#utterly facinated

[brbgensokyo]

learning about early statecraft is so facinating because you begin to see the threads of ambition behind every project especially in the feint and odd details

[ivilrat]

Me: Oh I should probably go to bed, I'm pretty tired.

Me, 3 hours later with a google doc multiple pages into an OC & Canon fic: Whoops

[cyberyam]

I don't know if you do requests but it's up to you if you want to do this, can you make a smut monarch! Sung jinwoo x fem reader? 🫣

an. ohOHO this sounds FUN!! [i hope you didn't mean monarchs within the tower red gate because i'm gonna take it and run with this prompt. anyways, thank you for your service xoxox; it is also longer than expected-i also wrote this between lectures and writing notes lmao]

anatomy.

pairing: Prince!Sung Jin-Woo x FemMaid!Reader

cw: smut (18+)

summary: Prince!Sung Jin-Woo is facinated with human anatomy, and becomes fascinated with FemMaid!Reader

wc: 2.5k words

Prince Sung Jin-Woo often found solace in the grand library of his castle. Other worldly pleasures held little appeal to him—he chased knowledge. He wanted to know all there was to know, and his current fascination lay in the intricacies of human anatomy.

He found it entrancing—the way muscles contracted with the mere thought of movement, how his own body had grown sculpted and strong from relentless training. The rippling of his abdomen, the sinewy strength of his arms, the subtle yet stark differences between the male and female form—all of it fascinated him.

Seated on the wide windowpane of the library, one leg propped up and the other dangling loosely over the edge, his focus was abruptly stolen by the sweetest sound drifting in from the slightly ajar window. A laugh—light, genuine, and unrestrained.

His gaze shifted downward, searching for the source. And there you were.

Only moments ago, you had been hanging the washing to dry, but now, you stood soaked—an unfortunate accident at the hands of another maid, who was bowing her head in frantic apology. But you? You merely laughed. Not out of mockery, nor frustration, but in sheer amusement at the situation. The cool water was a welcome relief against the punishing heat of the sun, and the expression on your fellow maid’s face was simply too priceless to ignore.

This was not the first time he noticed you. In fact, you were a frequent pass-byer in his every day life as you were often tasked with looking after his younger sister. Making sure she was at dinner on time, her cleanliness, ever every need. Even now, you were hanging out her bedding to dry before you were interrupted.

In the times you would float in and out of his surrounding, he would appreciate your beauty for fleeting moments, appreciate the elegance and grace in your actions, but his thoughts were fleeting; for he was a man of scholar. He had convinced himself he did not want to waste his time in earthly pleasures as there was too much in this world to learn. But now…

Prince Sung Jin-Woo watched, utterly captivated.

The way your thin linen dress had darkened and turned sheer, clinging to every curve of your body, left nothing to his imagination. The gentle swell of your hips, the delicate shape of your waist, the fabric molding over your thighs—he could see it all.

But from this distance, seeing was not enough.

He wanted to feel. To trace his fingers along those curves, to explore and commit every dip and hollow of your body to memory. He wanted to lose himself in you.

His voice was smooth, commanding as he finally spoke.

“Butler,” he called, gaze never wavering.

The butler, stationed dutifully by the door, immediately inclined his head. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Bring that girl to me,” he demanded while tapping his finger on the window. “The one who is soaking wet.”

The butler bowed. “As you wish, Sire.”

The cool air of the marble castle halls sent shivers down your still-damp skin as you followed the butler, confusion swirling in your mind. Why had the prince summoned you?

You had insisted on changing and drying off before meeting him, but your request had been swiftly denied.

The butler stopped just before the grand library doors, pushing one open before gesturing for you to step inside. The moment you did, the door shut behind you with a quiet finality.

There, leaning carelessly against the window, stood the prince. One leg crossed over the other, his eyes already fixed on you with an unreadable gaze.

A sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over you. Your damp dress clung uncomfortably to your form, the cool air raising goosebumps along your arms. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself as best you could, hands subtly gripping at the fabric.

Still, you forced yourself to lower your head in a respectful bow, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your stomach.

"Your Highness."

His gaze roamed over your body, drinking in the sight before him. You stared at the marble floor, acutely aware of the weight of his scrutiny.

He watched as you twitched, fingers bunching the damp fabric of your dress in a futile attempt at modesty.

"Don't hide yourself."

His voice was casual, yet there was an unmistakable command beneath the words. He pushed off the windowsill, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

You hesitated, fingers still gripping the fabric before reluctantly letting it slip from your grasp.

"My apologies, Your Highness," you murmured.

He merely hummed in response. Each measured step he took echoed off the grand walls of the library, the sound amplifying the tension in the room. Despite the chill clinging to your skin, heat bloomed across your face, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

When the prince finally stood before you, he was enthralled. Lifting a hand, he gently grasped your chin, tilting your face upward. His dark eyes studied you intently, captivated by the way your cheeks burned under his touch, the way your gaze met his for a fleeting moment before darting away.

"Look at me."

The command was quiet but firm. You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his.

Something stirred within him. Fascination. Intrigue. A growing ache curling in the pit of his stomach, settling low in his body.

"May I touch you, miss?"

You stared at him, dumbfounded by the question. He was your prince—his touch required no permission. And yet, the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes searched yours, made it clear he cared for your answer.

"As you wish, Your Highness," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

His grip on your chin loosened, fingers tracing a featherlight path downward. He followed the curve of your throat, lingering over the delicate lines of your collarbone, before hesitating—just for a moment. Then, his touch continued, trailing lower, brushing over the swell of your chest.

With slow, deliberate movements, this thumb brushed over your nipple. He watched intently as it hardened beneath his touch, your body betraying you. And it only fueled his own hunger.

A gentle whimper pulled him from his trance, his dark eyes snapping back to yours. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way your breaths grew deeper, more unsteady. He wanted more. He wanted to explore you further.

His hands slid down to your hips, fingers pressing in, thumbs drawing slow, deliberate circles against your pelvis. With measured intent, he stepped closer, slipping a leg between yours, pressing his thigh between your own. His warmth seeped through the damp fabric of your dress as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. A shiver coursed through you.

The reaction only excited him.

"Go lay on the ottoman," he murmured, his voice low, vibrating against your skin. When he pulled back to meet your gaze, your eyes were wide.

"But… I am wet, Your Highness. I do not wish to damage—"

Before you could finish, he moved swiftly. In a single, fluid motion, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you effortlessly as he carried you toward the crimson ottoman in the center of the room.

He laid you down, your back meeting the plush velvet. You pushed up onto your elbows, watching as he sank to his knees between your legs. His hand traced a slow path up your calf, the warmth of his palm trailing higher, lifting the fabric of your dress as he moved. When he reached your mid-thigh, he paused. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his gaze locked onto yours, expectant.

"May I, miss?"

His voice was soft but thick with desire. He longed to let his hand wander higher, to see what lay hidden beneath the damp linen.

And when you finally spoke, when those sweet words left your lips, his hunger only deepened.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

He reveled in every reaction he drew from you. Each gasp, each shiver beneath his touch only deepened his fascination. Your bare skin was warm under his hands, and he savored every moment, tracing every curve with slow, deliberate intent.

The way your breath hitched when his fingers skimmed your waist, the way you bit your lip when he teased your nipple—he memorized it all.

But now, his focus had shifted lower on your body.

Between your legs, his thumbs traced slow, teasing circles over your slick heat. He marveled at how your body responded to him—how you trembled, how soft whimpers spilled from your lips, how you arched into his touch as he pressed deeper.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed his thumb inside, feeling the way you clenched around him. His other hand gripped your thigh, steadying you as he moved with slow, deliberate strokes, his gaze never leaving your face. Every shudder, every gasp only stoked the fire burning within him, fraying the last remnants of his restraint.

But it was your voice—breathless, pleading, whispering his title—that finally shattered his composure.

His jaw tensed as he stood, fingers working swiftly to undo the buckle at his waist. His dark gaze bore into yours, searching, savoring the way your lips parted in anticipation.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured, his voice a low, heated rasp as he leaned over you, caging you beneath him.

“P-please,” you gasped, the word barely a breath.

He exhaled sharply, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a smirk.

He lifted your legs, pressing them close to his chest, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as he positioned himself against you. His length teased your entrance, dragging slow, torturous circles against your slick heat, reveling in how easily you parted for him.

Desperate for more, your hips bucked instinctively, seeking him, but his grip on your thighs held you firm. His restraint was maddening—his control unwavering, even as your body begged him to give in.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low and thick with need.

Your gaze met his, wide and pleading, your cheeks burning, your chest bare beneath him. The sight of you—so vulnerable, so desperate—sent a surge of heat through him.

Your breath hitched as he pushed forward, stretching you slowly, savoring the way your body clenched around him. A moan slipped from your lips, your head tilting back at the sensation.

"I said—look at me," he growled, stilling inside you, his grip tightening.

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, filled with longing.

“S-sorry, Y-your Highness,” you stammered, your hips shifting of their own accord, desperate for friction, for movement, for him.

A dark, satisfied smirk curled at his lips. "Good girl," he murmured before finally giving you what you craved.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each one forcing a gasp from your lips, forcing your body to respond to his. He wanted to pull every sound, every shiver, every moan from you—to make you fall apart beneath him.

But as his pace quickened, control slipping through his fingers, he realized he was unraveling just as fast. His own restraint, once so absolute, was breaking. And now, he was chasing something deeper—something raw, something that burned between you, threatening to consume you both whole.

He didn’t want your pleasure to end—he wanted more. He wanted every sound, every tremor, every sharp inhale that left your lips.

When he pulled away, your whimper sent a thrill through him. He spread your legs wider, dropping to his knees, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. You gave him a questioning look, but before you could speak, he lifted your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place. His mouth curled into a slow, knowing grin, his eyes dark with intent—just before he leaned in.

The first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, your fingers twitching before instinctively tangling into his hair. His movements were slow, teasing, savoring the way your body reacted to him. You were warm, soft, and sweet against his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough.

Then, he picked up his pace, switching between long, deliberate laps and deep, insistent flicks, his tongue pressing into you with purpose. Your body jerked at the sensation, your back arching, but his grip on your thighs only tightened, keeping you where he wanted you.

His name left your lips in a breathless moan, and he swore he’d never heard anything sweeter.

The way your body reacted under his touch left him insatiable, left him desperate for more.

You had lost track of time—of how long he had spent teasing you, unraveling you, pushing you past every limit.

Every time you came undone beneath him, he wanted more. He wanted to see how you would tremble when you were at your most sensitive, how your body would react when you were past the point of exhaustion. He loved the way you clenched around him after the fourth time, how you arched into him when he pressed you against the cold library wall, how your legs trembled, threatening to give out if not for his firm grip keeping you upright.

And when your body finally gave in, unable to hold itself up any longer, he caught you—lifting you effortlessly, pinning you between himself and the wall. He growled in satisfaction at the way you clung to him, at the soft whimper of his name on your lips. Your legs locked tightly around his waist as he drove into you, each thrust making you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders in desperate bliss.

He watched you—watched every expression, every shudder, every broken moan—as if committing you to memory. Because this, this was what he wanted. To feel you, to ruin you, to study you.

His pace slowed, his thrusts growing deep and deliberate as his forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven. The hunger between you had been insatiable, his hands never leaving your body, his lips never far from your skin—but now, as he looked at you, truly looked at you, something shifted.

His grip softened, fingers ghosting over your waist, tracing the way your body curved against him. He groaned, his voice rougher now, a new feeling started to blossom in his chest as he watched you as your eyelids flittered to a close, your breath hot on his face.

“Look at me,” he murmured gentler than before.

Your dazed eyes met his, and that was it. His restraint snapped, his body pressing flush against yours as he came, his breath catching as he spilled into you, arms locking you in place like he needed to hold on or risk falling apart.

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of your heavy breaths, your foreheads still pressed together. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, the warmth of his skin against yours. And then, slowly, his lips found your temple, lingering there as if memorizing the moment.

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath. “Your Highness?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing over your lips before shaking his head.

“Hush,” he said. “Just stay.”

And for the first time, it wasn’t an order.

❥ divider by @bunnysrph

© cyberyam

[robinsofafeatherfalltogether]

I think a lot of people, either seriously or jokingly, in the "this bat should be batman, not Terry next" debate dont get that thats the entire point of Terry Mcginnis. In other cases, they're right, he wouldn't be Batman becuase hes from a universe that everyething went wrong. Bruce is old bitter and sucesfully pushed everone away or those he cared about died, or dont exist here, Gotham crumbles around him and hes crumbling too! Do you think in any other universe the Manor and Cave would be so under protected a random teen walks in and walks out with an entire Batsuit?

In a world when there ARE the others, they dont or wont let B4uce push them away, theres friends and allies to spare and pick up the slack, Batman as a mantal is firmly squared away and a good number of villians are either retired, reformed, or dead. Even if Terry did come to exist, a rebellious kid lashing out would of never been able to make it near the manor, let alone a batcave full of Vigilantes to steal a suit.

And thats why is facinating! Becuase Terry, and Terry as Batman, is the sum of a failing Gotham, a failing Baman, with a sliver of hope left that ended up rising instead of falling. Plus hes an utterly diffrent type of batman and fills the role in a diffrent way then Bruce did. He had Legacy of course but lacked the personal connection to feel like he was filling very specifc shoes like Dick was, and lets be honest Terry would never be anything BUT his own version of batman.

I'm sure you can find a way to make a version of Batman Beyond Terry in a universe where the extended batman DOES exist but id love for how event shaped up for him to even become batman and how that effects him as batman to be explored more. Specially in stories where he travles dimensions and meet this new Batman for it to be less funny/annoying this "random" kid is batman when they learn why hes Batman.

[cailleachcola]

bill cipher being utterly facinated by the concept of tattoos and piercings.

"you PAY to have someone stab you! to make you look pretty? facinating 🤩"

[thetinygnome]

Despite being a comparatively "godless" campaign, C2 gave a look at Faith much more relateable to modern-day audiences.

More detail under the cut

Caduceus

Caduceus's version of religion is facinating because he experiences what many would perhaps call the religious ideal. His god is real, good and benevolent. His god is has tangible reasons behind not being omnipotent (opposing gods + divine gate). He can communicate directly with his god and be heard. It is not part of a heirachal organised religion.

As such, it is completely and utterly alien.

Jester

Jester is fascinating in her deeply personal relationship with her god: her comfort and best friend. The traveler is her God in a way he was no one else's. For the longest time, her friends didn't even think he was real. Which he wasn't, but that's okay.

I do like the way they handled her disillusionment, in that it did not mean total rejection of her entire worldview for the past few years, but rather the negotiation of more open and equal arrangement.

This perhaps is one of the best ways I've ever seen a modern religious storyline portrayed in a fantasy setting with real gods.

Yasha

Yasha's relationship with her god is an elusive lifeline. She does not, cannot understand him, and that's okay. There is a certain reverence and awe in Yasha's faith which was truly captivating. The stormlord was not there to solve her problems, he was there to guide her, forge anew and redeem from her the rubble of her life under oban.

[gailhai1storm]

may i have some peterachilles thoughts/headcanons/anything 🥺

The fact that I havent read all the books that have them as central characters makes. this a bit hard, like I have thoughts but its hard to speak on a lot of it.

So im going togive you my thoughts on both of them just in stream of consciousness cause that will probably work better.

Ok so Achilles is so fucking facinating to me, cause he is absolutely masterminding things and plotting but I get the distinct feeling that he actually does overestimate people

there is hubris there but he truly thinks people are also plotting against him and thinking the same way he is, while also understanding that he is better at it than them.

I find this fucking hillariouse to put againct Peter who first off knows that Achilles could fucking destroy him and probably is trying to and is smarter than him. But Peter also has this odd confidence in himself and what he is doing that I find so utterly fascinating. I actually know someone a lot like peter and just that deep knowledge that you are missing something pared with hubris is facinating.

Thats the main place (from what ive read) that I get the ship from. It makes the trust Peter has make more sense. He wants to give Achilles freedom, and shiney things, because he enjoys him. He trusts him, but at the same time he cant.

I always imagine both of them just so paranoid about the other, Achilles more than Peter, cause peter has confidence in a way Achilles doesn't. Achilles does not understand kindness, not really.

Its part of what makes there dinamic to intesting,

Achilles wouldnt understand the kindness a first, wouldn't understand that this is admeration not pitty or groveling

cause Peter does not view Achilles as greater than him, but his equal his match, they challenge each other.

I picture them in a spiral, thinking their thoughts, pulling and pushing but perpetually funneled together and into the same place around and around.

They are infatuated with each other, and it tastes like medium rare steak, their relationship, sweat, and full, but you can still just almost taste the blood.

They are vile and put each other through the ringer but at the end of the day they love the others mind, the others drive, and they end up needing each other.

because to loose your match is to loose yourself.

[k-s-morgan]

Your writing leaves me speechless every time. It is utterly gorgeous. The writing is so emotional, and I feel like the characterizations in ATLWETD are flawless, on a whole different level. I love the shades of posessiveness/obsessiveness we're getting to see of Tom, it makes me weak on the knees. And the fact that Harry isn't just some pushover, that he's got vibrant, brilliant character that's reckless, bold, a little idiotic, and just the thing a snake like Riddle would be facinated by. I admit I was a bit skeptical last chapter on Tom breaking someone's arm just to get Harry on the Quidditch team, because I was like how is he going to get away with that, but good lord, this chapter has enlightened me. He really does have the whole school wrapped around his finger. I love the scenes in this chapter, it might be my favorite so far...

Harry projecting his love of Quidditch to Tom. Their talk about cruelty. The conversation about family, which made my heart melt. The way Harry keeps bringing up Greengrass when he wants Tom to be disgusted will never fail to amuse me... The mood gift from Alphard, which I'm betting my soul will be used in later chapters... The moral greyness of Dumbledore... The last scene. Ugh, you do such cruel and beautiful things to my heart, giving me the happiness of reading another one of your chapters while also making me crave more... I swear, you must be magic yourself; your writing is that good.

I have a few questions though. I think it's mainly just me not having all the brain cells necessary to process this story, after losing my complete mind after this chapter... but still.

My first is about how Harry is choosing to stay with Tom at Wool's. In the pseudo alternate universe, Harry stayed with him at the orphanage too, so he "knows" the outcome of staying. Couldn't Harry then dissuade Tom's fears of dying, by saying they survived in the alternate universe?

My second is how Tom's referring to Harry in his mind. We all know Harry loves to think of Tom as "Riddle" - rather fitting lol. But is Tom opting for "Potter" or "Harry"? I cannot wait to read his perspective by the way, the way you write Tom in WHGTB is amazing. His elusiveness so far is killing me!

Third is about how genuine their fight about the Potters was. Was it a ruse to get Harry pissed enough to summon fire, or did Tom actually consciously or subconsciously think that?

Fourth. You mentioned for WHGTB, another masterpiece of course, that Tom wouldn't have been obsessed with Harry if it wasn't mutual. That he's an all-or-nothing kind of person. Is this Tom similar? I know he is much crueler, colder, etc., but this basic principle is similar, right?

Sorry for the lengthy ask and the fangirling. It's just that I've been obsessing over chapter 4 for over 24 hours, and I've been thinking about it constantly. I can't even describe how much your fics mean to me. When things are going wrong in real life, I always find solace and comfort in them. I'm even going to watch Black Butler soon, just because I want to read your fic.

I'm sorry for the pain the war has brought to you and your country. I hope you stay safe through it all, and know that I'm always thinking about you, hoping you are okay.

Ah, thank you so much for your brilliant comment, it made me so happy! I'm really glad you enjoyed this chapter. Harry and Tom refused to let me finish it when I planned to, so it went on and on))

I'm glad you're enjoying both Tom and Harry. They have such different personalities, but they really click. I think Tom said more words to Harry in these months they know each other than he ever said to his followers. 

How cults work never ceases to amaze me. I read so much about different religious cults where the leader was doing absolutely horrible things, from rape to torture to mutilations and murders, and yet the majority remained devoted him. Hell, I have a very sick neighbour called Russia where millions support one genocide after another while hundreds of thousands actively kill, destroy, and torture innocent people. These beings have no goal, no reason, they just do what their so-called leader orders even though it means becoming a monster and risking their own life and safety for nothing. 

Tom Riddle makes for a much more charismatic and inspiring leader, so I think it's realistic that he managed to wrap the other Slytherins around his finger so completely. Apart from being an actual fighter, he has much to offer in terms of power, influence, and recognition. 

I think Harry is a little jealous of Greengrass without fully understanding why and in what way. There is no doubt that Tom favors him much more, but Greengrass is his right hand, a person he'd trust in a battle, the one he'd immediately rely on, and Harry is already feeling the first stirrings of irritation and possessiveness. 

Yeah, Alphard's mood artifact is going to come in handy! Needless to say, Tom is going to be very confused by the frantic change of emotions Harry gets around him :D 

About your questions, sure!

For question 1: in Harry's story, he and fake!Tom just about finished their fifth year when Tom went insane, started sowing chaos, and they got hunted down by Dumbledore and his people. That's when Harry made his journey through 'universes.' So he has no idea what happens after their sixth year and if Tom survives it because it never took place. Naturally, in reality, Harry knows that Tom makes it, but he cannot say he's from the future, so he has to stay silent. Besides, he knows that his presence is changing things, so after they arrive to the Wool's, he himself will be unsure if everything is going to be fine.

Question 2: I think Tom is conflicted about how to refer to Harry, so he settled on "Him." His mind instantly knows who he's talking about because Harry has taken a permanent place in his mind. So it's, "I wonder what he is doing, "How powerful can he get with the right initiative," and so on. 

I hope you enjoy his POV when it comes :D We'll be stuck in Tom's head for the entire second half of the story.

Question 3: the fight was entirely genuine. Tom saw an opportunity when he saw how enraged Harry got, so he had him conjure fire, but before this, it never crossed his mind, he was too jealous and angry. 

Question 4: You know, it's a really good question! I think this Tom is different from WHGTB Tom in this regard. In WHGTB, Tom began to respond to the fact that Harry loves him. In ATLWETD, Tom is responding to the idea that in some other world, he himself loved Harry. He finds it fascinating because he cannot imagine loving anyone; at the same time, he takes it for granted that people like him and want to do things for him. So mutuality is not as important as long as he has feelings. When he learns that Harry lied to him, and if, for example, Harry didn't end up loving him at all, he wouldn't stop. He'd find a way to bind them together anyway, even if it meant enslaving Harry's mind, altering his memories, etc. It's very likely that Tom would have done anything to mold Harry into the person he was pretending to be, someone who loved him, shared a past with him, and cared nothing about the timeline. 

Ooh, if you end up watching Black Butler, I hope you enjoy it! I'm so addicted to this universe, I think it is forever. 

Thank you for your words, for your review and questions. I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter, although it won't come for a while! 

[stalwart-spirit]

🎄 Favorite holiday?

Moonfire Faire! Heavensturn is a close second for feel good reasons (getting to celebrate making it through another year), however the origins of Moonfire Faire is utterly facinating to Saeed seeing how it's celebrated now, but it's overall a wonderful holiday to take part in with the family and a great way to unwind.

Honestly he's surprised at his stubbornness regarding trying to climb the Nimble Warrior tower each year, and honestly now just uses it as a way to show that he's still quick and agile!

[brbgensokyo]

i know like beautiful dreamer is like well recognized as a prototype for alot of mamuro oshii's output but i wasnt expecting draft cuts for fucking patlabor 2

[pixelateddork]

i approach your day with flowers and chocolates in my hands. when you open it, i get down on one knee, hold them out, and manage to squeek out

"please do you have ideas on how granpa and iii would meet in your timetravel au i just saw the post and i'm so normal about it please how would each person react how would arsene respond to modern day how would iii cope with not recognizing him you have beautiful eyes i swear i'm so normal about the time travel au:

FGDShfGHDSGF Hi!! I'm so glad you liked my silly lil concept!!! I know I haven't talked about it much, so this feels like a good opportunity to talk about it again! I'm gonna assume by each person you meant the gang(if not I am sorry XD) so! Let's do a quick bullet point list! Gonna put all this rambling under a read more!

Lupin: Completely and utterly baffled by the situation. His grandpa has been dead for many years at that point, and now his grandpa was right in front of him as a young man. It's weird for him, meeting what feels like an entirely new person. He really understands what his grandpa has meant when he'd tell Lupin "You remind me so much of myself when I was young", because god damn he was not kidding. Any feeling of grief or sadness however are all pushed to the back of his mind as he helps try to figure out a way to fix this rip in time. Jigen: He was the first one to encounter Arsene, mistaking the man for Lupin at first. He's got mixed feelings on the situation. he finds it kinda odd that Lupin's grandpa at 31 years old is just...living with them for the time being, and finds it kinda werid how similar the two are....But also man is it entertaining to watch Lupin to deal with someone just as smug and obnoxious(Jigen means this with love) as he is. Goemon: At first, he did not trust the guy. Convinced that it was some trick(athough this was the assumption most of the gang had at first). Once it was revealed that Arsene was indeed Lupin's grandfather from the past, he makes sure to treat him with respect, as he is techincally still Lupin's elder.

Fujiko: Probably was convinced this was a weird joke when Lupin called her to let her know, and she walks into the hideout with Lupin from her knowledge another Lupin but blonde was sitting on the couch next to him. She finds him charming, athough shares Jigen's feelings on how it's strange how similar the two really are. --- As for Arsene reacting to the modern day...well this all started with Jigen stopping the guy from getting hit by a car so...let's say his transition is a lil rough, to say the least. He'd definitely be facinated by all the modern things surrounding him though, without a doubt. He'd have some difficulty adjusting at first, but he's a smart man! He'll get the hang of it! That's all I'll say here for now though! This post is already getting kinda long! Hope I answer you questions alright! If you have anymore I'd be happy to ramble about my silly idea again!

[iturbide]

same anon as the not exaggerated joke but not joke about robbing plegia. God I love awakening, I really love chrom and robin and all that. But I am also facinated by Gangrel and Validar (and to a lesser extent Henry and Tharja (and also Mustafa and to an even lesser extent the various plegian officers you fight) Like there could have easily been an interesting exploration of any of those characters. Gangrel's a much less subtle example of how an ATTEMPTED GENOCIDE affected him. He went mad and is lashing out at those who both caused and did not take accountability. Like there's a lot there to unpack and look at, especially when you consider his general dismissal of the grimleal cult. Validar is one I really wish we saw more of (Validad wishful thinking in my brain). He was likely a part of the grimleal since before the war, being a failed vessel; how did he view the genocide, was he moved by what happened to other plegians, did that give him conviction, did he care at all? Did he see grima, or his own child as a means of retribution or even as a saviour for his people. There is so much that could have been done there. Also maybe Tharja and Henry should have more to say about their country being brutalised in 3 whole wars. Also also, please just acknowledge Mustafa he was so fucking cool and deserved a larger role in the story, I'd love them as a continuous antagonist/anti-hero who RIGHTLY points out the hypocricy of the ylisseans while still showing himself to be an empathetic and just leader. Fuck it make him in charge, put him on a council with Validar. Can you imagine the political debates between those two?

Anyway I'm gonna start reading Affectionately Yours to stimulate the part of my brain that awakening didn't

Look, I am deeply and utterly fascinated by Plegia. I have been for a long time. Roughly half my Awakening works on AO3 hinge on some extensive Plegian worldbuilding because Awakening really didn't bother with it and I'm too fascinated to leave it alone.

I have a lot of thoughts about Gangrel. I have a lot of thoughts about Validar. I have a lot of thoughts about who they could have been in different situations, and why they turned out the way they did. I honestly think that Gangrel could have been handled better in Awakening canon: I think his mother was killed by bandits when he was young according to canon? But imagine how much more potent his role in the story becomes if he lost his mother in the attempted genocide -- he was a direct victim, and that unaddressed trauma festered and turned him into the Mad King. (I have a whole post of backstory headcanons about that.) And I think that Validar is underexplored as a character, especially considering that he outright admits he's a failed attempt at creating a vessel for Grima, and what something like that would do to a person. (I have yet another post of backstory headcanons for him.)

Henry...Henry not really having something to say doesn't surprise me. Henry was a victim of basically every system he'd ever been part of. He doesn't have a stake in society, but he's culturally Plegian because it's how he was generally brought up. Tharja, though -- she I think should have things to say about the situation, because even if she does adopt a measure of disinterest in the general situation, that's her home. She's lived through these nightmares and been a witness to their aftermath. The fact that her being Plegian and how that's affected her was entirely squandered is an absolute crime.

and don't get me started on Mustafa. I love Mustafa so much. Mustafa gets a role in basically all my fics, I love him so much. He's in Affectionately Yours. He's in Cursed Fate. He's in both Crown of Shadows and Shrouded Throne. He's in my works in progress, he's in my backburner stories, he's everywhere. I absolutely adore General Mustafa and what he says about Plegia as a country, even though the game tries to pretend that people like him don't exist as soon as we finish out Chapter 11.

I have a lot of Plegia thoughts okay. And a lot of Plegia stories.

also please let me know if you have any issues getting into the fics, I locked them as a precaution against AI data scraping but I am 100% willing to unlock them if you want to read but don't have an account

[sageospirit]

She circles around the mechanism, closely observing from every angle. Trained eyes dart all over while a hand rests under her chin, expression tense and deep in thought. While Mineru considered herself to be well versed in various forms of technology and magic, this, however, was utterly new and facinating. Never had she witnessed such a thing, and the Zonai were no stranger to complex, odd and specific creations, but a statis chamber, to specifically hold someone alive...?

The jade coloring was familiar, the dull green glow a comforting light―but it had only raised more questions than answers for her liking. Who had even created such a contraption? Was it even made by her people? It must have been, but if so, it must have been a well-kept secret, one lost to time, until now.

“I―How interesting...” She utters, mostly to herself, too focused to notice to any guests that may have walked in on her examination. “Was Rauru aware of such a thing...?”

@herospledge / ♥

[luxlightly]

Hi! I just came across you 'We Go There' fic and just wanted to pop in to say how much I love the descriptions that you use of how Eddie and The Other interact. The unraveling bit is utterly inspired and a invites a facinating mental image, and the body horror aspects to it are wonderfully done.

I didn't even see this in my inbox. I have no idea how long ago this was sent but thank you!

I love the idea of a character being able to unwravel into a big heap of tentacles. Untwisting like a rope. It's a power I've given to multiple ocs over the years.

I love the Other and exploring body horror through the lens of a creature that has no sense of body. Especially juxtaposed to Eddie, who is "human" and has a very strict idea of what his body should be. For the Other, emotion is a form of body horror. The fundamental change to the way it exists and process information is horrifying to it the same way the charges in his body are horrifying to Eddie, but neither has enough concept of each other's experiences to do anything but be at odds about it.

I miss that story. I miss all my stories, of course, but I hold a special place in my heart for that one.

[doctorizzykleiner]

I lied about that last thing being my last post; the implications that Gordon WASN'T in stasis for those 20 years is absolutely insane to me. Like what happened to him then? Where did he go??? Did Gman just send him on vacation?? I am utterly facinated by the implications, and I will be awaiting desperately to know where my dear Gordon was for those 20 years.

[crimson-phantom-designs]

Oh dear... snippet from chapter 15 being refined

What was a filler placeholder ended up almost an 11k chapter with a character barely present being more a central character- apparently a problematic one.

Now I really want to draw this man.

~~~~~

Francis shot a cunning smile. "Are you now interested in hearing more about your scent chemistry you steered so abruptly off before?"

Sterling's intent focus looked away quickly from that stare as he cleared his throat softly, the hint of flush was now crimson. "Look... that startled me, alright?" He leaned back in the chair with a baiting tone, shifting sideways but his posture relaxing. Touching his lip with two fingers in deep thought, he looked back curling a small smile. "That depends... It also seems very personal..." His eyes flickered slightly. "I would much like to hear about it possibly... over a private drink?..." His small smile grew to a grin. "All of it actually... It sounds utterly facinating..."

"Mm. All of it?" Francis whistled low though a smooth-tongued grin as he pressed deeper. "My my, I believe that would take all night."

"Oh? Is it that much information? Sounds delightful..." Sterling's warm cadence went softly velvet, his eyes gleamed with a knowing, sly smile. He knit his fingers together artfully to slide forward on his forearms, half tilting his head to smile up at him. "I really don't think I would mind, I much like hearing you talk about it..."

Now that was clearly an inviting signal, it didn't take a refined sensory palate to notice that. It was tempting as lascivious as his thoughts had been lately but Francis remained focused and applied his own sportful tactics back. Still a little vindictive at how his first consideration was rejected by baited undecisiveness, neither was he fond of someone being so wretchedly forward now. It took the fun out of the build up. No persuit, no slow burn... not that this one would have taken much effort to turn over in his bed to begin with...

~~~~~

Francis, you just got one more day- keep it in your pants...

Fact is, Francis is really bad about leading people on to then drop them like a lead balloon to be entertained by their upset. Luckily for this guy he did that because it wouldn't have been pleasant as he might think. It literally was just an idea for tension relief. Lots of it.