#Affinity

[peonyb]

I finally followed your Tumblt after replaying the demo like...ten times.

Gotta say, Welling is very sweet...but their personality combined with my MCs' (light affinity and HEAVILY self-sacrificing/self-deprecating) gives me the vibe that their relationship is going to get very messy/codependent before it gets better

Also: is there a way to get the Prodigy mark? I think i remember seeing that the potion could change the MC's affinity but i was wondering if there was any other way to unlock that last option in the power choice

Oh! Hi and welcome, then ♡!

Welling knows that healing is such a core part of who a light MC is that they bite their tongue despite the turmoil it causes in them. But if your MC is particularly self-sacrificing—to the point of serious risk—then there will be some difficult conversations in your future.

For the last option, it’s the destiny choice which unlocks the elemental affinities! Prodigy is the only mark that’s unplayable, but you can unlock the destiny option if you either purchase a potion from the market or steal it (this outcome is a randomized chance).

[svnsetromance]

Sarah Waters' Victorian trilogy + mini-series @lgbtqcreators — creator bingo / adaptations

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Affinity 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Prince!Loki (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you are sent to attend the royal wardrobe on an important diplomatic journey but find more to worry for than split seams.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Is it better, your highness?" You ask as you try to tug on the taut fabric over the king's stomach. He growls as his belly strains the fabric. "I added a panel."

"Hmph," he glances at the woman sitting patiently and quietly on a stool in the corner of the tent. It isn't hard to guess who she is. Everyone knows the king's lascivious reputation and you've seen her with him throughout the first week of the journey. "I did not realise..." he tugs at the tails of the tunic. "Sitting a horse has made things more obvious."

"I can add another, your highness?" You suggest.

"Oh, lady, we've enough to worry for on this trek than the king's belly. I will persevere through pinching of my seams," he king chortles. "I am certain you are eager to rest."

"Your highness, it is never a task."

"Hm, yes, mother always prefers you. Simple to know why," he remarks. "Go, if I must ride with my guts out, so be it."

You give a bow and obey. You take your wooden chest with you, hooking the strap on your shoulder, and set off to find a place to sleep. You've been nestling into the wagons with the other castle servants. Your work with a needle does not save you the low regard of commonry.

"How fares my brother?" The prince startles you. He is always watching.

"He seems of better spirits, your grace. I see he has been riding. He was only seeking to have his riding clothes seen to," you explain.

"Ah, yes," Prince Loki tuts. "I witnessed it too. The way he tests a horse's back."

You do not comment. The king is a big man naturally. His middle might be thicker than once it was but he is not your concern or your place to judge. The prince judges all.

"Did you require anything, your grace?" You wonder.

He huffs. "Must I require your needle to have a conversation with a castle seamstress?"

"I only meant, your grace, to assist. As is my duty."

"I know your duty. As I know every person's duty within this camp." He struts on beside you. "Do you think my brother knows? It is I who makes certain we are not stuck in the mud. That we follow the mop not the king's fancy."

"Yes, my grace."

"And what do you know but how to make a stitch?" He scoffs.

You're silent. The prince is a man of moods. You've witnessed it many time as he burst in to rant at his mother. Without her there to temper him, he is particularly venomous.

There's a lull between you. His boots kick pebbles across the ground as you wonder why he's not tramped away to his tent. He sighs.

"Does the ride wear you down?" He asks suddenly. At that, you could flinch. The shift in his tone, in his words, is like a pendulum.

"As it wears us all down, your grace. The storm particularly."

"Ah, yes, it soaked me through," he sneers.

"I've made certain the royal luggage was untouched by the rain," you assure him. "And the piece you requested is nearly done, though the cart does not make for easy sewing."

"Hm, yes. The Wakandan sun will have us melting in your Asgardian layer. My brother is a fool, he will be sweating like a river," he snickers. "I am too clever for that. He has never thought ahead. He never had to. He has others to do his thinking for him."

Again, you are quiet. You learned from the dowager, Frigga, to let her sons speak more than you do. Let them be out with their discontent and a few words often consoles. As a servant, is it best you listen and speak only of your duty.

"He tires me more than this trek." The prince derides. "Wine. Bring it to my tent."

With that, he turns sharply and marches away. You watch him as soldiers gesture to him in deference. You bite your cheek. Likely, he sends you on a task meant for another to make his point. He is still the prince and you are still but a servant in his family's employ.

You set off. You ask a few skullery maids where you can find a bottle or cask. You retrieve a dark bottle and retrace your steps.

You approach the prince's tent. You clear your throat as thoughts of sleep drift into the deepening eve. "My prince, your wine."

"Come." He calls from within.

You enter and nearly stumble back through the draped canvas. The prince is in his undershirt and breeches, his tunic cast aside. He tugs at a tangle in his hair.

"I need a looking glass," he mutters. You put the bottle near him. His green eyes flick to it. "A cup?"

"I will find one," you affirm.

"Never bother," he waves his fingers dismissively. "I've need of your eyes."

"My... eyes?"

"Mmhmm, argh," he tosses back the tangle in frustration and sits up. "My brother. He has that woman with him."

"I believe I saw a woman."

He snorts, "no need to be covert. I could ask any guard. Besides, I am his brother. I needs know so that when we arrive, the king does not put us to shame before the three others convened. He thinks this will be fun. That he will drink and be merry. This is a matter of politick."

"Yes, your grace, the woman was there," you repeat.

"And?"

"She was sitting in the corner, prince."

"Undressed?" He wonders.

"Clothed," you assure him. "The king was more concerned with his tunic."

"Hmm," he exhales, disappointment in his breath. "I cannot figure... he has chosen to ride again. Do you know what effort I put forth to have that litter arranged? My brother is demanding, as any king may be, but he is particularly churlish."

You are quiet again. He snatches the wine bottle and uncorks it. He swigs and swishes it before swallowing.

"Vinegar," he snarls.

"My grace, apologies, I was told it was--"

"It's wine. Only not very good." He sniffs. "If you hear or see any more of this woman, you will let me know."

"As you wish."

"Yes, it is certainly as I wish," he huffs. "Go."

You bow, "your grace." You back out of the tent and let the canvas fall into place. You look up at the sky. Why did the queen mother send you along?

[divorced-beheaded-died]

Realising I've never posted any of my made up in-universe League of Gentlemen posters on here!!

[79zz]

The Penguin

"They wouldn't put me on a pedestal, so I laid them out on a slab."

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Photographer unknown

+

“They recognised each other like italics.” ― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

[elegantsaltedpeanut]

Protocores for AS Companion

a lot of you guys asked me, so here are the cores i'm using :3

please feel free to ask if you have any questions. i love chatting heheh

[vavi-blur21]

Weeeeellll... Like I don't know what it is, but I kinda like this thing, so... :)

And yeah, there are two different versions of this pairing, like Affinity AU version RenaWill, and my version AU (Stranger things) RenaVince...

Honestly, I really do think the way I draw them is a bit different from the canon Affinity AU, so I guess you can call it a crossover or something like that... )))

Anyways, they are good in any version:3

💖I love them all💖

[cataytotto]

can you draw more Affinity characters?

I've wanted to draw them for a while :3

[gawrkin]

Affinity and Mordred

(Source: CatholicTheology.info) (LINK)

(Source: Wikipedia)

In light of the information above, it would appear that there's no situation where Mordred's push to marry Guinevere would've had Church approval, unless through strong dispensation somehow.

Christian Canon Law, patterning itself on Roman Law, had stringent laws against Incest and Incest-by-Affinity, up to four degrees. It's to the point where (prior to 1215) a widow/widower's previous in-laws would be considered related by affinity to the widow/widower's new in-laws if he/she remarries.

If we ignore for a moment that the Arthurian Romance Tradition makes Mordred a bastard of Arthur (which makes them much closer relationship-wise), Sir Mordred is generally known in-story as Arthur's nephew. This makes him related to Guinevere in the second degree, thus marriage between them should be prohibited under Church Law.

This means, in any and all versions, Mordred's push to marry Guinevere should be invalid, especially in Romance versions where Guinevere is shown to be unwilling to wed Mordred.

It's hard to imagine the bishops granting dispensation based on a purported letter from the deceased king claiming that his nephew should marry his wife, on the justification that it would deny his former-ally-turned-enemy (Lancelot) from seizing her.

This is also kinda highlights the perversity of Geoffrey of Monmouth's version of Guinevere, who is implied to willingly marry Mordred. Geoffrey's Guinevere is stated to be of Roman lineage and was raised in the household of Duke Cador (who also stated to be Roman). From Geoffrey!Gwen's cultural pov, she's doing something that's absolutely taboo in both religious and civil terms.

[peonyb]

I'm sure it was asked before but I couldn't find any info so here we go: why did you choose Force instead of a more classical option like Earth? I mean, I ain't complaining because Force is cool af but I'm also a sucker for Earth/Botanical Nature-based powers (Poison Ivy and Toph were my childhood crushes, cough) so I'm curious. :O

Hello! I think it was! Maybe around the start of the blog.

You know what’s so weird?? I had one lol. Originally it was like.. spirit or spiritual or something and it was legitimately a mix of poison ivy/toph! It had the ability to use nature and manipulate rock. It was in the demo at first, too.

I think what made me change it is Brakkus. The magic comes from him and since he’s the God of balance, everything should have a counterpart (Fire-water, light-dark). The spirit(ual) affinity didn’t work very well, at least to me, with air. But I still wanted a hearty, tough-ish affinity which eventually led me to force which I see as gravity. I would have liked to do a nature one! I thought it was awesome, but the more I thought about it the less it made sense 😭

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Historical Fiction Book Bracket: Round 1B

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

Affinity by Sarah Waters

Endorsement from submitter: "When the twist came my jaw was on the floor."

An upper-class woman recovering from a suicide attempt, Margaret Prior has begun visiting the women’s ward of Millbank prison, Victorian London’s grimmest jail, as part of her rehabilitative charity work. Amongst Millbank’s murderers and common thieves, Margaret finds herself increasingly fascinated by an apparently innocent inmate, the enigmatic spiritualist Selina Dawes. Selina was imprisoned after a séance she was conducting went horribly awry, leaving an elderly matron dead and a young woman deeply disturbed. Although initially skeptical of Selina’s gifts, Margaret is soon drawn into a twilight world of ghosts and shadows, unruly spirits and unseemly passions, until she is at last driven to concoct a desperate plot to secure Selina’s freedom, and her own.

Setting: Victorian England

Historical fiction, mystery, gothic, Victorian, adult

Wingmen by Ensan Case

Endorsement from submitter: "One of the first historical queer fictions to ever be openly published (1979), tells a tale of two pilots from WW2, who feel more than friendship between them. Lot of tension, action, and truthful look on how queer men operated during world wars and in the army."

First published in 1979 by Avon books, this World War II novel, with overtones of From Here to Eternity, was a precursor to the gay romance genre. Jack Hardigan's Hellcat fighter squadron blew the Japanese Zekes out of the blazing Pacific skies. But a more subtle kind of hell was brewing in his feelings for rookie pilot Fred Trusteau. While a beautiful widow pursues Jack, and another pilot becomes suspicious of Jack and Fred's close friendship, the two heroes cut a fiery swath through the skies from Wake Island to Tarawa to Truk, there to keep a fateful rendezvous with love and death in the blood-clouded waters of the Pacific.

Setting: 1940s / World War II and later

Historical fiction, WWII, 1940s, war novel, adult

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Affinity 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Prince!Loki (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you are sent to attend the royal wardrobe on an important diplomatic journey but find more to worry for than split seams.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“She needs better than this,” the king has his hands on the quiet woman’s shoulders. “She is a kind woman and grows more tattered by the day.” 

You nod as the woman’s eyes cling to yours before falling modestly to the ground. The way the king moves her to his will makes you uneasy. You know she can only let him. Many a woman would be eager to meet his whim, yet there is something about her that is meek and reluctant. 

“Might I?” You ask as you gesture to her sleeve. 

“As you will,” she permits. 

You gently touch the fraying linen. She doesn’t look up. As you silently check the seams and take mental note of her measurements, there is an air of recognition. Two servants bound in service to the royal Asgardians. You will do as bid. Nothing less, nothing more. 

“Do we have a preference of colour, your highness?” You address the king with a bow of your head. “I’ve a lovely pink so deep it looks red. I lined some of your mother’s cloaks with it but I’ve enough scraps on hand to craft something. Or the sapphire silk you so admired but had not put mind to the cut--” 

“Enough for both of us? To match?” He asks eagerly. “Erm, oh... but I think of our arrival, see? I am of mind of myself and those awaiting us. What should they think, yes? Me, once the golden prince, now a tarnished king.” He turns to pet the woman’s head, as if seeking comfort. 

“I could do, your highness. Before our arrival. And for now, something simpler? For the road? I could find a spare gown and make some alteration.” 

“Very well,” he flutters his fingers then drops his hand to his belt. “Ah, speaking of, my lady seamstress,” he slaps his belly. “Be certain to take some length off my new coat. Riding has sloughed off some. Mine companion did say so.” 

He once more pets her. She smiles softly and remains demure. 

“I will keep it to mind, your highness.” 

“In your I trust,” he grins and turns to his lady companion. “What say I show you again how to play whist? You almost did claim my crown, sweet one.” 

You take your dismissal in stride. It is easy to make yourself unseen. Safer too. 

As you emerge from the tent, your subtlety is short-lived. The prince whistles at you as he strides past several men in dusty livery. You greet him with a bend of your knees and neck. 

“Your grace.” 

“And how fares our might liege?” He asks dryly. He blinks, the flick of his long lashes drawing attention to the strain in his cheeks. You note the lines around his eyes, and tautness of his features.  

“The king is well. Content.” 

“Oh yes? I’m certain that woman of his assists in that.” 

“I wouldn’t know, your grace.” 

“Yes, and what do you know?” He gestures as he turns and falls back into stride. You follow. 

“The king has shed weight. Some. Now he is riding. He has requested some garments for the woman.” 

“For that woman? For what purpose?” 

“Your grace, she is in rags. The road has worn on us all.” 

“Certainly...” he pauses and swallows a yawn, “it does.” 

“Your grace. Apologies but I have nothing else to disclose. I only keep to my duty--” 

“Yes, you make your purpose tedious,” he reproaches. “I hear tell of a boar. You will bring me my supper.” 

You bow again. “Your grace.” 

You turn to set off but he is quick. He catches your arm. You are shocked at his touch, the strength in his grip. 

“I seek more than a plate holder. Open your ears and your eyes.” He girds. 

“Yes, your grace,” you utter. 

He lets you go. He departs and you turn slowly around to take in the breadth of the traveling party. You can smell the boar. 

You follow your nose and the babble of the hunt’s game. Squirrels for some, rabbits, and some other critters. You approach knights with deference as they stand around the spit. 

“Sirs,” you draw the attention of the king’s acquaintance, Fandral, “I’ve been sent by the prince to fetch his supper.” 

The blond man scoffs. “We’ve no snake to skewer for him.” 

There is a chuckle of amusement. You keep your head down. You push your hands behind them and knot your fingers. You do not argue above your station. 

“Eh,” Volstagg, a larger man nears, “that would only rain down upon this poor creature.” He holds out a plate with a generous helping of boar and a thick hunk of rye. “That serpent would sink his fangs into a mouse. Not us.” 

“Pity you,” Fandral waves you off. The burlier man hands you the plate. 

“Go. You have my condolences.” You flinch as you take the plate. He guffaws. “Aye, serving the prince must be the most burdensome chore in the realm. Be off now before hungry eyes wander.” 

You take the plate and do your best to shield it as you scurry off. You find the prince with his horse. He has no tent that night. Only his roll. As the days grow longer and hotter, expediency overrides comfort. He sits on his pack. 

“Your grace,” you offer the plate. 

“Wine? Ale?” He does not thank you. “Something after the dust of the road.” 

You plunge into the next hunt. A bottle in woven webbing is found. You return and the prince chews on gristle. 

“Sit,” he bids. 

You lower yourself to your knees in the dirt. He eats, balancing his plate as he pulls free the cork and gulps. He offers the bottle to you. 

“Your grace?” You murmur. 

“Drink. It helps with sleep.” He insists. 

You accept the bottle, “thank you, your grace.” 

He grumbles and shakes his head. The dark circles under his eyes are shadowed by the setting sun. He sniffs and grips the side of his plate as you take a sip. 

“I am not so hungry as worn,” he slides the plate forward and bends to set it before your skirt. “Eat. I will rest. Be sure to keep your eyes open.” 

He stands as he wipes his fingers on his kerchief tucked under his belt. He stretches before he lowers himself onto his roll. His lanky figure is nearly too long.  

You look at the plate then him. Is this your wage for keeping watch? You will not be sleeping in a cart that night but you will not complain for a full belly. 

[steamberrystudio]

Sorry if this has been answered already, but I was wondering if the heart/approval score was just for romance, or does it count for friendship too? Like, if I have no points with one of the characters, do they hate me? Thank you and loving the new chapters!

The heart score isn't really approval or friendship or even love. It's a lot more about compatibility for the first five chapters.

Overall you can view it as a marker of how compatible the choices you make are with a particular LI's world view. This doesn't mean you have to pick exactly what an LI likes per se. I view compatibility as a combination of traits that are similar and complimentary.

Characters don't always want pure agreement - sometimes they want to be challenged or teased as well.

The indicators and status bars are just a look at whether you've made choices that a particular character vibes with - not so much a look at whether the characters like the MC.

You can technically get your score down in the negative numbers. I was just saying to someone earlier that you can get it as low as -13 based on my testing. But no one ever *hates* you. It just means you're really not romantically compatible with that character in that play through.

They'll still like you and get along with you, though!

[79zz]

Spheal

The Spheal of happiness blesses you on this day. Have a happy one.