#tw slavery

[thedissonantverses]

Thank you for your post about Neve and I'm sorry you're getting hate for it <3

I don't want to detract from Neve so thought I'd ask separately rather than on that post, but I was wondering about your thoughts on Dorian? I see a lot of parallels between him and Neve based on your post, in terms of colour scheme and imagery, being of Indian in appearance and Dorian is voiced by a va of Asian descent. Though in very different positions in society they both share ideals and work for and with the same abolitionist organisation.

In Neve's case, if we do nothing of her side quests, her position goes to a white person, Aela. For Dorian, by default he becomes Archon, yet we as the player can actively give that position of the power to actually change things on a macro level, to a white person, Mae (which feels a little white savioury to me).

I guess I'm curious if you have any thoughts around whether there are any racial connotations to deliberately make a choice to give the power to bring about abolition to a white person, or is that a reach, because Mae just so happens to be white? And if you have any thoughts on how Dorian is presented?

Please ignore if this is too deep or irrelevant of a question! Thanks again for putting in the emotional labour to educate.

Oooooo this is a great question!!! I do want to reiterate I am not an expert on anything I am just a white-passing queer American with hard opinions on the internet so please do with that what you will. I do think this is a better conversation to be had with South Asian and really all other BIPOC fans but again, the fandom is overtly hostile to such folks but I will do my best to approach this from a conscientious angle. I also approach from being like really queer and encourage other queers to do the same. However, I do understand if people don’t want to open themselves up to hate and dear sweet lord they will if this fandom has shown me anything but I do encourage other people to jump in here if they feel comfortable doing so. This should be a discussion.

This did wind up not being so much Dorian focused but a broader look at the history of slavery and civil rights as well as why the writers picked the Shadow Dragons they did. I would love to see a separate Dorian meta but I don't know that I'm the best person to do so with my current knowledge base.

TL;DR Slavery in the real world and race-based and modern slavery in particular, queer history, intersectionality, and why VG doesn’t hold your hand on morality in a way I find fascinating but a lot of people missed:

First of all I don't think it's a reach to bring whiteness into the conversation BUT…this gets complicated. Handling slavery in fantasy settings is weird and it’s weird in Dragon Age in particular because it’s so elf and dwarf heavy. I'm going to focus on elves for the moment but Jewish coding with dwarves in fantasy goes back a long way. The coding of the elves has been pretty bad to weird from the start and borrows heavily from Romani, Jewish, Native Americans and First Nation's peoples. Here's an excellent meta on the subject. Another point in Veilguard's favor for me personally is moving away from it and doing landback for the Dalish for these reasons but that's a whole other meta.

Slavery has existed for a long long time in our species but prior to colonialism it tended to be based on factors of religion, country, debt, being a prisoner of war etc etc. Slaves also had legal protections in a lot of empires and were still considered to be human beings.

However, that changed dramatically with colonialism. Race-based slavery wasn’t really a thing until colonialism and more specifically my country invented a lot of pseudoscience and bullshit to keep it that way. It's the foundation of the eugenics movement, it's a reason Black Americans still can't get adequate healthcare, and it's knowing about it is foundational to understanding modern day America. I uh hate Thomas Jefferson in particular on this subject personally and the effects of this can still be felt today. You can’t 1:1 elves into the real world if you’ve seen how many white elves people make you can kinda see the problem here.

Current modern day slavery looks very different than what your average westerner gets taught in high school. Essentially keep being anti-capitalist and anti-imperialism and fight climate change and support free immigration policies and landback and debt forgiveness and social safety nets. Protect the unhoused and vote with your wallet where you can. There is a ton of actionable steps to take in this regard and I encourage people to educate themselves. I do have a personal stake in this side of the conversation as well which is why I keep getting so up in arms about it.

Okay so onto Dorian. Dorian’s views on slavery in Inquisition drove me bonkers especially considering I was romancing him with an elf. But I have to say I really love that Veilguard portrays him as someone willing to stand against the majority and hyper-nationalists in order to end slavery. He is also gay. That cannot be left out here and it’ll be important when we get to Maevaris. Because it is very key to understanding Dorian that his father tried to forcibly convert him to being straight with blood magic. I have a lot of feelings about conversion therapy and this was stomach churning. This set him at odds with his country from the jump and as a queer woman that means a lot to me. I do think the game is being deliberate by having Dorian in this position and it took him from one of my favorite characters in Inquisition to one of my favorite characters in Dragon Age.

Maevaris is also one of my favorite characters in Dragon Age and has been for years because she risked her life to be a trans woman and stand up for abolition and I have to be proud of her for that. The game is making a deliberate choice to have one of two openly queer people as the choice for archon and again, that means the world to me. It made me really happy and it's one of the things I love about this game. I do think Maeve's whiteness is incidental here as a result, not to say you can't critique it because of course you can, but I think what the writers were going for was a deliberate commentary on intersectionality which is also why Tarquin is here, and to reiterate for emphasis Neve is queer and disabled. It's also why the Shadow Dragons are Taash's source for information on being non-binary. Here is a great meta on Maevaris and gender theory in Veilguard.

As an American analyzing the subject I want to bring up the Stonewall Uprising as it was the catalyst for a lot of our ability to carve out civil rights for ourselves in this country. Which means it is my privilege and honor to talk about Marsha P. Johnson, a black trans woman who started the uprising. Fighting back against white supremacy means fighting back with everyone. Marginalized people need each other and I think it is a very deliberate commentary on the part of the writers. We tend to understand the necessity of building community to fight our oppressors. This is a time period that went hand in hand with getting us out of the Jim Crow Era. These are all very important lessons today as we are facing a lot of the same issues right now.

As for Aelia's whiteness I can't say for sure it was intentional but I do think it says a lot about the player that lets this happen, and it's not something VG is going to create a flashy cut scene for to tell you off. You should have enough of a moral compass to be uncomfortable with this as an outcome. Because in order to have a white supremacist lady as archon you have to completely fail one of your companions in a spectacular way on top of failing the abolitionist faction. You should feel awful and if you don't the game can't help you. (Not that it should be anyways)

It's very related actually to the Minrathous vs Treviso choice in regards to romance. I know there has been a lot of friction about being able to romance Neve if you don't save Minrathous and I'm here to say I think this is intentional on the part of the writers. If you romance Neve as her boss in a position of power after destroying her faction and her home, you should feel terrible. It also is well within her character to accept that that's just how people are and that breaks my heart. That's what I love about so much of Veilguard is the game isn't going to tell you how to feel about these choices, it just presents them.

I have heard people say VG is trying to paint Dorian as the "bad" choice for archon because he's willing to use dirtier tactics, but I think what it's really trying to say is change and revolution takes top-down systemic change as well as people in positions of power to force that change and your vigilante types that can fight from the shadows. You need everybody. Slaves will always rebel because slavery is unnatural, dehumanizing, and evil. But it takes a whole society working together to tear down these institutionalized power structures which is why Ashur is also here. He is one of these people and recognized he could not change Tevinter alone with how toothless the Northern Chantry is. Slavery is cyclical and unless you cut the head off the snake no amount of vigilantism and rebellion will end it permanently. It will always take all of us constantly working together.

As a result, Veilguard isn't going to tell you how to interpret these things and it shouldn't have to. If you're searching for moral complexity in Dragon Age here it is and personally, I got a lot out of this game as a result.

Thanks for the great ask anon! It gave me a lot to chew on and I hope I answered your question well!

Here are some books I think are good related reading if anyone is curious:

Stonewall by Martin Duberman

Voices from Slavery edited by Norman R. Yetman but you can also find them attached here and there's a couple of related documentaries here.

The Devil's Highway by Luis Alberta Urrea.

The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander

Hidden in Plain Sight by Stephanie Hepburn and Rita J. Simpson.

[defire]

Different types of conditioning for different whumpees is really interesting because it changes their fear responses! Like

A slave whumpee that was conditioned to keep their hands in front of them or else they'd get whacked in the arm with a cane. Their reaction to realizing they're not doing it is to flinch and grab their arm.

A living weapon whumpee that was trained to stand stiff and tall, or they'd be slapped in the face. Now when they catch themselves slouching, they squint and stiffen, clenching their jaw so they don't accidentally bite their tongue when they're slapped.

A prisoner whumpee freezing up and going still when a door clangs. if they blended in, an angry guard might pick a more defiant prisoner to make an example of.

A pet whumpee that was conditioned to pretend to be happy and cute, and was kicked across the floor when they didn't. When they're caught being upset, they skitter to the other end of the room and protect their ribs and face.

The right-hand-slave of the king or cult leader that had to look amazing and represent the kingdom or they'd be whipped that night. If they do something awkward, they go cold and swallow, fearing punishment later.

[cintiri]

Thinking about my big brother ghost Yuan au again, specifically the relationship between Shen Yuan and Yue Qi, because you know there's no way Shen Jiu doesn't tell his Qi-Ge about his tag along.

At first, Yue Qi was probably somehow MORE suspicious of Shen Yuan than Shen Jiu was, because who's this freeloader in his Xiao Jiu's head!!! What does he want with poor Xiao Jiu? You can't have him, evil ghost!!!

Eventually, he and Shen Jiu get used to Shen Yuan though, and Yue Qi starts to actually really appreciate Shen Yuan's presence. There have been multiple times where Shen Yuan has convinced Shen Jiu to seek out Yue Qi for help with things he otherwise would have hidden, and clearly SY is keeping SJ safe with his interference, as SJ has been getting caught less, getting hurt less, and getting into less fights than usual.

What really ends up solidifying the bond between Yue Qi and Shen Yuan, though, is when their Si-Jie was sold. Wu-ge had died the winter before, and Liu-Jie had run away, so after Si-Jie, Yue Qi was the oldest, and therefore it was his job to protect the younger slaves like Wu-Jie had. Xiao Jiu was inconsolable, having retreated into his mind and leaving Shen Yuan most of the control, and Yue Qi didn't have time to mourn or anyone to hide behind.

He was only ten years old.

Yue Qi was limping back to the building and surrounding alleyways the slave masters had claimed as their own, carrying the Bao he had run on his twisted ankle to get for the other slave children. They needed to eat in order to stay healthy, to stay healthy in order to survive.

It was getting dark, but if he hurried now he would be able to slip out and go beg in the red light district. He knew some ladies who had taken a liking to Xiao Jiu and himself, they wouldn't chase him away, and then he could make up the money from Shiba missing today because of her sickness, and from Shiwu who was too busy mourning Si-Jie, and-

"Xiao Qi?" It was the familiar too-soft version of his Xiao Jiu's voice. Shen Yuan, then. He paused, turning towards him. "Yes?"

"You've been gone since before morning, Xiao Qi. And what happened to your leg?"

"it's alright, Shen-Xiangsheng. I've just been getting food for the others, and I'm going to go to the red light district-" he heard Shen Yuan tisk, before stepping forwards and putting a hand on Yue Qi's shoulder.

"Not on that leg you aren't. Come sit down, I'll bring the Bao to the others and help you with that leg."

Yue Qi felt his face scrunch up, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the man in the body of his closest friend. "If I don't, then Shiba and Shiwu are going to get beaten! And maybe even you too! And then Shiba won't recover from her sickness!" Yue Qi shouted, balling up his fists.

"Is that what you really want? To ruin the lives of some slave children while acting nice? Cause if that's true, you're a really pathetic ghost!"

Yue Qi froze. He just yelled at an adult. Sure, maybe that adult was in Xiao Jiu's body, and so he was little, but Xiao Jiu could be really strong when he wanted to, and Xiao Jiu had been so sad when Si-Jie went away, would he even notice that his tag along was beating up his Qi-Ge? Or maybe even if he did he wouldn't intervene, because Yue Qi was an awful little brat who raised his voice and barked like a dog at someone who was better than him, and-

And Shen Yuan's face didn't twist in anger like the slavers or the men in the markets might have. Instead, his face was filled with pity. No, not pity. Sympathy.

Maybe Shen Yuan was an adult, but he was also a ghost. A ghost that was stuck in the body of a little street kid like Yue Qi. So maybe he wouldn't beat him. Maybe Shen Yuan would just be sad for him, because he knew how bad it was out here, and maybe he wouldn't make it worse. Maybe he would just leave Yue Qi alone.

So caught up in his thoughts, Yue Qi didn't notice Shen Yuan had moved until he felt the warm arms around him. He froze.

Shen Yuan's hugs didn't feel like Si-Jie's. They weren't as warm and gentle, his hand didn't run over Yue Qi's back gently with shushing sounds coming from his mouth. They didn't feel like Xiao Jiu's either. Xiao Jiu was all sharp knees and elbows, chipped nails digging into his skin as if at any second Yue Qi would disappear if he didn't hold on.

Shen Yuan's hug was tight, and though he was shorter, he used a hand on the back of Yue Qi's head to tuck his face into his shoulder. The other hand rubbed gentle circles on his back, slowly pulling Yue Qi's mind back into his body.

Distantly, he heard Shen Yuan speaking. "That's right, breathe in, and out. You're doing so well, Xiao Qi. It's okay, I have you, you'll be alright."

His hands tightened into little fists in Shen Yuan's clothes and he felt himself lean against him, letting out a sudden sob he hadn't even realized had been caught in his chest. Before he knew it, he was sitting down, laying on Shen Yuan's chest and sobbing into his shoulder, holding on for dear life and shaking like a leaf in the wind. Shen Yuan was speaking, and it sounded soothing, but Yue Qi couldn't tell what he was saying through his sobs.

"Yuan-ge-" he whimpered, his voice cracking as he tried to burrow further into Shen Yuan.

"Shh, It's okay, it's okay, your Yuan-ge is here."

Yue Qi cried for a long time, until the sun had set and he had fully exhausted himself. Yuan-ge pulled him onto his back, somehow managing to carry him despite his small stature, and carried him into the alleyway where he and Xiao Jiu slept. He placed Yue Qi down, before pulling out the bricks that they hid their straw mat behind, pulling it out and laying it on the ground.

He watched as Yuan-ge placed one of the bricks at the end of the mat, before pulling Yue Qi onto it and pushing his sprained ankle up, placing the foot onto the brick.

"Keep your foot elevated, like this, okay? I'm going to go to the red light district. I'll get the money that Shiba and Shiwu need. You just rest, alright? He said. Yue Qi opened his mouth to protest, and suddenly found a warm Bao bun pushed into his mouth. At the taste, he couldn't help but grab it and begin to chew, but as he ate, he looked up and complained, "These were supposed to be for the others!"

Yuan-Ge sighed. "You're a growing boy, eat it. I'll get another Bao to make up for this one, okay?" Yue Qi could only glumly nod, and continue eating his bun.

Soon after Shen Yuan left, he felt himself slip into sleep, exhausted.

-

"Qi-ge, Qi-ge wake up!" He heard a familiar voice whisper shout in his ear. "Xiao Jiu?" He murmured, still hazy with sleep.

"Yuan got us some stuff, but he told me I should be the one out here to give it to you. Here." He blinked, as half a stick of tanghulu was shoved in his face. Squinting in the dark, he could make out a few bits of crystalized sugar stuck to Xiao Jiu's cheeks.

"Hmmmkay." He murmured, taking the stick and going to have a bite, when he felt a sudden rush of cold on his ankle. He yelped in surprise, but strangely, his ankle felt much better. Looking down, he saw Xiao Jiu using cloth scraps with a strange blueish paste on them to bind his ankle.

"Wha-"

"Yuan says it's called the winter's night lily of ice pack. Or something"

"Everwinters night lily! It's just basically an ice pack." Chimed Shen Yuan, making little sense as usual, before he faded away once more."

"Okay, that. The colds sposed' to help with your leg. Somehow. And also keep it elevated or something."

"It does feel better than it did before." Yue Qi agrees.

"Good. Keep it that way. Oh, also Yuan made a deal with some courtesans. Made a whole bunch of posters for some brothel called the Autumns Iris. They gave us some coins, so he said not to worry. Oh, and he got the Bao."

Yue Qi let out a long breath, as Xiao Jiu climbed onto the mat, flopping halfway on top of Yue Qi and accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. "I'm going to sleep now." He said, before curling up like a hissy cat.

Yue Qi stayed awake for a while longer. Yuan-ge did it. He did exactly what Yue Qi needed, maybe even better than Yue Qi could have. He didn't get mad when Yue Qi yelled at him. He helped him fix his ankle, even though it really wasn't that bad.

He cared. He wanted to protect him. And he was older, and smarter, and stronger than any of the other slaves had ever been.

Maybe, even though Si-Jie was gone, with Yuan-ge here, he and Xiao Jiu would be okay.

[66kenobi66]

It scares me that one of the only "healthy" relationships in the Hellaverse is between a character who is a part of a race of people who are so degraded they can be bought and sold...and the person who sells his kind...

Not to mention Vortex is one of the only officially Black characters...and he's dating a human trafficker...who is white...

How do you fuck up that bad

[filmgifs]

Universal truths are constant. It is a fact, a plain and simple fact, that what is true and right is true and right for all — white and Black alike.

12 Years a Slave — 2013 dir. Steve McQueen based on the memoir by Solomon Northup

[serpenlupus]

About Wyll and his horns (and what they mean)

Let's say I was writing a part of my Tav's story with Wyll directly connected to the dialogue he has during the tiefling party, and while struggling with this bit, I've realized there's quite a few misconceptions floating around. I felt compelled to add information to the table that might clear them, so here we go.

First, what exactly happens to Wyll when he disobeys Mizora in act one? Well, he doesn't get turned into a devil, he certainly doesn't get turned into a tiefling, he's not a half fiend, not a demon, none of that. Wyll stays human, but he has horns and red eyes (and other features we can't see on his model as of now).

(Everyone has their race listed, Wyll's remains "Human")

This is because when a warlock fails to uphold some part of their contract they can suffer a certain number of consequences, Wylls is “The character grows horns, a tail, or some other devilish features that can't be removed by any means short of divine intervention. As long as these marks persist the character detects as a fiend when subjected to Detect Evil and Good spells or similar magic.” ( from Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus, page 214)

And I’ve come across some people that think it wasn’t so bad of a punishment, that he was being racist towards the tieflings, or just not being justified in being upset after having his body forcibly changed against his will. I think they are missunderstanding just how insidious Mizora’s actions were, and here I just want to give some context to maybe bring a better understanding to the situation. Your conclusions are up to you.

Gonna start by using a not exact analogy, but I think it’s going to make the explanation easier. Stick with me for a minute.

Remember Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean? He had a branded “P” on his arm that marked him as a pirate. A murderer, robber, criminal, etc. in the eyes of the society he was a part of. What did Jack do to earn the branding? (if you don’t know this I suggest you look up the “people aren’t cargo mate” scene) He refused to transport slaves and later freed them, and Beckett had him marked as punishment.

Then, in the first movie, he saves Elizabeth, a woman he didn’t know, from drowning. Right after however, when Norrington sees he has a branded “P”, he’s like “alright, off to jail with you, and then hanging”, no other option crosses his mind. Again, Jack doesn’t know Elizabeth, isn’t indicated to think he is going to be rewarded for helping her, he just sees a drowning person, sees that no one else is going to help, and chooses to save them. That is a pretty selfless/good aligned thing to do, for no other reason that he was the one able to do it, yet the branding in his arm overrides any good action he could ever do, marking him as a criminal for execution and no further thought.

In a way, that’s what Mizora did to Wyll; she forever visibly branded him as someone that has made deals with devils, and that in the world of DnD is a VERY BAD THING. Personally I really like the mod that gives him more devilish features, but at the same time I think there was something clever about choosing to leave him looking more human. He can’t be confused with a tiefling, he doesn’t have the ears, the claws, the tail, all those features that characterize them. He looks kind of uncanny, and that would be like a red flag for anyone in that world. (Beyond the already existing hate for tieflings that I’m not gonna tackle on here because it’s a complicated thing that deserves its own post). And Wyll wants to do good, he wants to help people, to be a positive force in the world so, so badly. This dude got abducted by a nautiloid, got tadpole’d, and the first thing he did right after that was come across the Tiefling refugees and be like “Oh you need help? No worries let me teach you self defense. Oh you being attacked by goblins? Let me blast them real quick”. His way of saying fuck you to all the awful things that have happened to him is being aggressively good and kind. Mizora knows this very well, wants to see him suffer for her amusement, wants to remind him he can't escape her claws, so her choice of punishment was to forever taint his future interactions with mistrust and suspicion. Some people can go real fast from “oh thank God they saved me” to “oh no, are they gonna rob me, are they trying to trick me, are they in cahoots with the ones that attacked me first?” just because of outward appearances. Especially in DnD world. And that deserves its own conversation, but we're focusing on Wyll here.

(Mizora, when I catch you Mizora)

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have made a deal in the first plac- - “ He was seventeen, alone, preyed upon by Mizora and put in an impossible situation. Please PAY ATTENTION to the story you’re witnesing.

Anyway.

About the tieflings. I know it’s easy to think his words can be derisive towards them, but it’s less about the horns and more about his body being changed against his will. Imagine instead that he got half his face burned, or something that disfigured him. I think his feelings at the moment were closer to that, and yeah they are pretty insensitive words to say to someone with a similar condition (horns or disfiguration), but when feelings are fresh and raw like that it’s easy to say insensitive things. Not saying it was ok for him to say them, but there was no malice in his words. I’ve also seen some people share that they think Mizora wanted to change him more to make him unrecognizable to his original self, the Wyll Ravenguard kid, and I think there is some truth to that too. She wants to make sure that Wyll remembers that he belongs to her, there's no question to that.

(MIZORA, WHEN I CATCH YOU MIZORA)

Whether the Tieflings refugees would feel unsettled by Wyll or not? Yes. In a way, they would. From reasons aside from the ones I explained above, remember that these specific tieflings come from Elturel. If you didn’t pass the History check or don’t remember, Elturel is a city that was literally ripped from the land and dragged to Avernus, First layer of hell (it left a hole on the ground and everything) because their mayor made a deal with the Archdevil Zariel some decades back in the timeline. He sold the souls of all its citizens and the city itself.

This was probably one of the worst times of their lives. Some even got captured and forced to participate in the blood War, like Dammon as a mechanic. And after Elturel got returned to the surface, the tieflings lost their homes because they reminded the other citizens of the literal Hell they’d just gone through, and they kicked them out. And remember, they met and saw Wyll as a human, and then saw him with horns. It’s not unreasonable to think that by looking at him they would be reminded of all the events that led them to the awful situation they’re in. Because of someone that was making deals with devils, just like Wyll. Even if his situation is completely different. And Wyll knows that, that’s why he tells you the tieflings are unsettled by him and chooses to stay away during the party.

It was never just about the horns.

And I know Wyll calls himself a devil but I think it’s because it’s the closest thing he looks as; devils are a whole different race with their own intricacies, although humans can be turned into devils ONCE their souls go to Avernus and they start climbing the power hierarchy there (Mizora and Raphael are cambions/ half-devils btw, which is a different thing,  there are plenty of videos exploring those details more in depth).

Do I think Larian should have made some of this information clearer/easier to access? Maybe? but to be fair, it's a game focused and dedicated to a crowd that was already somewhat familiar with the source material, that blew up waay out of what they originally expected to reach. Hopefully they’ll add some clarifications like they did to other quests. 

Anyway these are my two cents to the conversation, have a nice day, and don't hesitate to add your two cents if you feel like it!

[hannahbarberra162]

Long Forgotten Fairytale (Soft Yan Shamrock x Reader)

I wanted to write this since I saw stupid sexy Shamrock. This will be softer than you'd expect - Shamrock's not going to be too mean in this one.

This one is dedicated to following your dreams (starting new series) and never letting the haters (other WIPs) get you down (feeling immense guilt about taking a long time to update other fics due to getting sidetracked by various DILFS)

TW: canon typical violence, slavery. First chapter Sham and reader are literal children. There will be NSFW elements later on when they are older.

Shamrock eyed the new slave Father bought for his usage with an upturned lip. Father had brought him a useless girl when he’d asked for another boy. It was a pitiful looking thing too, nothing like the robust slaves he’d been given in the past. Its face was turned towards the floor, as was fitting someone of its position, the chain attached to its collar ending in a handle Father held. 

“Father, take this thing away,” Shamrock whined, giving it a harsh kick to the shins with his steel toed boot. For its part, the slave made no movement even when he repeated the action into its other leg, the only sound emanating from it was the clinking of the chains attached to its collar.

“No, Shamrock. You’ve killed all your previous slaves, the number is now in the twenties. It is bothersome to continuously buy new ones and have them trained only for you to kill them in a day. Perhaps since this isn’t a boy you won’t kill it on the first day,” Father reprimanded with a bored tone. Shamrock scowled, he hated being told no. He was a Celestial Dragon - a god - he should be able to have anything he wanted! And he wanted a boy slave so they could fight to the death. Shamrock was twelve and he felt that he’d been ready to kill men for years but Father only allowed him to fight other boys, saying his skills needed honing before Shamrock could fight men.

“But Father -” Shamrock started to complain, his complaint loose on his tongue. Father backhanded him across the face, sending Shamrock flying into the opposing wall. Shamrock stood back up, rubbing his cheek as the rubble fell off his indoor jacket.

“I won’t repeat myself, Shamrock. I expect it to be alive at the end of the week,” Father said, tossing Shamrock the handle. Father left the room as Shamrock dropped the handle in disgust, not wanting to be close to the wretched thing. Huffing, Shamrock straightened his jacket and spoke for the first and last time to the new slave.

“Look up,” Shamrock demanded as the slave raised her face but kept her eyes averted to the floor. Shamrock spat on her face, the glob of spit running down her cheek. He made no orders for her to clean it or move.

“I’ve no need for anything you might provide to me. I neither want to see nor hear you, otherwise I’ll ignore my father’s warning.” With that, Shamrock spun on his heel and left the room.

~

The slave persisted. 

Shamrock ignored it for the first several weeks, going about his routines as was his wont. He knew better than to kill it or pretend it had met an untimely accident, Father had made that clear. Besides, he did need someone to put on his armor, button his shirts, bring his food, and generally attend to all matters beneath a Celestial Dragon like himself. The slave seemed to know its place well, it didn’t speak and emerged even before Shamrock himself identified that he wanted something. Even if he couldn’t fight it, it did have its uses and Father had been right that keeping the same slave around was better than having to retrain new ones to know his preferences. It was restricted to being in the castle so after a while, Shamrock mostly forgot about it except when it entered his field of vision. It was a fine system, if he did say so himself, the invisible slave always available but never a bother to his senses.

When not in combat training, Shamrock was forced to study under his tutors within his wing of the castle. He knew it was important to be intelligent as well as strong, lest he turn out like his failure of a twin, Shanks. Shamrock listened to the tutors drone on about history, science, languages, mathematics but he always found himself straying in thought, especially during his mathematics lessons. In theory, Shamrock found mathematics interesting but this new tutor was not particularly proficient at explanations. Shamrock usually tried to understand the theories but when Shamrock asked questions the tutor would drone the same phrases over and over, not giving any further information to Shamrock’s queries. It made Shamrock want to go to the arena and fight hardened field slaves when the weather was pleasant. 

Today was a prime example. The weather outside was delightful and all Shamrock wanted to do was practice his form and moves on live slaves until he perfected his stance. Since Shamrock had shown restraint and not killed his slave, Father had allowed him to finally start fighting hardened slaves in the arena. It was Shamrock's favorite part of the day, being able to push himself to the limit as he fought former gladiators, field slaves, and anyone else his Father bought for him.

As the tutor was speaking about some new math equations or other, Shamrock idly wondered if Shanks had any lessons aboard the Oro Jackson or only received fighting lessons from Gol D. Roger. His dream was to fight Shanks and emerge victorious over his errant brother, though he’d already heard stories of Shanks’s prowess. Shamrock was wondering what training aboard a pirate ship would entail when a ruler brought sharply down on the tops of his hands brought him back to the present. He made no noise of pain though the rap on his knuckles had bothered him. 

“Shamrock, focus. I am leaving you with this work to complete. You have been shirking responsibility lately, not paying attention during our lessons. If I return tomorrow to find it hasn’t been finished, the consequences will be severe. You’ll be whipped, I can assure you,” the tutor scolded as he packed up to leave. Shamrock didn’t care for his mathematics tutor most of all, his clear lack of fighting ability only second to the fact that he often gave Shamrock homework. The threat wasn’t idle either, Father had whipped Shamrock a few times for being irresponsible and not completing his lessons. One day he’d kill Father for such offenses but for now he’d have to do as he was told.

Shamrock looked down at the paper in front of him, the multi-part questions making him want to throw it in the fire. Shamrock began working on the first question with a sigh, thinking through the answers and writing the figures he calculated. His quill stabbed through the paper a few times in an effort to be done with the work quickly but the equations were tedious and took mental effort. As he began the third question of ten, his attention began to waver when a warm breeze wafted through the window and he heard the birds chirping happily. Looking at the sun shining outside the castle walls, Shamrock set the paper down, mentally preparing to complete his homework later that night after sparring practice. 

The only time the homework graced Shamrock’s mind again was when he entered his study room the following morning and saw the familiar paper on his desk. The tutor was already present, looking over the sheet with a red-inked quill. Seeing no need to avoid the topic, Shamrock sat in his familiar seat silently and waited for the tutor to speak first. Looking at Shamrock over his small spectacles, the tutor set the paper before Shamrock and crossed his arms.  Blinking a few times Shamrock steeled himself for what he knew would be coming. 

“Quite the surprise,” his tutor stated in a neutral tone, handing him the paper.

Though his face kept the disinterest facade he always wore as he looked at the paper in front of him, Shamrock was shocked. The first three problems had a few marks indicating he’d gotten something wrong but the rest of the completed homework just had check marks indicating he’d gotten the right answer with only a few corrections to the way the numbers were written. 

“Excellent job, Shamrock. I wasn’t expecting you to master this lesson so quickly but your work shows wonderful progress. Your handwriting still leaves something to be desired but that is not my domain,” the tutor praised as Shamrock poured over the paper, his eyebrow slightly raised. He tuned out the rest of the lesson from the tutor, his mind working out the puzzle set before him. By the time the tutor was packing up his belongings, Shamrock had a fairly certain idea what had happened. After congratulating him once more, the tutor left the room and the snick of the door handle let Shamrock know he was alone once more.

Well, not quite alone. 

In the next breath, Shamrock had his hand pulling the hair of the slave back to expose its throat, where he had pressed his drawn sword. It had been standing with its hands in front of it, head bowed, by the window behind him as was its way during his lessons but now he was pressing his blade hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. The slave’s breath hitched though it remained silent. 

“Why,” Shamrock growled out. It blinked a few times as tears fell down its cheeks but said nothing. He supposed he should tell it to speak, otherwise he could kill it and it would remain silent. 

“Tell me,” Shamrock bit out, annoyed he had to repeat speaking to it.

“Y-young Master, I -” the slave began, swallowing thickly against the blade at its throat.

“I could kill you now,” Shamrock stated.

“Yes, Young Master,” it replied obediently.

“I could make you beg me to kill you,” he continued.

“Yes, Young Master.”

“If I killed you right now, no one would know and no one would care. You wouldn’t even be buried, just fed to the animals in the moat. Your life is meaningless,” Shamrock seethed at you. 

“Yes, Young Master,” you cowered but weren’t able to move between the sword at your throat and the fist pulling your hair. Blood began to trickle down into the neckline of your dress, soaking it in a familiar shade of red.

“So why did you do it?” Shamrock asked, his eyes boring into your face. 

“I didn’t want you to be whipped, Young Master,” you said in a whisper. Shamrock said nothing and pressed his blade harder against your throat as he studied you further. He hadn’t ever actually looked at you before, he realized. You weren’t bad looking for a slave, he supposed, he’d seen worse. You tensed as if preparing yourself for your death but Shamrock removed his blade, wiping your disgusting blood on the pants you’d be laundering later. He kept his fist in your hair, glad he was wearing gloves so he didn’t have to touch it directly.

“Why?” he continued to press harshly, now curious as to your answer.

“I -I …it would hurt you,” you replied shakily. Shamrock felt an unfamiliar sensation as he watched you wring your hands. Another thought occurred to Shamrock that had him narrowing his eyes at your innocent act.

“Do you know how to read and write?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. Slaves were taught numbers in order to fulfill their duties but were expressly forbidden from reading and writing. He dropped your hair from his fist but put his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to kill you at the faintest whiff of insubordination among the slaves. It might be fun to sniff out traitors to the family, he thought to himself. Perhaps he could persuade Father to let him interrogate the slaves as practice.

“No, Young Master,” you replied, back to bowing your head down towards the ground. 

“Then how did you answer the questions correctly?” 

“I am in the presence of your lessons, Young Master. I listen to the tutor as I am awaiting your needs. I await justice for my transgression,” you said, dropping to your knees and bowing your head to the floor like the adults did when they spoke out of turn or tripped on the carpets. Shamrock was getting awfully tired of seeing the top of your head when he wanted to speak to your face. 

“You’re forgiven, stand back up,” Shamrock said dismissively. You jerked but did as he said, returning to your puny height. What did he care if you listened to his mathematics lessons daily? You were clearly bright, perhaps you could tutor him better than the stuffy old man he’d been given. As you stood up, Shamrock gave you another once over, noting the blood still seeping from your neck. 

“Change your clothes to something clean. I don’t want to look at rags covered in blood,” he said before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

After the mathematics incident, Shamrock was unable to go back to ignoring you as before. You were like a splinter in his finger, invisible to the eye but felt all the same. You still attended lessons with him and had begun offering a succinct explanation of the math tutor’s lessons after the tutor left. Shamrock found your explanations to be much clearer and more precise and thus his understanding of mathematics had grown. Outside of his direct questioning, you remained silent and did whatever he needed as you had before. But Shamrock began to notice you more as you went about your day with him. 

You were not interesting, exactly. Not really. You were his shadow, someone to mold to any need he saw fit. And yet some of your reactions and statements left him intrigued. For example, one day Shamrock finished eating his afternoon snack in the library and you came to take his tray away. He’d been given a particularly ripe, sweet peach and eaten half, leaving the other hemisphere to be discarded. As you took the tray away so he could resume reading, you stared curiously at the fruit as you walked towards the slave’s stations.

“What’s wrong with the peach?” Shamrock asked, not looking up from his book about ship designs. 

“Forgive me, Young Master,” you replied. Your response irritated Shamrock because he always had to ask more questions to get past the apologies and requests for justice.

“I’m not chastising you. What is wrong with the peach?” he said, grinding the tip of his knife idly into the table top.

“Nothing, Young Master,” you replied meekly. 

“Then why do you stare at it as if it is the One Piece itself?” he asked, now digging his knife into the priceless table.

“Forgi -”

“Enough. Spit it out, then,” Shamrock said, wanting to hear the real answer.

“I was wondering what it tasted like,” you said, turning in his direction while your gaze remained trained on the floor. An errant thought had Shamrock wondering what color eyes you had.

“Slaves don't eat the leftover food?” Shamrock asked as you looked at the plate. He'd never really thought about it before, but that would make sense so they wouldn't have to spend as much money feeding the slaves.

“No, Young Master. The justice for stealing food from the gods is death,” you said in your small voice.

“Bring it to me,” he ordered, taking his knife out of the table. You complied, bringing him back his tray without question. Shamrock took the peach off the plate and sliced into it with his knife, the juice running down the blade. Taking a segment that hadn't touched his own mouth, he held it up in the air.

“Come here,” he commanded. You set the tray down and approached him, your only tell the faint tremor in your hands.

“Open your mouth,” he continued. Shamrock wasn't sure why he didn't have you eat it off the table or from his knife, but something new within him was directing his actions. You dutifully opened your mouth, awaiting his next instruction. Shamrock knew he could have left you in such a position all day should he want to but he didn't feel like teasing. Instead, he brought the fresh fruit to your mouth, his heavenly fingers close to your lips.

“Bite,” he said in a hushed tone. You did as he commanded, biting into the soft fruit held aloft by his fingers as you let out a soft sound of surprise. Juices now ran down his hand as you chewed the novel food. You closed your eyes, as if savoring every moment the fruit touched your tongue. 

“Now you know,” Shamrock stated, unsure why he was watching your tongue lick your lips for any trace remnants of the peach.

“Thank you, Young Master,” you said, bowing to him. Nothing had changed and yet something imperceptible had. Shamrock couldn’t put his finger on it and stared at you, trying to understand what kind of spell you’d put him under.

He'd have to investigate further.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[threepandas]

Bad End: Trust

"Meet your new mates, cargo! Get breeding!"

I didn't understand the bellowed noises at the time. It was just incoherent gibberish. Heaped on top of what was likely a concussion, mixed with what ever drugs they had pumped me with. Thrown into a cell, roughly, and hitting the ground hard. I couldn't have caught myself if I had wanted too. My limbs, unresponsive and dragging meat, that I could barely FEEL.

Please, god, I had thought. Don't let me be paralyzed. Not on top of everything else.

They'll kill me.

Behind and around me, the weeping cries of sorrow and fear rang out. Screams of violence, born of desperation. Countless races, bound together, suffering in this hell. Newly enslaved. I didn't... I couldn't understand. Shaking and struggling to remain conscious, laying on the blood stained floor. The world swayed violently. It was all I could do, to barely keep from passing out.

It was so cold. The air, the floor, the deep and clawing despair, sinking like knives into my gut. Those furry... things, had grabbed me while I was alone, before I could react. W-would anyone notice? Could anyone DO anything? I wanted to get away from the door. Curl up in a corner and... and cry. But I could not move. Like a doll, dropped thoughtlessly on the floor, I could not... could not move.

Tears I likely could not afford, threatened to choke me.

I... I was scared.

Then, deeper in the hovel that was my new home, movement. The heavy clink of chains. Shifting, slow and careful, followed by the drag of metal. A warm hand. Fingers, calloused but careful, checking my neck. My pulse, for injury perhaps, I couldn't tell. But... god, i could have sobbed in relief. They... they felt human.

How terrible of me. That I was GLAD not to be alone. T-That it was relief, to have another person here. Someone who might know what's going on. What to do. To.. to stick with. I... I should wish it was just me, right? That they captured no one else? But... oh god. O-Oh God, I can't! I'm scared. Please. P-please...

I'm so scared.

The person checking me hummed low and soft. Their voice crackling like an old radio that's been left sitting on a shelf too long, unused. How.. how long has it been? Since they last had anyone to talk too? They sounded male, but.. but I didn't want to presume. Could just have a low voice. Throat injury. Might be Trans. I didn't care, couldn't care. I was pretty sure? We were all we had now.

They... no, He, found nothing alarming enough not to move me. Shifting into view as he gently slipped his arms under me. Enough to pick me up and carry me away from the door. He was... is... pretty handsome.

Okay, REALLY handsome.

Horrifically enough? I could see WHY they grabbed him. Athletic as hell, TV ready, really smart. If you were going to ignore ever bit of decency and morality to ever exsist? Might as well go for the best, I guess. Don't know why they grabbed ME, but I guess? They need a stand in or something? Or my predecessor is dead.

(God, I hope she's dead. The alternative...)

Pretty quickly became apparent, though, that one of the main problems (of so, SO many)? Was we don't actually speak the same language. Which... I mean... Well, shit. That's, putting it mildly, "less then ideal". Being unable to communicate with the only other person nominally on "My Side"? Kinda bad! But, I AM learning. And I am teaching him english! So there's that.

We have nothing but time, after all. It helps distract from the suffering just outside. The weeping and screams. The sounds that must be begging, in alien dialects. All the mercies they do not find.

(Is it terrible? That I am glad I can not understand what they are saying? Their cries for help? I can't help them. It hurts. Helpless to even save my self. God, I'm sorry. Please... I'm... I'm so sorry...)

Food gets shoved in. Lights flipped on. Lights shut off. The timer odd, but probably standard for somewhere. It's like being told to go to sleep halfway through the afternoon. Yanked awake before full nights are done. I struggle to adapt, even a little, following my fellow prisoner's lead. Or, well, trying too. There's a lot of charades at first.

Then, practicing our languages. Taking what naps and cuddling for warmth we can. Harsh lights be damned. It's cold, we're tired, but we have to keep our strength up. Right? Throughout it all, I try to ignore the weird smells they pump in. Still not used to getting random scents blasted at my head from above, from the air vents in the walls.

Day in, day out, rinse and repeate. The weird gasses smells like people have had sex, to be honest. I think? But don't quote me. They might be trying to get us to "mate", like animals, so they can sell our kids. Induce some nonexistent human heat cycle or something. I've kinda started to worry, not gonna lie, about what they'll do... you know, once they finally get frustrated. Figure out, we don't work like that.

Or... more relevantly, might not even be? Compatible?

Cause Azenari is DEFINITELY not a human. They fucked uuuup. Cause if he is? There is some probably serious divergent evolution going on. He did NOT get nabbed from Earth. HE got nabbed from his SHIP(as in, yeah, a fuckin Space Ship). Because HIS people are space faring! The man has pointy ears for fucks sake! Some seriously fangy canines. And while, yeah, seriously kinda cool? No idea if our species are related, or... you know...

So yeah, The Fur Covered Slaver Bastards are apparently Humanoid face blind, on TOP of being just generally terrible. Or dumb! Might be dumb, honestly. Wouldn't put it past them. Banality of evil and all that. But recently? There was a... tension. Something was coming. The Bastards seemed twitchy.

"Not long now, beloved. We're two stops from the extraction ambush." Azenari murmured, from where he was tucked loosely around me as I watch the latest patrol pass, one arm cradling me tight. Even as, with the other hand, he sleepily stroked my back. "You'll look lovely in proper robes. You deserve finery, my love."

I couldn't understand most of the sentence. Normally he simplified for me, since I was still learning. He seemed... pleased? Smug? The more tense and twitchy the Bastards got, the more darkly amused he seemed to become. As though he knew exactly why. As though he was laughing inside.

"My magnificent darling, you'll belong to me in everyway that matters. I'll take safer jobs. No more slave ring stings. I promise."

Oh. I think I got it. Azenari though of me as family! Yeah, that tracked. Trauma bonding and all. I did too. Couldn't help but smile, hugging him back, much to his clear delight. Yeah. We were in this together.

I'm glad I had someone I could trust. The universe was big and I would be pretty much alone without him. All but thrown at his feet and told I was his, Azenari had every chance to hurt me. But he didn't. He was a good man. Solid and stable when everything when frightening, warm and there when I needed to hide.

Really, it was only a matter of time before we would be chatting like old friends!

"You are NEVER going to escape me, beloved."

"I Love You."

[reanniee]

denial

aventurine x reader

notes: nsfw, smut, oral (female receiving), voyeurism, power imbalance, unhealthy relationship, mention of slavery, mention of sa word count: 2.0k

aventurine is a selfish man, afterall.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. afterall, what use is the past? the only thing important to him now is the future. there is no need to look back on such trivial memories, on such useless moments.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. aventurine has no need for such simple memories, for such simple emotions. so, he ignores and rids of anything that may revive his memories of such a trivial and unimportant time.

though, there is something he cannot bring himself to rid of–you.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. as he keeps you at a strict distance. never too close, yet never too far from him. he makes sure that you are still in his sight, still in his grasp, still in his heart, and still in his life.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. so, he constantly reminds himself that you are nothing more than a bodyguard. nothing more than a mere tool, a mere weapon he has saved and decided to hire.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. so, he constantly tells himself that he does not love you. he needs to repeat it to himself to remind himself of the promise he made.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past. so, he is perfectly normal as the young daughter of the corporate boss, whom aventurine and his fellow stoneheart jade are currently negotiating with, approaches, and whispers something into her father’s ears.

he is perfectly normal as the woman blushes as she pulls away, and her father clears his throat, proposing an offer to the two stonehearts.

he is perfectly normal as the old man asks how much it is to purchase the lovely bodyguard by his side. the old man states that he will do any price.

he is perfectly normal as jade laughs whilst he is frozen in shock, unable to respond. she questions the old man’s use of the word ‘anything.’

he is perfectly normal as the old man nods. she laughs again before proposing that, perhaps a night would be satisfactory instead, at the cost of an extra 20%, that is.

he is perfectly normal as the old man looks to his daughter, to where she happily nods her head as the old man sighs, then expresses his agreement to the deal. jade then looks to you, asking if you are alright with the deal.

he is perfectly normal as you look towards him for approval, to where he provides no reaction, as he is perfectly normal. you turn back to jade, pausing a moment, then, you nod, stating that it is alright with you.

there is no reason for him to feel upset. no reason. he is perfectly normal.

he watches as the daughter of the old man seemed to light up, sparking with enjoyment and excitement. he watched as she ran up to you and grasped your soft hands, intertwining them with hers as she pulled you away.

he watches as the old man signed the contract that jade had written up for him, waved the two farewells, then exited the room, leaving the two stonehearts together.

he watches as jade laughs at him, placing a hand on his shoulder and asking if he were truly okay with sending you to that woman. he merely responds with what does it matter to him.

he watches as jade places a hand on his back, as if to console him. he does not need to be consoled. he is perfectly normal. she laughs at him, tells him he is in denial, before departing.

he watches as jade stops just before opening the door, telling him to go to the after party in an hour. it is important to keep up appearances in the ipc, she reminds him. and she warns him to control himself.

why would he need to control himself? jade does not need to remind him. he is aventurine, an esteemed member of the ten stonehearts under the ipc. aventurine has no need for such emotions.

aventurine arrives at the party an hour after his meeting. an hour after the deal was made. an hour after he sold you away. an hour after you left his side.

aventurine forces a slight smile onto his face as he converses with the other attendees at the party. it was a sultry and relaxing atmosphere, the lights dim as drinks were handed out.

aventurine finds himself walking around, scanning the entire room, trying to find where you are. he is stopped by many guests, constantly forced to put on a front and converse where the only thing on his mind is to find you.

aventurine tries his best to hold his composure as he finally spots you. you are with that woman. he watches as the woman pushes up against you, her cheeks flushed, seemingly tipsy.

he watches as the blush on her face grows, her expression morphing and her eyes showing a sense of desire. he watches as she smiles towards you, then grabs your hand and leads you to a secluded area with a couch. he finds himself following you two.

he watches as she pushes your shoulders down, forcing you to sit on the couch as she stands above you. he watches as your face has a slight blush. you must be tipsy, he tells himself.

he watches as she climbs into your lap, straddling your lap and leans into your face. he watches as she is now mere inches away from your face, lips close to touching. he watches as she leans forward, initiating a long and sensual kiss.

he watches as she pulls away after some time, gasping for air. a string of saliva continues to connect you two as the woman breathes heavily, attempting to catch her breath.

he watches as your eyes seem to get cloudy. a hint of desire forming within your mind as you stare up into the woman’s eyes as she breathes heavily. you are drunk, he tells himself.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you quickly flip the woman over, swapping your positions. you are drunk, he tells himself as you hungrily reinitiate the kiss, your tongue diving into the mouth of the woman now underneath you.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you raise your hands, interlocking with those of the woman beside her shoulders. you are drunk, he tells himself as when you pull away, you stare deeply and lovingly into the eyes of the woman who was struggling to breathe in front of you.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you slowly move down the woman’s body, placing kisses along a trail as you move downwards. you are drunk, he tells himself as you stop at her chest, fondling and placing soft, tender kisses at her breasts.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you pause and gaze into the eyes of the woman you are making love to. you maintain eye contact with the woman as you continue to trail down her body, stopping right above her cunt. you are drunk, he tells himself as you softly ask, may i, whilst arousal and need could be easily sensed from your eyes.

you are drunk, he tells himself as the woman shyly nods, to where you immediately rip off her skirt and underwear. you are drunk, he tells himself as you grab the woman’s thighs, spreading them apart as you keep a hand on each leg, giving you full access to the woman.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you dive your face into the cunt of the woman before you, skillfully and tenderly lapping at her insides and seeking her immediate pleasure, just like you were taught back then. you are drunk, he tells himself as you keep your eyes focused on hers, gauging her reaction.

you are drunk, he tells himself as her hands grip the hair on your scalp, begging you to stop as her orgasm was already near, her voice nothing but a crying mess. you are drunk, he tells himself as you refuse, continuing to give the woman nothing but complete and utter pleasure.

you are drunk, he tells himself as the woman releases, moaning out loud and gripping your hair. you are drunk, he tells himself as the woman begs for you to stop as it is too much, she’s too sensitive. you are drunk, he tells himself as he watched you continue to pleasure the woman, riding out her orgasm.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you finally pull away, arms still grabbing onto the thighs of the woman and your eyes continuing to keep direct contact with her. 

you are drunk, he tells himself as you stay there for a moment, watching the woman before you, watching the woman who had struggled to catch her breath, watching the woman who had a deep red flush on her face, watching the woman with small drool dripping from the side of her mouth, watching the woman you made like this.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you rise, placing a knee between her cunt and edging your face closer to hers, laughing as she weakly grips onto your shirt. you are drunk, he tells himself as you tease her, speaking nothing but sweet nothings and praises into her ears.

you are drunk, he tells himself as you kiss the woman before you affectionately. deeply. passionately. lovingly. 

aventurine is a selfish man.

aventurine refuses to acknowledge his past, just like he refuses to acknowledge the current situation in front of him.

he refuses to be with you–he refuses to love you–he refuses to bed with you–he refuses to force himself onto you.

he does not want to reawaken the horrible memories you have sealed away. the horrible memories that must still haunt you. the horrible memories that have left a permanent scar on you forever, both mentally and physically.

he keeps a strict distance between you two as to not inflict more pain onto you. he does this to save you–to protect you; just as he promised he would since the day he freed you. since the day he freed himself.

though, perhaps, just maybe. he does this all to save himself–to protect himself.

he does not need you. he does not care for you. he does not love you. 

he constantly repeats to himself.

he does not want to need you. he does not want to care for you. he does not want to love you.

and yet–despite all he tells himself, despite all he repeats to himself–he loves you greatly, more than he could ever say out loud.

but for your sake–for his sake, he must never tell you his true feelings. he swore to protect you, he swore to save you–he swore to protect himself, he swore to save himself.

he is now aventurine. kakavasha is no more. and aventurine has no need for such simple emotions. aventurine has no need for such simple desires. aventurine has no need for such jealous. aventurine has no need for such love.

so he swallows his pride, swallows his emotions, swallows his love for you–forcing himself to stand there and watch you.

for now, allow him to maintain a slightly smile and a calm expression. for now, allow him to keep up appearances as the esteemed aventurine of the ten stonehearts. for now, allow him to believe that he is perfectly normal. for now, allow him to believe that he does not want you. for now, allow him to believe that he does not love you, for one day he knows that he will break.

aventurine is a selfish man, after all. and he will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[mxfrodo]

y'all for fucking real. don't fucking write slave fics or x reader fics of aventurine's slavery??? are you guys out of your goddamn minds???

[defire]

A whumpee with an unshakeable belief in their own worth

Content: slave/pet whump, caning, whipping

Hear me out--this can provoke the most cruel reaction from a whumper.

(some slave/pet whumpee ideas)

when whumper figures out whumpee thinks of themself as an equal, they're going to need to break them of it.

Whippings, beatings, public humiliation, whatever they think will shatter whumpee's sense of self.

They see that spark in their eye. Ten lashes. Tilt their chin up. The spark is still there. Ten more. And so on.

Whumpers lower in the hierarchy are going to want to take the piss out of them to prove themselves. They're even more insecure

"you think just because I'm not your master, I can't hurt you?" "It's not like that. I'm not challenging you." "Then what's that goddamn look on your face?"

Maybe whumpee actually tries to think like they want them to, in self-preservation. But they know they don't deserve to be treated like this.

"eyes on the ground." "Yes sir." "Yes 'YOUR LORSHIP'!" "Yes your lordship." *Whumper glares.* "Cane them."

Little tells like whumpee smiles innocently when whumper smiles. Mimicking body language can be a subconscious way to acknowledge an equal.

Whumpee tries to make up for it by doing everything right, trying to show respect (though they feel genuinely hurt when it isn't returned)

Yet somehow that self-respect they have is always showing up at the wrong moment and getting them punished, again.

"repeat after me. 'I am an animal.'" *whumpee, attempting to hide a detached disbelief* "I am an animal?" "IT'S NOT A QUESTION!"

[itsguysnightitsironic]

"We can always get naked and cuddle for warm"

Let's go home.

Icebound has hands, déu meu, and themes, Derek sisplau, I don't have any grief left

Some rambling under the cut:

I need that polar bear brush to be real and send-

[sarafangirlart]

Honestly if we really want to talk about “silenced” voices in mythology, let’s talk more about the slavery, even when a character is enslaved and very open about how miserable and horrific it is, there is rarely ever condemnation of slavery as a whole, it’s seen as a fact of life, characters that are “good guys” are depicted as having slaves. Also why was Ajax raping Cassandra any different than Agamemnon making her his concubine? In both instances consent is impossible. Even misogyny is called out and condemned more often.

[ani-and-the-corries-au]

There are some things that all troopers know Nat born's will never understand.

All the troopers grew up in a world where perfection was the standard and anything less resulted in death. Where individuality was a crime and being anything more than just another number was a danger, Where saying the wrong thing in front of the wrong person could get you killed.

All troopers know this, but post Kamino the Guards have had it drilled into them all over again. If they want to survive In the Senate they have to fall back on the lessons they learned on Kamino.

The Corries know that there are some things that nat born's will never understand. Things that Nat born's shouldn't understand.

So no one in the guard quite knows how to feel about the strange fallout of the Shiney squad's Jetti Cadets apparent discovery of the Guards position on Courcant.

It starts small, the guard notices that the boy stops being weird about the fact that most of the Corries don't use their names, when asked, the boys. "It's because I know that you have them now." raises more questions than answers, because apparently the boy just figured out that they used their designation numbers around the Senate because their names were a secret on his own. He also seemed to get an unreasonable amount of joy from the fact that all the clones chose their own names.

If it has stopped there then it probably wouldn't be so weird, but it didn't. From sneaking in extra medical supplies and food, (actual food, not just ration bars) when he discovered that 'depur' was cutting their budget for stuff that they needed to function, to the way he seemed to intrinsically understand their need for secrecy, and their reasoning for it. "secrets keep us safe." Without anyone seemingly telling him.

They all agreed that they weren't gonna ask about how the boy had managed to rangle several senators around to the truth of the situation and his point of view with only a few words to one of them. A point of view that not only had them working on trooper sentient rights bills, but also had them aiding in his more under the table helping.

At first it was weird and confusing, both because this kid was a nat born, and because how did a Jetti Cadet develop this kind of understanding, he was a child. It took them a while to connect the dots, Even as the boy started unconsciously dropping hints.

At first it was that weird little nickname he had for the Senate and Senators, in a language that even the most nerdy of Corries didn't seem to understand. They weren't sure what a Depur was, but apparently it applied to the Senate and was probably not a good thing.

The next clue was the stories, because as Anakin spent more time with the guard, becoming more of a Vod'ika than a Jetti Commander and subsequently beginning to learn more and more about the secrets that they kept from the rest of the Senate.

As the boy learnt about the lighter side of the inner workings of the guard, and how to speak the clones particular brand of Mando'a, the guards began to learn stories about Ekkreth, Leia and Ar Amu, stories about secret plots and tricking the The infamous Depur in ways that resulted in the freedom of those he enslaved.

About secret Languages, Tzai, Jappor snippets and secret rituals. About the ways one could steal back some control from the Masters in ways that they would never even notice. About things that the boy claimed that all Slaves should know, lessons that would help keep them safe from their Masters. A term that by now the guards suspended was not referring to the kind the Jedi had.

By the time the boy causally mentioned that he and his mother had been enslaved prior to him being taken to the temple, the Guards already had a pretty decent picture of the situation.

The fact that the boy had been adopting them into his own culture right under their noses had been vastly more surprising. He'd been a little awkward when he'd admitted it. Saying that he knew that they were sort of Mando'ade, but they could be Amavikka too if they wanted.

And sure, maybe it was a little dark that part of the reason the boy spent so much time in the barracks was because it felt familiar, but also this kid cared about every single one of them, to the point where he apparently sees them as family.

Well it really was no wonder that it was agreed that the entire guard would do just about anything for their Ad'ika. Including possibly stopping said Ad'ika from doing the same for them. (Bloody Skywalkers)

[tocomplainfriend]

Oh no

TW - racism and Slavery, power dynamics

really meh. IDK why they went mecha with the cherubs. The energy of the fight and how much it lasted was really lacking. I'm annoyed still by the "GUYS STOLAS IS SO SAAAAAD" bullshit. Why is the thumbnail so bad? I thought it was fake.

There is not an understanding of classism or power dynamics or anything.

Blitz was right, Stolas is a privileged asshole that constantly reduced their relationship into something sexual and belittled blitz, in remarks of him as a lower / IMP. Stolas did a scenario where Blitz job depended on them having sex. The series is creating a scenario where Blitz needs to love Stolas back because Stolas is so UWU sad baby that 'loves' him.

The main reason i hated the re-write of Stolas and blitz meeting-is because is exactly this: (something I've been aware of for a while.)

This exact situation of white slave owners making the kids of their slaves play with their white kids (I originally got introduced to this idea for a long form criticism of the Princess and the frog Story from Disney). IDK why would you make a scenario where there is inequality to the imps and how they suffer racism- if you just want Stolas to be in the right and Blitz in the wrong

I do not care if Stolas is sad and his life (even tho better because he is rich and has a literal book that gives him powers, vs being an IMP that could die, suffer from property and any possible scenario they are exposed to- or be a slave servant to the richer people because they were born imps.) he doesn't get to freed from all his wrong doings. No matter how depressed he is, his power is still higher and over Blitz. And creating a terrible scenario for blitz or any Imp for that matter.

They are really going for the plot line of But Stolas is a good rich privileged person.

Also, a scenario where the discriminated x privileged... There is the direct connection to the "what about everyone else".

If a non discriminated against person with big power is not bigoted to the person, the one they fell in love with. Does only that one discriminated person get saved from their social situation? Does everybody else still suffers because they don't happen to be the one. But what if the privileged person still discriminates against those people, but not their "special one".

Also... if you get a scenario as the discriminated one where you get to be saved from your situation, that's fucked. This person loves you if you say yes to them then you don't have to deal with being poor and as oppressed by the system but only you! Your entire group of people lives in the same conditions as you... If you say no, then you'll go back to being oppressed. This person on power hold power over you still. How much can you wight in with your own problems and boundaries, if the other one can throw you away into your old way of living. Can you leave the relationship? If you leave, you can get all the things you did with the privileged person cause maybe they don't hate you for being from a certain minority group, but the system over all hasn't changed. Can your group of people only get better life conditions by loving the pre-existing group in power? Those that person even like you, or do they like the power they hold onto you? Or maybe they like your race for your race more than you as a person.

Just a thing in the writing of this kind of story.

Also, character can have flaws, but they need to be recognized as flaws in writing.

Stolas are constantly victimizing himself (just like any sad privileged asshole would). He can't take the fact that if blitz is angry at him is for a reason, because he doesn't see his treatment of his as a bad thing. Cause in Stoals pov he enjoyed having power over blitz and calling him an IMP and forcing his romanticized view of the situation on to him- But Blitz was pulling a fast one to get money, This rich guy who he got gifted to as a slave playmate now is holding his job over his head in exchanged for sex, the same guy constantly does sexual advances towards him even when he explicitly says he doesn't want that (remember all of Loo loo land episode?), he gets call plenty of imp based "petnames" (“My impish little play-thing”) from a guy that can literary buy imps as slaves any day, suddenly he has to reciprocate his romantic feelings because he is sad, and apparently he wanted something more even thought he made it entirely empty and sexual all this time.

Stolas fake apologized, got fairly screamed at and victimized himself.

And apparently calling him out is bad for Blitz to do? Victim blaming.

I think by the last episode, they are going to kick Stolas out of the castle, technically putting him in a similar social position to imps with nowhere to go. Even if it doesn't magically work that way. -and Stolas is going to be "more sad and more in the right, so Blitz has no ground to complain now, right!?" ...

The way all of this episode and series is written tries so hard to delete any negative feeling against systemic problems, classism related issues, etc. if it's against a character the series wants you to like. If it's Stolas then he did nothing wrong, the power dynamic doesn't exist... if it is Mammon then he is a terrible person holding his power over others' capitalism sucks... oh but not Stolas tho! If it is Ozzi there is no power dynamic over a disabled imp, constant searching for appreciation from someone he fells is above him (like he tried to get with Mammon, because Ozzie is a good highly privileged person. No bad things to look out for! Fuck capitalism, but I'm one of the good rich people, no criticism is possible!

All that bad stuff could that people in my position of power is awful! But I would, could never do that! Because I'm a good one! Hmm

If you don't see the problem here, you may be a problem or may be justifying something terrible.

Also, funny enough about the short of Millie and Sally... I can't believe you only get content of a female character AND MILLIE IN SPECIFIC in extra side content that Viv didn't even care enough to write herself... and also the short gave me nothing new about her, I got more for Sally (and finally something normal! More than a line and she gets to have a character).

I hope there is a better episode for her.