’s Awkward™ so he decided to take her on a romantic stroll by “chEcKinG out tHE FlOwEr GarDEn”

-

Ever since returning from the flower garden, I especially cherish the few days I have left of this peaceful life.

While chatting with the men, I unintentionally learnt that all of them used to be bodyguards in the palace. And Gavin was their leader.

As for why they became bandits... looking at their solemn expressions, I didn’t continue probing.

I decide to focus all my energy on the map, treating it as a small “atonement”.

But my progress is even slower than imagined, and I only manage to complete it the day before the operation.

Stepping outside with the map, I see a familiar figure on the roof.

Struck with an idea, I shift a ladder over and prepare to climb up. However, because it isn’t tall enough, I end up pausing awkwardly mid-air.

MC: ...

Just when I’m wondering if I should call out to Gavin, the flying carpet suddenly appears near my feet.

After a moment of hesitation, I climb onto it in a sorry state. Gavin’s figure gradually appears in my vision.

Illuminated by the moonlight, he props himself up indolently, indistinct arches appearing at the corners of his lips.

MC: The map has been drawn.

Gavin: You’ve worked hard.

Just as I’m about to turn around to leave, the sky filled with stars enters my eyes. The stars sparkle in succession.

MC: ...could I stay here for a little longer?

Gavin: Here, nobody can meddle with you. You're free to do whatever you want.

Free... Hearing this term subconsciously makes me feel startled. In my peripheral vision, a shooting star soars past the sky.

MC: Ah, a star is falling!

I’m pleasantly surprised by the sight I’ve never seen before, but realise that Gavin’s brows are tightly knit.

MC: You don’t seem to want to see this sight?

He looks at me, his shining golden eyes turning a little dim.

MC: ...it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. After all, everyone has secrets they aren’t willing to share.

Gavin: Secrets?

MC: Mm. That’s why life is so tough. It’s because secrets are difficult to talk about, yet they refuse to release their grip.

Gavin: I don’t have any secrets.

Gavin says this bluntly, looking at me.

Gavin: That shooting star earlier has a lot of meaning behind it.

The lights and shadows in Gavin’s eyes stir, leaving me unable to identify the emotions within them.

After a moment of silence, his voice drifts to my ear again.

Gavin: An elder once told me that no matter what one does, the stars are able to see it. But if a shooting star were to appear in the sky, it meant that it faded away because it saw too much evil.

Even though his tone doesn’t change much, I can vaguely sense something.

Gavin: Which is why I changed from leader of the bodyguards to a bandit.

I’m stunned for a moment. Gavin turns his head, looking at me.

Gavin: What? You thought I’d hide it?

MC: I...

Gavin: This isn’t a secret. The people here have never avoided the past.

MC: Why?

Gavin: There isn't a special reason. I once thought that as a leader, I’d have more power to uphold justice. Afterwards, a choice to sacrifice a few hundred lives to save a nobleman appeared before me.

MC: Which side did you pick?

Gavin: No matter the side, I wanted to save them all.

He stares afar off, a scorching colour flashing in his eyes. The wind seems to respond to him, causing leaves to rustle.

Gavin: I won't let a single life vanish in front of me. But many people threatened me using my capacity as a leader. Which is why I no longer wanted that title. I just want to be Gavin, and do the things I genuinely want to do.

In the night breeze, the corners of his lips turn upwards. Pride and resoluteness are transparent in his eyes.

My heart quivers. Fragments of the past few days involuntarily surface before my eyes -

How he returned triumphantly with loot, along with wounds of varying sizes.

How he often places somewhat simple and crude “thank you gifts” in front of the gate of the campground.

At first, I thought these rumours of Gavin were just false compliments. But after seeing them for myself, I am fully convinced -

Gavin is worthy of all the praise.

Thinking about this, my heart seems to be tugged roughly by something.

MC: If only I had met you earlier. That way, I wouldn’t just be the young girl who was blessed by God, and...

I suddenly pause, my honest thoughts stuck in my throat.

Gavin: Wouldn’t what?

Those amber eyes watch me quietly, as though waiting for what’s weighing on my mind to pour out in torrents.

MC: You’ll be heading out tomorrow, so rest early. If possible, I hope the stars can see everything I do, and that they wouldn't fall.

I control the stinging sensation in my eyes, showing my sincerest smile.

He seems to be stirred. The brilliant starlight reflects in his eyes, and my figure seems to become clearer.

But my vision gradually turns blurry, as though something is about to fall.

-

A faint light appears from afar. Holding the letter that I spent a night writing, I walk to Gavin’s door.

MC: Sorry. I think some words can’t be said in person. If there’s another chance, perhaps we could... get to know each other afresh.

Watching as the letter disappears at the other end, I feel a weight being lifted off me as I walk out of the gate.

-

Tonight is the king’s coronation ceremony.

There aren’t any celebratory gifts from the neighbouring countries. There aren’t any flatteries from imperial concubines or ministers. There are only soldiers hiding in the flowering shrubs...

And me, who is pressed onto the floor.

King: Did you think that I didn’t plant other spies aside from you?

The king eats grapes indolently, strong distaste flashing in his eyes.

MC: ...

King: As my slave for so many years, you should know the consequences of betrayal.

I couldn’t care less about the king’s threats. All that’s in my heart is worry.

Worry that Gavin didn’t see my letter. Worry that he’d follow the plan and come to the flower garden, and into the king’s ambush.

Just a while ago, I admitted everything in the letter -

According to my understanding of the king, he would definitely deploy forces in the flower garden to guarantee his safety during the ceremony.

It also explains why the palace is akin to an empty city, and can be easily infiltrated.

A sizeable amount of wealth fleeced from the common folk is in the treasury. If they could be returned to their original owners, it should lighten much of their burden.

This is the only thing I can do as compensation.

With this thought in mind, I look up at the brilliant sky-filled sky. My mind doesn’t hold back, and specks of time spent together with Gavin courses through it.

I take a deep breath, doing my best to remember this starry sky forever, leaving behind no regrets.

All of a sudden, a cold wind rolls up beside me. At the edge of my vision, a figure appears along with the wind.

The faraway figure gradually becomes clearer. Gavin is standing on the flying carpet, his expression so gloomy that it’s terrifying.

MC: Gavin, what are you doing here?! Leave quickly, there’s an ambush here!

Right after I finish speaking, arrows fly towards Gavin in succession, but they’re all rolled together by the gale in an instant.

Gavin looks down, his eyes filled with a fury which has reached its limits.

Gavin: Did you think about the consequences of touching one of my people?

King: Men, take him down!

Realising that arrows are ineffective, the bodyguards brandish long swords, closing in on me.

A gentle wind protects me. At the same time, a familiar voice drifts from behind.

Gavin: Hold tight.

He kicks away the person who was restraining me, then carries me on his shoulder.

I subconsciously struggle, but realise that I’m gripped tightly by him, as though he’s telling me -

That he’s angry.

Twisting my head to peer at his expression, I can only see the distinct outline of the side of his face from my periphery.

After the flying carpet leaves the ground, a fierce wind suddenly springs out of the flower garden.

In an instant, the magnificent flower garden turns into a mess. The king dangles upside down from a sculpture, and looks to be in a huge predicament.

With a cold “hmph”, Gavin soars faraway, the flower garden behind him turning smaller and smaller.

MC: Gavin, could you put me down... I’m already safe.

He ignores me, and the rustling wind is the only thing left in the surroundings.

MC: Sorry... I lied to you.

Gavin: I already knew from the start.

He continues staring out, responding coldly.

MC: In that case, why did you still come here?! I already told you in the letter not to...

Gavin: Because I want to bring you back.

MC: Why...?

Gavin: Since you joined us, you can’t leave that easily.

I release a resigned sigh, muttering softly.

MC: You clearly said that I could leave whenever I wanted to.

Gavin: You believe a bandit’s promise?

MC: You...!

Not knowing what to say, a soft chuckle drifts from behind me.

He exerts slight pressure, as though verifying something. Then, he sets me down, drawing me into his arms. 

MC: I even thought you’d keep carrying me on your shoulder and not let go.

Gavin: I actually wouldn’t mind. But I still prefer this.

While saying this, he tightens both arms around my waist.

A sense of security instantly charges into my heart, but it also accidentally tears open the guilt that I've buried in the depths of my heart...

MC: Gavin, you had your suspicions about me from very early on, didn’t you.

Gavin: I had my suspicions at the start. But afterwards, I realised it was unnecessary. Because I knew that you wouldn’t harm me.

His gaze is brilliant as he looks at me, mixed with an unquestionable emotion.

MC: [blushing] Why do you keep looking at me like that?

Gavin: I can’t do that?

MC: [blushing] Of course you can’t. You can’t get used to being a bandit and do whatever you want...

I retort indignantly, my face red as I avert my eyes.

Suddenly, a scorching hand covers my face, turning my face back forcefully.

Gavin: You’re right. I’m used to being a bandit and doing whatever I want to. So, MC, let me take a good look at you.

He carefully sweeps his eyes over me. As I gradually come to my senses, I realise that he’s checking to see if I’m injured.

MC: Gavin, I’m not hurt.

Seeing the concern in his eyes, my heart feels a stinging sensation. No one has ever cared about me like this before.

Even though he knew that I didn’t have good intentions from the beginning, he didn’t blame me at all.

-

The familiar campground once again enters my vision. From afar, I see that everyone’s tidying up boxes filled with treasures.

MC: Did they go to the palace?

Gavin: Mm. I had to bring you back, so I let them go there by themselves. After sorting out the inventory, they will return the items to their original owners.

MC: In that case... could we head to the roof for a while? Today’s also the day my blessings are manifested. Whether it’s real or not, it’d be revealed very soon.

In a moment, we land on the roof. My heart uncontrollably turns anxious.

Gavin: The most valuable riches in the world?

Gavin stands beside me quietly, stretching out his hand.

The full moon hangs overhead, and the night breeze blows gently.

In an instant, the pearls and jewels in the boxes on the ground suddenly fill the night sky, glistening underneath the moonlight.

Countless silver coins and jewels soak in the moonlight, setting a contrast to the flickering stars, as though they are newborn stars.

Gavin: Are these your blessings?

Gavin turns around to face me. All the light in the world seem to be stored in those amber eyes.

Gavin: If you’re wondering about the meaning behind these blessings, let me shoulder it with you. Your fate will not be directed by anyone. MC, you can just be MC. I don’t care if you’ve been blessed by God. What I want is you.

The starry sky casts a faint halo over Gavin, becoming the most dazzling colour in my eyes.

My world seems to be shining into a ray of light, and the interlaced paths of what lies ahead in the future turn clear and bright.

All of a sudden, I realise something with certainty -

This is just the beginning. He will bring me along to be acquainted anew with this beautiful world.

A gentle gust breezes past, and the lower hem of Gavin’s clothes flutters.

His lips move slightly, and his voice burrows into my ears along with the wind.

Gavin: All of the blessings for you - I’ll fulfil them myself.

-

🍷 MOMENTS 🍷

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving in the open country.

MC: Because most of this trip will be in the open country, we have to do our homework in advance!

Gavin: When it comes to safety, there’s nothing to worry about with me around.

-

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving outdoors.

MC: Are you surprised? The first phase of the trip is starting!

Gavin: Great. In that case, leave the rest of the arrangements to me.

-

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving outdoors.

MC: I felt that you’ve been working really hard lately, so I wanted to take you to a faraway place to relax~

Gavin: Actually, it’s enough that you’re around.

🍷 Phone calls: First l Second

🍷 More translated dates: here

🍷 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[maskyartist]

I thought of the characters for my Psychonauts/Persona 5 AU. The characters are Augustus (Fool), Oleander (Magician), Truman (Chariot), Hollis (Lovers), Sasha (Emperor), Donatella (Priestess), Gloria (Hermit), Milla (Empress), and Gristol (Justice).

oh bestie u shouldnt have brought this to me im about to judge the hell out of ur choices cause these? mmmm dont sit right with me, chief :D

first of all, Hollis and Dona need to be switched. Hollis fills Makoto's role MUCH more accurately as she's already very strict in her work space, as well as being very sold on her own idea of persuing justice n such. She's a rough n tough woman and fills Makoto's role better-

-as does Dona filling Ann's role. She works perfectly for the "exchange student whos so pretty everyone hates her" energy Ann has, along with her playing along with Kamoshida's advances for someone else's sake. we can decide a Shiho later >3>

second, Gloria feels like a very out of place addition given that everyone else here is very prominant in Psychonauts 2 rather then Psychonauts 1 (excluding Sasha, Milla, and Oleander), and Gloria just doesnt mesh well with the rest of this cast. if we ARE choosing from the asylum cast, i'd suggest Fred for Hermit, since he'd fit better with Futaba's struggle of seeing hallucinations brought about by her trauma and overcoming the struggles of having an oppressive parental figure become your new mental image for all the bad shit you say about yourself from guilt

i can see Fred awakening to his Persona and finding a cognitive Napoleon in a war game-esc Palace, totally

Truman as the Chariot is...SO out of left field. If anything, Truman and Oleander should get swapped here. Truman is not shown as outwardly loyal and reckless to get what he thinks is right, nor is he shown being firm on his own sense of justice.

but Oleander definitely is. that's literally his entire character arc :D

the rest of the roles i can see fitting, tho. Sasha and Milla work perfectly for their roles I think (tho i would say Milla as the Lovers and Dona as the Empress especially since we as a collective fandom can agree Dona was DEFINITELY from a rich family before marrying Augustus), and Gristol as Akechi is ungodly funny i REFUSE to change that- (plus honestly it works with my own hc of Augustus n Gristol being friends before the deluge happened)

but yeah, this isnt me trying to judge your work or shove my own ideas into ur stuff, however i am ungodly invested in Persona 5 like this has been my special interest since it came OUT and hasnt stopped sense, so i know...a lot about this cast. And a LOT about their personalities, stories, and internal struggles from my many times of replaying this game.

and then u bring in Psychonauts which is ALSO an interest of mine that i've sunk a lot of time into reading and looking over characters n their interactions n like i have a whole BACKSTORY for Augustus written out, along with an idea that could theoretically be a whole third game-

so basically i can confidently say i was NOT the person to come to for this if u wanted gentle advice cause a lot of these choices just feel kinda paper thin and picked out for no real reason, just because they semi-resemble the character in question or fill that character's role and not because of who they are as characters n such

like i cant see Milla and Truman bickering like Ann and Ryuji do, but i can see Dona and Oleander doing that MUCH more realistically since Dona's a hothead and Oleander just speaks outta his ass all the time

...yeah not too sure how to end this, but those are my opinions on ur picks :D the idea's got somethin but the execution is lacking in my opinion, so this is how i'd do it myself but yknow its ur au! u dont need my permission to do jack, have ur fun n explore the characters however u want :D