#I was the portrait of the dead reli

[prince-kallisto]

Crowley’s Magical Aura in NRC

I’ve been rewatching Book 7 to refresh myself for theories, and something most intriguing caught my eye. When Meleanor is killed by the Knight of Dawn, Lilia and Baul automatically realize she’s dead because her magical power has disappeared. In this scene, they are all the way at Maleficia’s Black Scale Castle.

Now, I don’t have a good map of there distance between Wild Rose and Black Scale Castle, but that is a generous distance for magic power, isn’t it? Silver has to climb up an entire mountain, and yet Lilia and Baul could sense Meleanor’s magic from all the way from there (likely to due her storm). Perhaps sensing this magic is unique to Fae, or just powerful mages in general, but… then it made me think of Crowley.

Throughout the entire main game, there is very little mention of Crowley’s magical ability. Only small hints in the manga are shown, like him summoning a barrier to protect the students during Riddle’s Overblot. It’s only recently from Crowley’s SSR card and the Magic Assault Practice Event that we find out that he’s very, very powerful- and hasn’t shown a mere fraction of his ability yet. But again, no one comments on his magical aura/power.

In Crowley’s vignette, he gets mocked by some students saying that they’ve never seen him use magic and think him to be weak- someone they don’t have to be scared of. But Crowley’s Whip of Love binds all three of them, and their magic is useless against his whip. And to Crowley, this level of magic is “easier than breathing” (similar to a comment Malleus says). But yet again, his magic has never been commented on before- not even by the Lilia or Malleus who are fellow Fae (if sensing a Fae’s magical aura is only exclusive to Fae). Credit to Otome Ayui for translations 💖🐦‍⬛

But…then I started thinking: What if that isn’t the case at all? What if Crowley’s magical aura is SO powerful, that it covers the entirety of NRC?

In the Terror is Trending Halloween event, Lilia and the ghosts explain that seeing ghosts in Twisted Wonderland is extremely rare because they can only be seen by others in very specific conditions. It’s to the point that Lilia describes their forms being very unstable in the corporeal realm. However, NRC is one of the very few places IN THE WORLD where ghosts have completely stable forms. Why, it’s to the point that a majority of the school staff are ghosts, like the kitchen staff!

But it is then explained that NRC is “magically suffused,” the land practically bathed in magic. I was so curious about the choice for the word “suffuse” that I got out the dictionaries and even checked two fan translations! 🤣 But “suffuse” implies the magic is spread out/over the land, and Ekala translated it to being unusually high concentrations of magic. It’s even better that it’s Lilia of all characters saying this, as I feel he’d have a better knowledge of these things.

So…I am beginning to think that like Meleanor, Crowley’s magical power can be detected from far away. But his magic and NRC’s magic has become practically indistinguishable. He has essentially “suffused” everything inside NRC with magic, to the point that ghosts are perfectly stable, which means Crowley could hire ghosts all he wants. In the manga, Crowley even has the ability to call/summon the ghosts. And if HIS magic is what’s helping them stay in the corporeal realm at NRC, it makes so much sense if he can “summon” them because they’re already relying on his magic!

This is from an older theory of mine, and I am aware that at the time (and probably still is LMAO) it was considered a crack theory/joke. But I’m still holding on to the concept that the coffins/gates in NRC are floating because of Crowley’s magic, where also in the Halloween event it was mentioned that only the entirety of the Diasomnia dorm could keep their Halloween decorations floating because of their strong magical power. I’m also beginning to think that the portraits and even sketches of people can move/talk because of the sheer magical power in NRC, but that’s something to elaborate on later.

I’d additionally like to tie in Ray and I’s “Piece of my World” theory, where we think Crowley has Realm Dominance-related magic, a type of ancient magic we’ve only seen extremely powerful Fae like Malleus has. To me, it’s extremely relevant that each dorm is set in its own unique pocket dimensions, which is something we’ve never seen or even been mentioned outside of NRC before. Check that theory out for more elaboration! ^_^

But isn’t this a strange string of coincidences? That there’s all these mysterious occurrences at NRC that everyone takes for granted but can’t explain why these things are the way they are? What if no one has been able to detect Crowley’s magic because…the students are *living* in it 24/7? If Crowley has really created the pocket dimensions for the dorms, that even strengthens this idea! How can you distinguish his magic when it’s all around you, to the point that the very land is steeped in magic?

It could be that the entirety of Sage’s Island is one of those special lands that imbued with magic, like we see in Briar Land in Book 7. But we don’t see any ghosts outside of NRC (like in the Port Fest events) which makes me doubt this. I doubt that ghosts are prominent in RSA as well- but that’s not confirmed. The only other ghosts we’ve seen outside the school is in the Dwarf’s Mine, where there are magestones and nature faires- which implies the land has good magic for the ghosts to be visible from. Translation credits to GasMask 💖🐦‍⬛

Anyway, I digress. I have *a lot* I want to say about the NRC barrier specifically , but I thought of this when working on that theory which is coming soon (´∀｀*) I still feel concerned about the possibility of something happening to Crowley, because I feel any damage done to him would affect the entirety of NRC itself,,,

[ystrike1]

Bitten by the Dog I Abandoned - By Kim da (9/10)

When a lofty Duchess cruelly abandons her lover, whip in hand, she thinks she'll never see him again. He returns a decade later, with soldiers behind him. Her dog has gone feral, and now she must protect her daughter and her fortune. Can she survive, with her reputation as a Duchess in tatters?

Evelyn Winter isn't the nicest woman in the world. She is the most beautiful. Everybody wants her in the worst way. She has lots of enemies that want her to stand around and look pretty. She has to be smart though.

Evelyn Winter is a widow. Her husband, Rowen, died after she gave birth to a daughter. So, there's no heir. After the death of her husband the region fell on hard times. Her beauty is a curse. The people look at her in disgust. She is a beacon of lust. The prince and the second prince both flirt with her, and she's seen as a heartless cow who taxes the people too much.

She also brutally beat her lover, Gillas, half to death. While he cried and begged her to tell him she was lying. He didn't want to leave her side. She whipped him until he finally let go of her leg, and then she left him in the snow.

Ok, hear me out.

Evelyn Winter was very likely in a marriage of convenience with Rowen. Upon his death (or his secret escape) she knew she would spend her life in peril, with a weakened region and no husband to rely on.

She (probably) kicked him out so he wouldn't get killed. Rumors about him being her favorite were already rampant.

Gillas IS A SERVANT. He is not secretly a king. He's not secretly magic.

Evelyn Winter is in a precarious situation, in a territory that doesn't like her much...with no husband or male heir.

Yeah...she did the deed to save her lovers life.

She is super convincing though, and very mean to her enemies.

Also, being a lover wasn't super fun for Gillas. He was the estate artist/groundskeeper. He had to hand paint her wedding portrait, which hurt him deeply. Rowen and Evelyn Winter were not enemies. They were at the very least very close friends, and she agreed to marry him to help him. Gillas probably had to watch them get along famously while she "used him for pleasure". Evelyn Winter also insists that she was deeply in love with Rowen (so people will stop proposing to her.)

So, ouch.

Evelyn Winter also has an adorable daughter named Sherry. She is Rowen's child on paper. She could be...you know...but it doesn't matter. Even Gillas believes she's a legitimate daughter. The Winter couple got along well. Gillas was just a toy, after all. He got whipped and abandoned as soon as he got too clingy.

Gillas resents Sherry, because she's living proof of the real bond the Winter couple had (or has Rowen could be in hiding)

Evelyn Winter shoots at two employees in the first chapter.

Did they deserve it?

Kinda.

Are things bad in the Winter mansion?

Oh yes.

Ten(ish maybe 7) years layer the mansion is a hell pit. All of the servants hate their gorgeous master, because the region is still poor. The two servants were literally um...role playing an r-word scene...because they hate her that much.

Evelyn Winter has to be tough as nails, or that scene won't be a play someday.

Gillas returns a war hero. He works for the second prince. He wants to ruin her life. He hates her. He hates her daughter. He wants her to cry on her knees and beg for his mercy. His. He won't be satisfied if the people burn her. It has to be him. He was willing to suffer and be her pet forever, as long as she allowed him to stay by her side...but she grew bored of him.

He went nuts.

He went to the battlefield to kill, until the prince noticed him.

He became a heroic story.

Evelyn Winter is wise to his bullshit. She knows he is an enemy absolutely, and he will never be her ally.

Also him not liking the child is a big ew.

Evelyn is absolutely right to hiss at him and prioritize protecting her daughter.

Gillas is investigating Rowen, who might not be dead....oh and Evelyn has been accused of a bunch of crimes and she may be executed.

Her toughness can't save her.

She refuses to support the second prince, because she's not a total moron. Vincent clearly chose Gillas to torment and scare her specifically. There is no way that Vincent doesn't know about his insane obsession. Gillas keeps letting her hit him, despite his new high rank. He lets her insult him too, because he knows she's getting desperate...

Vincent gave Gillas the power to torment her.

They are a formidable villain duo.

She chooses to support the first prince.

He is naive and easy to please.

He wags his tail because she's pretty...oh and he didn't hire her ex-lover to execute her.

I don't think Joshua is a reliable ally though, and that sucks.

That means her only way out is Gillas. She has to use him somehow, to save her child.

It will not be easy.

Gillas wants her to suffer and depend on him. He wants her to die without honor or pride. He's been obsessed with her for so long. He can't even see straight when she's around. He loved her so much. He looked like a different man when he was with her.

It's so toxic.

He wants to crack her open to see what's inside, even if it kills her.

[brucewaynehater101]

I hc Damian sees dick as more of a father then Bruce, my reasoning is that when Bruce was dead, dick was there for him and Damian already mourned that father and accepted dick as his dad.

and since in my brain Bruce causes most of the issues between the brothers, in a au where Bruce wasn’t rescued all the bats are happy and friendly to each other, dick is the older brother who’s basically their dad, Jason who’s very caring yet also insists he’s not (he has anger issues as well), Tim who can’t seem to fully grasp how much everyone cares for him but it’s getting better, and Damian who actually acts his age and not like a 20 year old man with murder problems (he still has murder issues but dicks made him realize that’s wrong)

There was probably quite a bit of an adjustment period in the beginning. When siblings are faced with a change in dynamics so that they need to rely upon each other instead of being pitted against one another, there tend to be big blowups and fights until they get the hang of things.

In this AU, it would be a bit hard to wrangle all the batkids into getting along. Does Tim never find that portrait that starts his search? Did Bruce actually die? Does Alfred find the portrait first and burn it so his family can finally be free (very ooc, but a cool concept)?

Tim finding out Bruce is alive is like a match near gasoline for him. He destroys all of his current relationships (justified or not) to save his dad.

There's also the grief aspect. The Battle of the Cowl could be seen as just the kids trying to find footing with the changes and the grief of loosing their dad.

It doesn't matter how much of a bastard Bruce is in this AU, the kids will still grieve his loss. If he was just unredeemable, they wouldn't have hung on so much. It doesn't matter how much Bruce hits them, verbally abuses them, manipulates, or abandons them when he turns around and acts like a good dad. He has good moments. That's the confusing and complicated aspect of it.

Bruce is the type of man to remember a fact his kids mentioned once off-handedly and distracted. He'd remember when they mentioned a childhood toy they loved but could never find again. He would spend months tracking down that company and hiring them to make they toy again if they didn't have any on hand. There's so much time, effort, and money he would put into such a notion, and he wouldn't make a big deal about it. The kid would probably just find it in their room one day and know it was Bruce.

Then he would turn around and try to convince the kid that all of their friends are out to get them and they can't trust anyone.

This AU would be hard to manage because only Dick is at the stage where he would be willing to give up on his dad. With the fallout of Robin, Dick moved on from unconditional love and belief in Bruce. He went to anger and hurt. He slowly healed those pains, but they were changed. Dick couldn't go back to how they were, but ultimately still loved his dad. Jason's death shattered their relationship. Even after Tim interfered, Dick would never be able to forgive Bruce for that. In the comics, he confronted Bruce about not being told about Jason's death. Bruce's response? He screamed at Dick, hit him, told him he shoulf have never had a partner, told Dick that he would've fired Jason in a few years like he did Dick, and then told Dick to hand his keys to the Manor to Alfred on his way out.

Bruce and Dick can go to therapy for years to work on their relationship, but Dick will never trust Bruce with his siblings again. He can trust the man on a battlefield, but he can't trust him at home.

Dick's love to Bruce, I hc, would turn to apathy, longing, and bitterness intermingled with spurts of reluctant fondness.

Jason, on the other hand, is pissed at Bruce, but he has too much passion to just let him go. It's a transition stage from love to anger to indifference. Through his reactions and actions during the Battle of the Cowl, it's obvious he still cares about Bruce somewhat. The opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. If he didn't somewhat care about Bruce, his death wouldn't impact him so much. I personally feel that the incident with Penguin and Gotham Wars is where Jason starts to become indifferent instead. To hate Bruce is to want to change him. It's to want him to be better because you know he can be. To be indifferent to him (outside of horrible actions the man commits) is to know he won't change. It's to give up on him.

Jason still remembers getting ice cream on patrol, sharing popcorn on the couch, reassuring promises of protection, and the laughter he could startle out of his dad. His anger and aggression against Bruce is because he believes that his dad could kill the Joker. He had believed that Bruce would have. Regardless on whether it was the right thing to do or whether a younger version would have wanted that, Jason had faith in Bruce. He ultimately considers his father to be a good guy. Perhaps someone that hurts Jason, but still a good guy.

Dick doesn't regard his father as such. He knows better.

The other kids are still at the love stage, where they rely on Batman and Bruce to be decent and a hero.

Tim may have complicated feelings about Bruce being his dad (how credible that is especially given their history), but he trusts Bruce to make the right decisions. That gospel has been shaken a few times, but it still holds.

Damian is still a child. Capable, kind, fierce, and strong, but still a child.

Cass was given the mission of the Bat by Bruce. He has shown her love and kindness others have not. She can see what he feels and intends to do even as he hurts others. He does not kill.

Barbara has Dick's back before she has Bruce's. Barbara is independent. She does not have the confidence in Bruce that the others do.

I hope Duke is enjoying his time with his parents free from bat drama.

Anyways, I do think the Bats would be better off if Tim hadn't found proof of Bruce's continued existence (it is not his fault that Bruce returned to do horrible shit. He is not to blame). Without it, there might not have been as big of a fallout between Tim and everyone else. There would have been lots of drama and fights between the remaining Bats, but they would eventually settle into a healthier unit.

If anyone wants more about any of this, feel free to send me another ask with what parts you'd like elaborated.

[dozing-marshmallow]

~VISITING CHRIS MCLEAN IN JAIL~

(Months in his sentence.)

It was quite scary, walking down the aisle of inmates. You made sure to stick close to the guard escorting you to Chris’ cell. The place reeked of alcohol and sweaty bodies, flaming your nostrils, making you solely rely on your mouth for breathing. So much rubbish was thrown between floors, loud chattering from other prisoners bursted the air. Walking down, you heard too many lewd comments passing about you. 

Yikes...

Further down, you could recognise Chris’ laughter.

”How has he been doing?”

The guard thought it better to show you.

There he was. Your favourite man in tangerine.

Rather than metal bars, he was behind transparency. Isolation?...

God, he was meant to be a prisoner, not have his ravishing lifestyle still concur because he happened to have money. His wealth was as self absorbed as he was, needing to radiate everywhere, even in a time where it was simply not enough to save him. In comparison to the single bed and toilet most imprisoned busybodies were limited to, for starters, there on his wall was four portraits, two of them being of the island, one being himself, the other one being the wedding day. That may have been the most selfless act he’s done yet. We then have his toy statues of himself, you and Chef on his shelf, too self promoting to be part of the utilities of the prison...and two rolls of toilet paper. Some prisoners are lucky to even get one.

He was sitting at the edge of his flat bed, looking shallow, but when he saw you, oh man, did he get excited.

”(Y/N)!” He yelled, jumping up and onto the glass that separated you. His hands pressed onto the door and saliva already slipped out his mouth at the sight of you,”(Y/N)... You...You actually came...to see me!”

”Hey Chris...” it was so uncanny to see him without that necklace,“How are you? I have a present for you!” you marginally lift the sealed box to him... Well, half sealed since it had to be checked first. The look on those officers’ faces... You would never forget it. It was bizarre, yes, but it was allowed.

”Presents!” his excitement overflown,“You know I love presents, nothing without them! Give me, give me, give me!”

”Uh...” you saw the slot was too small for your box.

“What’s the matter? Can’t find the right pair?”

The guard that assisted you kindly took the gift and handed it to him via cautiously opening the door. Chris didn’t have any intention to assault anyone, for his mind was too preoccupied with glee as he hurriedly went to open it, only to be greeted by anarchy.

”Larry?”

”Yeah...” you beam sadly, catching sight of Larry’s green head, peering curiously out from the box,“They were able to make him shrink and I knew you were lonely in here. I would visit you everyday if I could, but the rules state that if I did, it could mean your sentence would have to double.”

“Bummer. Thooough I wouldn’t wanna stay in here any longer than I need to! For whatever stupid reason. Now that I have my best friend in the whole world! Even though I told you to take care of him...” there he goes with that glare.

Not even a damn thank you,”Sorry Chris... But it’s better I give him back to you before the environment protection crew cleansed him too much. And I don’t know how I could take care of Larry.... Besides, he would be more happy with you than with me.”

”You’re forgiven, my absolute darling!” He set Larry down on his table before returning back to the door,”Sooo, what’s new with you? It feels like it’s been ages since we had any quality time together!”

“Erm... I’ve been better...” doubt weighed your words; it was hard to keep eye contact with your husband when his eyes were endlessly wide. Not knowing what else to do, you stupidly return the question.

“Good, good...” he hums, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the glass,“How’s Chef? Dead or something?”

“Chris!” You exclaim. Your husband always had some sadism, but most of the time, it was out of humour. Disturbingly, it was almost like Chef’s death was something he wanted,”How could you suggest something so horrible so casually? Especially on your friend?”

He shrugged,”What can I say? He hasn’t come see me in a while. Or maybe he has, but I just can’t see him because he’s like a ghost. Do you reckon he could float through this glass like how they do in the movies?”

“No... Thankfully, not.” you decide to leave out Chef rejecting your offer to accompany you in visiting Chris that day,“Chef’s been...busy.”

“Busy? Busy dying?” you hysterically shake your head,“Huh...” his eyes trail off to the side, slightly relaxing,“Have you ever realised that we slowly die everyday?”

You shudder. Death was such a lighthouse for Chris to ingest. Here though? Where everyday was the same thing, with a mere minute feeling like an hour? You knew this couldn’t be good for him,“Stop talking like that... You know that’s not how you really feel.”

He raises an eyebrow,“Oh, but what if it is? I no longer fear the deaths of the people I supposedly care about.”

“Is that right?” Supposedly? You were heartbroken.

“Oh! But I still love you. A lotttttt. Trust me!” His sight quickly returns back to you, springing a large smile on his face. There was something strange about it, but you fought that thought by giving a reciprocal.

“I...love you too.” why was it so hard to say it back?

“Really? Really... Really!” He places his hands whole back on the glass, going completely quiet as he stared at you. Just staring. You would’ve thought he spaced out, but his eyes were well aware of your being, standing before him, patient. Eventually, he starts speaking again with a soft tone,”Ohh...I can’t wait...to sleep in my own cottage again with you...to touch your hair...to touch you...”

Don’t dream about it so soon...,“Me too Chris... I... The bed feels so empty without you.”

“I have a solution for that!” he chimes. Whenever Chris is this inspired, you know it’s not gonna be nice,“Why don’t you do something unreasonable and end up in here with me? After all, I did nothing wrong to be here! I blame all those people who can’t take a joke nor know how to mind their business! All my accusers were nothing but absurd! It’s not my fault the island ended up the way it did! Besides, it was totally worth the ratings! Genius, am I right?”

Still thinking like a host, are we Chris?,“I-I’m good... I don’t think they would let us be bunkmates anyway, especially if you’re in...solitary confinement.”

“Oh yeah? Even if I threw up a thousand big ones for them?“ he scoffs,“Suit yourself. I guess I’m gonna have to continue pretending that my pillow is you. Your fault too.”

“What...” he’s not joking as well. That struck a nerve,“How is it my fault you chose to sell the island to that toxic waste company?”

“Come on!” his face stretches like it’s common sense,“No one could have expected something like that to happen! It was a complete fluke! No one can be blamed for that, especially not me!”

Of course he was going to make himself the victim: he’s worn nothing but orange for the past few months, couldn’t live by his own agenda and was constantly surrounded by people. Poor little Christian, the tragedy king, hasn’t life been hard on him,“That’s the thing though, isn’t it, Chris? The island was your stewardship and it was your decision to sell it to them. The only person to blame is-“

With the slam of his hand, a wobbly echo of glass emits through your body, leaving your words untied,“Don’t you scold me! You‘re the one that came to visit me, and I know I didn’t sign up to hear you forcing the blame on me for something that was out of my hands! It was out of my estimations, okay? Ugh!”

It took a lot to keep it together. This is exactly why you could never communicate properly with him. Why couldn’t he just slim his ego and accept that jail was his fault for once?! No one else was going to serve jail for him, maybe Chef was right in avoiding Chris,“Fine whatever, have it your way.” you glance down at your wrist, where the watch Chris asked you to keep safe for him buckled,“It seems that my visiting time is up anyway.”

“Aw, seriously? You just got here!” he huffs, magically getting over the heat of the argument,“Could you promise to bring some chocolate next time you visit? It'd be a reaaaaaaally great birthday gift.”

That’s right, it is coming up soon. You nod,“I’ll have to make sure it’s fine with the police officers first, but I’m sure they’ll allow it.”

He’s certain of it,"Course it'll be! They'd allow me to keep portraits in here, but not chocolate? Barbaric!" Certainty. His hamartia.

“Hah, that’s true.” first time in ages you both found something to agree on,“Well... Take care, Chris. I’ll be on my way now.” You turn on your heel and would have accelerated, had it not been for the man in question’s interesting choice of parting words.

“No kiss? Boooooo.”

You twirl back around, trying to figure out the best way to break it down to him,“We... We can’t-“

A disgusted sigh of his plagues your sentence,“I’m not a bird, (Y/N). Tweet tweet! I can tell there’s glass here. Erm...” he was in the spotlight of improvising, which he’s lived through dozens of times,“Let's do this..." he puts his fingers up to his lips and on removal, he whistled an exhale.

On cue, you hold up a hand and clench it like you had caught it, and done the same. Chris shook from exultation on process, the orange clothing his body clothing his mind in that moment.

"Awesome! See, she still does love me! (Y/N) could never abandon me." for a minute, his voice swooned with profound romance that you founded with him once upon a time. He turns away to the side and smiles, the lovey dovey flying away,"What will happen when our hostess comes next? Will I still be behind bars? Will I get to eat chocolate bars? All the answers soon to be revealed, right here on Total...Drama...Island!”

You take that as your cue to leave. He had gone to another world. Man made. Chris had never done stuff like that before... 

"Hey kitty, what about my kiss? Big Randy over here would like one too." Randy or one of the other prisoners tried coaxing you a few steps in on your exit of the institution of criminals, lust painted all over his oily face.

"Eugh." you stick a finger to your gagging mouth to the stranger prisoner's distaste.

The inhale of the outside air was all the cure you needed from the red-blooded fumes of that place.

Talking to the wall... Would it really be okay to let Chris back on the streets like that? Was prison even a good place for rehabilitation? On one hand, yes, it was about time Chris had felt the weight of his crimes, but on the other hand, was forcing it down his throat the best way to get him to willingly amend?

You won’t be surprised if after his release, he went on to joyfully add onto his record, which was kind of unfortunate- he was your husband. 

And you want him to come home.

[dragynkeep]

i hate the excuse of "weiss & blake's colours now being blue & purple are signs they're healing from their trauma!" cause even when you look at the uses of these colours in characters connected to their girl's specific traumas, it's the exact opposite.

weiss is in a majority blue & grey in v4 because you could infer those are jacques colours, he's shown in stark white & blue & in the schnee family portrait, the blue is most prominent on the schneeblings when they're under his control as children. by time we see weiss & winter as adults in their original outfits, that blue is nominal, almost gone as they are out of jacques grasp.

so why is weiss now in the most amount of blue she's been in throughout the entire show, in the most princess like, uncomfortable & inconvenient outfit when she's supposed to be a fully fledged huntress, no longer relying on her wealth & breaking free of jacques completely?

& with blake it's even worse because black isn't adam's colour: red is. his name is literally red earth. if we want to take it that blake's colour has been adam's influence over her, then her outfit should've been drenched in red as that's also the colour associated with the "bad" white fang.

but then we get to the later volumes once adam is dead & she's being defined by white & purple, all her black is nominal or just outright gone & it doesn't make sense because black was her colour. there was no negative connotation with black considering it's also the main colour her mother wears. we can't even say that she's wearing more purple + white to evoke ghira because these are the volumes she's been most politically quiet, especially for her people. all her fighting for the faunus was done in v2 & v5, when she was in black.

the most irritating point of this defense is that if these girls, this world was going to be so defined by colour, keeping them in that colour should probably be first & foremost. all the "justifications" can be made to the high heavens but if the characters named white snow & black flower aren't in white & black, then clearly some of the messaging has been lost in translation. especially when red rose still manages to remain red despite going through just as much trauma.

we don't talk about yellow dragon. she's been a lost cause since day one when they decided yellow actually meant brown.

[katyspersonal]

What Bloody Crow and Maria USED TO wear before?

Honestly, @heraldofcrow made a very good point ( x ) that Cainhurst Knights are not "real" hunters - they dispose of their nobles that got too blood-drunk! We do, however, know what their warriors used to wear thanks to a link between portrait and Chalice Dungeons:

(The 'display' one is unused, I saw it first in Lance's video about some unused items here ( x ), at 5:40)

And now I am thinking about the fact that Cainhurst Guardians (what Bloody Crow and Leo are) hunt specifically for Blood Dregs, that are said to be discovered within hunters first and foremost, and that lore bit that Vilebloods clan, was (re)born after Byrgenwerth discovered (more like brought back) the holy blood! It is possible that THE reason why Cainhurst warriors were hunting in Chalice Dungeons to begin with WAS to restore their 'legacy'.

So, basically, the Guardian type might have been a later invention, as they're 1) associated with the 'clan' (consanguineous contract with the blood queen) 2) NEED hunters' bodies for their quest and 3) found as hostile NPCs in dungeons but there are no corpses of THIS type of hunter scattered like this, so they simply could have dived in later

^^^ There is an armour of warriors on horses in Annalise's throne room specifically that is very similar, though! If anything, looks like the same armour but a silver variant instead of golden one! Within the lore, both silver and gold are believed to repel beasthood!

It is hard to say for sure which is which! Cainhurst seems to be more particular on silver in the end, though, whereas Healing Church picked gold as THEIR trademark, especially manifesting in Gold Ardeo of Executioners. But.... yeah, you know, THAT theory:

I would think that initially, Cainhurst had the golden heavy armor, but soon enough they started to prefer silver instead! Maybe to further distance from the Church as the tension between was growing, or maybe to connect with their ancestry more (Pthumerian ancestors DO seem to wear mostly silver things, Mergo's servants and Labyrinth Warrior off the top of my head). Maybe both! Or maybe 'golden' warriors were the army - diving into dungeons, travelling lands, etc, but 'silver' warriors were bodyguards specifically, with attached presence to the castle and the queen! I think I like this one!

My point is? If Bloody Crow and Leo were guardians of the queen from the start, this might have been their armour before adopting the new style as hunters of Blood Dregs.

And maybe Maria also used to wear a set like this? Beasts (and undead Pthumerians in the dungeons, for that matter) are very agile, and heavy armour would not be effective. You need to jump and roll and run with these fuckers, you'd need a lighter armour! We can see confirmation of it with just how many warriors are dead in the dungeons. So, Gehrman and other Old Hunters appeared and helped Cainhurst to adopt different tactics with clothing and maybe weapons?

Alternatively, just like heraldofcrow said, maybe Maria WAS a Knight and not the warrior; but, again, Knights are basically internal staff with their clothes and unnecessarily elegant fancy weapons x) Their forte is killing their peers that went cringe and fail, not so much the beasts! So, again, a training to become stronger and go out there to protect the city from "plague of beasts" was needed.

Male Knights specifically have shoes of horse riders (with sharp metal plates to them, you know) and the name of the weapon Reiterpallasch means 'horse rider's sword' in German. So yeah, like I said before, it is expected that male Knights would prefer riding horses and using Reiterpallasch and rely more on their physical capacity; meanwhile, female Knights would likely rely more on bloody sword Chikage, that is also then used by Guardians! Interestingly, transformation of Chikage doesn't include stabbing oneself like in Maria's battle, but instead, you slide it in the sheath and it comes out bloodied.

Maria's weapon is also interesting, as it is not simply Chikage but without blood, of course! I feel like typically male Knights would use Reiterpallasch that is a sword, but also a gun, meanwhile female Knights (and later, Guardians) would use Chikage and Evelyn, and Evelyn Maria is pretty familiar with too!

Basically, she could have already been a unique Knight on her own, maybe already had her unusual weapon, or maybe she used Chikage + Evelyn combo but never used Chikage's bloody state. But Cainhurst seems to be the most gender-roles place, and if Cainhurst Knights had certain "norms" within them (with men being more dex and women being more blood), I can imagine Maria being 'your angle or yuor devil' with her style and clothes x)

Yet I just..... keep thinking about the possibility that guns using silver bullets were Old Hunters' invention entirely, that Cainhurst OWES Evelyn to Gehrman, and that Knights became a thing after holy blood was brought back. Because now the vampires could drink it like that! In that case? Maria and Crow could wear that cool metal armour, then Maria would adopt new style from Gehrman and Cainhurst would be the one to steal the drip for themselves! @fantomette22 made a good point that Knights on the portraits are depicted WITHOUT the ribbon; meanwhile, Knight's Wig is not only the ribbon itself but a... well, wig. It has a piece of silver hair attached to it! So maybe not Maria imitated the look of the Knights as a hunter, but THEY imitated her look in honor of her being the most important warrior amongst themselves?

Yeah it largerly depends on how long one wants to make the timeline, but what do you guys think? Was Maria wearing that cool silver armour before becoming Gehrman's student, as a guardian of the queen before they became something else? Or maybe what Crow's armour is actually DID exist for a while, and Maria was wearing that one before departing as a hunter? Or was she wearing just male Knight outfit but with fighting style more common for female Knights? Or she had unique look entirely? (But yeah also please consider..... Bloody Crow in alternative armour...)

[gale-in-space]

Here's the thing about AI generated images.

AI generated images rely on other artists' work. That's not a secret; the datasets that are fed into the AI consist of works created by human artists, the goal of which is to synthesize new images that "replicate" the artists' styles. This is art theft, as the works are used without the consent of the artist and marketed off as original works by the AI user.

Art relies on technique and skill. Great art is often the product of years of the cliched blood, sweat, and tears. It takes time and deliberate repetition to develop a mastery over anatomy, color theory, values, etc. Simply punching in a few prompts or supplying an AI generator isn't creating art - it is generating an image that is, again, attempting to replicate *real artists' styles,* living or dead.

AI "artists" will put actual artists out of work. I've seen it happen already. It starts with something as seemingly harmless as creating a AI portrait of some selfies you've gathered (I'm seeing this phenomenon all over Facebook) to industries using AI to generate promo "art" of whatever it is they're trying to showcase, to worse yet, corporations like the Mouse generating movies and TV shows via AI because real artists are just too expensive. And that's the whole point. Humans are expensive because they have to eat, whereas computers don't. The art industry will be forever upended because of AI, and if something doesn't happen in a legal sense to protect us, we're all going to get the boot.

That being said, art does not just belong to the bourgeoisie. I've seen it argued that art is a luxury, and that only the upper middle class and beyond can afford to commission artists; the advent of AI art, they claim, will make art more accessible to those who simply cannot afford it. I've not heard a more flagrant lie this entire year. I can count numerous artists that I know and have seen who are advertising their art for less than the minimum wage per hour spent on a piece. Meanwhile, people are spending their money on... checkmarks? Useless blue checkmarks?? Not to be all "maybe you should stop buying so many lattes so you can afford to buy a house" (because that's just objectively nonsense), but something doesn't add up here. The main takeaway here is this: most people on here can afford a $20 drawing; they just don't want to.

No one is "gatekeeping" art. Literally nothing is stopping you from picking up a pencil/pen/paintbrush/etc and learning. "But learning art is expensive!" No it's not. My friends and I all started out with Crayola crayons and No. 2 Pencils and scraps of homework assignments or school notebook paper. I remember when *printer paper* was a luxury to me, something I couldn't wait to get my hands on because it was crisp white and lineless. Yes, special art tools like charcoals and pastels can be expensive. But you don't need that to make art.

But what about disabled artists? What about them? They'll continue to make their art as they've always done and not through cheating the system. I have an Essential Tremor (amongst other issues that I don't feel like shouting from the mountaintops), and it can be quite obstructive to how I do art sometimes (trying to hold a pencil to paper is quite a feat for me, but I still do it). I've come to own my shaky lines - because my disability, no matter how damning it may feel sometimes, will never prevent me from trying to make art as long as I live. Other artists with more debilitating conditions than me make do just fine - from artists born without hands, to a man named Paul Smith with cerebral palsy who would "draw" using one finger on a vintage typewriter - it is a thing that happens. We persevere. To claim that AI generators are a tool for the disabled to create art is to spit in the face of actual disabled artists. We deserve better than this mockery.

[atopearth]

Ikemen Vampire Part 13 - Vlad Route

I am so so excited!! Vlad is so beautiful and I'm even more interested in him after le Comte's route, so yay!! Off to a great start with the beautiful CG tbh, it's so prettyyyy!! I don't even blame the heroine for being so attracted to Vlad's ethereal beauty that she's been trying to look for him ever since she saw him haha, especially since he gave her a huge bouquet of flowers, like who wouldn't swoon?! Vlad smiling is the sweetest thing ever, I die for his smile. It's so adorable how Vlad told the heroine to work for him one hour every day after she finishes her shopping, and he's just been taking her around and trying to cheer her up and play with her lol. He's so sweet. Legitt, how can you not fall for Vlad when he plays the violin, invites you to dance and have fun? He is an angel🥲 Omg Vlad can tell jokes, I am dead, he's so cute. And he's so thoughtful and I love how he gives her flowers always representing something meaningful.

The heroine really is always so reckless. I kinda wish they didn't reuse the trying to save Vincent's painting scenario again in this route but seeing Theo and Vincent so concerned over her was really sweet so it's okay. I find it so sweet how the guys were actually gossiping about the heroine getting close to a guy outside all this time and how they wanted to introduce themselves, and how nice it would be if this made her decide to stay with them in this world. They're so cute!! Which makes it all the more saddening that this person had to be Vlad. I can't imagine seeing the person I love so calmly deal with a person like a "wilted flower" and yet look the same as usual. But I can't bear to hate them, especially remembering how Charles asked the heroine to please not hate them😭 I'm glad Napoleon talked to the heroine and discussed whether they could really just write off Vlad as just "evil". When Vlad came and gave the heroine the single red rose, I couldn't help but soften my heart for him. Like, I've been taken by Vlad the first time I saw him, but seeing the pure and genuine person he is that keeps his promises regardless of what happens makes my heart so happy yet hurt so much. He's the one who had to see the desolate future, the one who experienced it first hand and know how it feels to be all alone in a world of nothingness, and it's just impossible for me to blame him for his actions knowing how "kind" he is.

The heroine is brave for jumping into that door with the warped space not knowing if she'll be able to arrive at where she wants to go or not. Kid Vlad is very cute. Considering how the girl in the portrait looked exactly like the heroine, I'm not surprised it was actually the her who time travelled to the past and thus completing the time paradox but I guess it does make a bit more sense as to why Vlad listens to her. It honestly breaks my heart to think about Vlad having to face the fate of his whole family and clan massacred by vampire hunters at such a young age. A child with no one to rely on anymore and no one to care for him, and yet despite everything, he still turned out so kind. I wanted to cry when Vlad thanked her for finding him (in the closet when his parents said they're playing hide and seek) and said he'll find her next time. If they make the heroine Vlad's reason for living all this time and to not hate humans but instead the crimes they commit, how an I supposed to happily do the other routes where she doesn't end up with him? 😭 But I guess considering how Vlad is, he'll probably be happy for the heroine as long as she's happy. Considering she was the one who saved him when he was a child, I guess it's understandable that Vlad would be more receptive towards her ideals and the future she wants because he's only living in this world because of her existence, so how can I really fault him for changing his goals because of her? And I guess seeing her again helped him think that he can believe in humans again since she has always been as kind as she used to be in his memory.

I spent my gems and got the premium story for chapter 24 and I really enjoyed seeing the heroine tell him she wanted them to live side by side together and protect the world together because she didn't want him alone to carry the burden as some sort of divine child or god that is deemed to protect this world, but she wants them both to protect this world because they love both humans and vampires and they want everyone to live happily, just like his original wish, and I couldn't help but feel touched by that. Life was so difficult for Vlad because he was always 'alone', so even though his wish was probably the same, the methods he decided on changed because he didn't believe in people like he could back then, so I'm glad he's found the heroine again. They can support each other. It was so funny how the guys basically had a round table discussion on where the heroine would stay lmao. One thing I really liked is that Vlad was the one to ask the heroine to become a vampire so they could spend eternity together. Usually, the guy finds it difficult or they hesitate because it's a life of torture but I love that Vlad has confidence that they'll love each other for eternity and knows the heroine feels the same so him asking her to become a vampire felt like a strong profession of love rather than a request that I would be scared for the heroine to accept. I believe in Vlad's love for her and I believe in her strength that no matter what happens, they'll be able to overcome it together. I wish we got a snippet of their vampire life though haha.

Overall, even though real life ended up interfering and I took a long break from this route, I have to say it didn't diminish my feelings for Vlad at all! I really liked Vlad and his route was good. I enjoyed how we got to see how kind Vlad was and how that kindness caused him to go down a path others didn't accept. I empathised with him and loved him understanding his choices even if it hurt many people. I think what I loved the most was seeing the young Vlad and how all along, he has been looking for the heroine and also waiting for her to find him. I loved how they both cherished each other as much as the other did and I liked how the her from the past and the her in the present saved him and gave him hope to believe in the kindness of humans again. I won't say the route was perfect, but everything that I didn't like, Vlad's personality and sweetness more than made up for.

[space-blue]

Today's doodles

Na'vi statuette, carved from wood.

We see a LOT of Na'vi craft, but it mostly relies of weaving, bead making, and non figurative wood carving. Even children's dolls are made out of weaved grasses. A na'vi artist discovered the work of an Avatar scientist who was a dedicated wood carver and fell in love with the Na'vi she detailed. The Dream Walker's small, human made carvings were particularly prized as they were impossibly delicate and tiny to the Na'vi. Several Na'vi have such woodcarvings pierced as beads like netsuke and added to their songcord.

The one above was recorded as "Sitting self portrait as I learn" made by the Na'vi artist who popularized the practice.

Those are sketches of Tsawtem. He named himself after the words 'big' and 'change' and embellished it. He's an Ash clan native, hence his enlarged ears and nostrils, as well as a strong, hairless tail. (The notch in it is from a misadventure). A cultural hint of his origins lies in the vertebraes he uses to cover his queue, a common practice among his clan of origin.

Tsawtem doesn't live with that clan however. He left to join a traveling clan of traders. Nomadic Na'vi making their way through Pandora hopping from one clan to another and offering trade of far-away goods, but also, crucially, news, information, stories and songs.

That's what Tsawtem is, a Songcord Singer, a very skilled and specific craft. He replicates songcords taught to him, whether part of a clan's songcord, or that of individuals, alive or dead, and collects them. He learns the songs by heart and shares them as trade knowledge or simply for entertainment.

He has three stooges who play percussions and a duduk-like wind instrument for his more colourful performances. Tsawtem is obviously extremely popular with children.

He had a rough life. He was adopted as a child into a new clan after his was wiped out in a territorial war. Finding he couldn't fit in, he left with a trader clan and renamed himself.

The original sketch for Tsawtem had him dressed with songcords as a shaggy outfit he sways as he dances to his more adventurous songs. I need to work on him further! I love him, he's my first bard ever.

[niphredil-14]

Uneart My Heart Ch 5 (Jason Todd/Reader)

Summary: While Alfred and Dick care for the comatose Y/n, she has some interesting dreams Warnings: none? Let me know if I should add something here Word Count: 3.1k Taglist: @mxsmwndr SERIES MASTERLIST

“We are not moving her here just so you can feel like you’ve cleared your conscience, Alfred.” Batman stood, long strides carrying him out of the room, Alfred right behind him.

“But, Sir—"

“The hospital has it covered, besides, she tried to kill The Joker. That draws way too much attention to us.”

“Sir, Master Jason would want—"

“It doesn’t matter what he would want! He’s dead! Dead people can’t want anything.” Bruce had stopped walking, slamming a fist into the wall beside him, rattling the various photos, paintings, and memorabilia scattered on it. His chest was heaving, shoulders shaking, yet as quickly as his outburst had come, it was gone, leaving Bruce a blank canvas of stone, unreadable, distant, unemotional.

“Master Bruce.” The bat made no sound, yet neither did he make an effort to walk away. Alfred stepped forward, placing a hand on the man before him, who in the moment, looked almost like a child again, who even after losing his parents and being of the disposition that it’s better to be alone, relied on him. “Regardless of how you process loss, which is rather unhealthily, might I say, that girl loved Master Jason, and he loved her. Now, as far as I’m concerned, that practically makes her family, and we are the only home she has now. You cannot just abandon her because of a little risk, or because it is hard to imagine her trotting around here without Jason at her hip, no matter how painful the image is. That girl needs us, and we cannot just leave her in the hospital. Bruce had turned to look at Alfred, then to the portrait of his parents hanging behind him, his eyes softer, sadder. He sighed, meeting Alfred’s eyes and giving him a defeated half smile.

“Well, we don’t want Harley or her goons going in and trying to finish the job, do we?” At that, Alfred smiled, and squeezed the shoulder his hand had been resting on.

“No, Sir, that we do not.”

 Several pieces of medical equipment had been added to her room in preparation for her arrival. A heart monitor and feeding tubes were the main tools, but there was also a tray with an extensive first aid kit and some other medical doodads. It had been a couple of days of making arrangements and plans for her and her treatment, though they passed quickly. And when she had been brought back to the manor, they quickly fell into their routine changes for her. Their minds had been made up, they lost one, they would not lose another. Bruce had almost instantly gone back to being an emotionally closed off hermit after his talk with Alfred, who delved headfirst into caretaking, with the assistance of both Dick and occasionally Barbara. They took shifts watching, caring for, and entertaining her. It was Dick in the room with her then.

“I should have come to meet you when I found out that you had moved in here, I’m sorry that I didn’t. Jason used to talk about you sometimes, when we would patrol together, asking for advice about some girl he had a crush on in his class. He didn’t tell me your name, but when I heard that a friend of his was moving in, I figured that it must have been you. He used to ramble on and on about how pretty you were, how you were one of the only kids in his class who were nice to him, about how he was trying to learn all the constellations and their myths, because he knew you liked them and he wanted to impress you.” Dick spoke to her sleeping form as he pressed the small syringe to her skin, taking a blood sample, then placing it aide as he untied the tourniquet that rested about three inches above the puncture, his rambles never quieting. “What you did in the store was really brave, stupid too, but honestly, I probably would’ve done the same thing if I was in your place. I should have been better to him, I was supposed to be his big brother, but I was too mad about the fact that Bruce had replaced me, and that wasn’t fair to him. I’m glad that he had you, he deserved to feel loved.” He paused for a minute to take a breath and look at the girl. “Well, I’m gonna run down to the cave really quick to get the results on your blood, and then I’ll be right back.” And with that he left the room, returning minutes later. “Okay, so, everything’s normal with your blood for the most part, you could use a bit more of a few different vitams, but that’s not anything you need to worry about.” Having finished checking up on her health-wise, he settled down at her desk chair, glancing around her room. He didn’t mind helping Alfred care for the kid, he had regretted how he treated Jason, feeling that he should have been there for him more, that he should have been a better big brother. And so, in that moment, looking at the state of the girl, he had resolved to do his best to protect any child that Bruce was stupid enough to let so close. He didn’t have much time to ponder this promise before the door creaked open and Alfred strode in.

“Ah, Hello, Master Richard, Miss Y/n. I assume you’ve already checked her vitals and did the blood test?”

“Yup, just got back.”

“Very good, I can take over for a bit, if you’d like, Sir.”

“Sure, is there anything you want me to do in the meantime, Alf?” The old man smiled.

“I’d be very much obliged if you could switch to laundry from the washer to the dryer, and then put in the next load.”

“You got it.” Dick said, placing his hands on his knees and pushing up from the chair, bidding the butler and the girl goodbye as he closed the door behind him. After hearing the click of the door falling into place, Alfred took a seat on the side of the bed, gently picking up her hand and grasping it in both of his, resting in his lap.

“Oh, my dear, I am so, so unimaginably sorry. I never should have had you go out that day.” He spoke, looking down at the pile of hands. “None of this ever should have happened to you, or to him, you both deserved so much better, Miss.” Sighing, his eyes shifted from her hand to her face, seemingly peaceful in her rest. “However, I know that nothing I can say can undo what has happened, so I suppose I shall just move you a bit so you don’t get any bedsores, alright?” He knew that he wouldn’t be receiving any response then, but nonetheless he let silence sit in the air before standing and repositioning her, bending her arms and legs before returning her to her previous resting position. Moving over to the chair that Dick had previously occupied, he sat, looking at her, grief writhing in his eyes. “I wonder if you dream, or if perhaps you’re conscious and just unable to move or open your eyes. If you are able to hear me, then please, Miss Y/n, don’t stop fighting. We need you more than you know, please wake up.” His voice was quiet, barely audible, as if he was praying for mercy on her behalf, sounding as if it was himself he was speaking to. “If you are dreaming, though, I hope that they’re lovely and peaceful.”

 She stood, surrounded by darkness, for quite some time, unmoving, staring into the abyss. Time seemed nonexistent. It was only her and the shadows, until it wasn’t. Emanating from every direction came that piercing laugh, and her stagnancy quickly transformed to sprinting. Forward, backwards, east and west. Direction, much like time, didn’t seem present in her void, but she ran nonetheless, the cackling unending and inescapable. It went on for longer than she thought her sanity could stay intact for, and maybe it hadn’t. It was entirely likely that the laughter was not what had caused the breaking of her mind, but what had signaled what had already shattered. Though a void filled with that ear-splitting sound was far from the best place for introspection and philosophy, so she ran, and continued to run, until she came to a door, and the laughter vanished. It was silent for several moments, or so it seemed, before quiet muffled music began to play from the other side. It was rap, some up-and-coming Gothamite’s SoundCloud , she presumed, and it was comforting, not because it sounded particularly great, but because it was Jason’s favorite. He wasn’t very particular about music, not really disliking any kind, but unknown Gotham rap was definitely his favorite. Feeling too many emotions than were identifiable, she knocked twice on the door, receiving no response. Looking back around and finding only void other than the door she took her chances and pushed it open. She hadn’t even noticed the tears until his thumbs had wiped them from her cheeks. Looking at her concerned, and gently pulling her into a hug. The small trickling of an afternoon shower had turned to a hurricane, and she collapsed into his arms, holding him as tight as she could and sinking to the floor, wailing into his neck, as he soothed her, whispering sweet nothings and positive affirmations in her ear until her eyes had dried. She was in his room, though it seemed much more occupied than she had recently remembered. Looking around the room, everything was in its place, yet dislodged enough that she could tell it was being used, the lights were off, except for two small lamps, one on his desk, and the other on his bedside table, adding just enough light to the evening rays brightening the room. A small candle was lit, too, as it usually was. Jason had somewhat of an obsession when it came to scents. She never asked, but assumed it came from his childhood. Living in a dump, and spending most of his time on the streets, he must have had to put up with a lot of nasty smells, so it really was no wonder why he burned so many homey-smelling candles. Nothing in the room combined could mean half as much to her as the boy she was kneeling with, who had pulled back from her hold to try and get a good look at her, only to have her arms tighten around him even more as she buried her face into his chest.

“Y/n?” He called, squeezing her against him. “What’s wrong?” She raised her head, meeting his gaze, full of love and worry, and couldn’t help thinking that something was missing, but she couldn’t place just what.  

“I,” She stuttered. “I don’t know. I just, I, uh.” She paused. “I just really need you right now, so please don’t let go.”

“Okay, I won’t, I’m here, I’ve gotcha.”

 ***

 It was like most days for them, Jason sat at his desk with a textbook and notebook open in front of him, his mind locked away from outside stimuli, and her, sprawled out on his bed, thumbs spamming the buttons on the portable console. They weren’t interacting, but they were together, not needing words and attention to find love and comfort in the air surrounding them. Their focus remained on their own activities, save for whenever the other one of them made some grunt, groan, or cheer. It was peaceful, just being, just feeling each other’s energy. Until boredom seeped in. Another level completed, of the same repeated tasks and strategies had her placing the console beside her, propping her feet up on one of his pillows, and tilting her head backwards to gaze at him. He was scribbling quickly, then pausing for a minute or so to read and ponder, then scribbling away again. A smile spread on her cheeks, sweet and peaceful at first, then devilish mere seconds later. She moved stealthily, quietly, and slowly before her attack. Grabbing a pillow in each hand, she braced herself. Then, when she felt the perfect moment had arrived, she threw one directly at the back of his head, and ran at him just after, swinging the other one at the side of his head. He moved quickly, ducking to dodge the second pillow, and grabbing the first, swinging it back at her, a look of smug determination on his face. He landed the hit, causing an ‘oof’ to leave her, followed by giggles. They both froze, staring at one another, waiting for the faintest movement to signal their opponent’s next attack. If asked, neither could tell what that cue had been, but as suddenly as it had first begun, it had started up again. Pillows swinging and feathers floating, the flurry of movement only stopped every few minutes for a few seconds before they were back at it again. Dodging one of his attacks, she lunged at him, pillow held tight to her chest, and tackled him to the ground. Pinning his hands beside his head, she spoke between laughs,

“Surrender!” Chuckling, he swiftly tucked one leg around hers from the inside and brought his knee up into her side to roll her over. Sitting on her stomach, he pinned her hands. A triumphant smirk plastered on his face, cockiness dripping from his voice, he said,

“Nah, you might wanna though.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” She snarked. The smirk on his face only grew into a sadistic smile. He shifted her wrists above her head so that he could hold them with one hand, and slowly, he moved his free hand down to her side, curling his hand into a fist, save for his index and middle finger, which extended stiffly.

“Last chance.” He teased his voice low and gravelly, his breath warm against her cheeks. Realization dawned on her, her eyes shooting wide open as she began to writhe and wriggle, a failed attempt to free herself from his grip.

“Don’t you dare, Jason!”

“Hm.” He hummed. “That didn’t sound like surrender to me.” And with that he dug his fingers into her side, tazing her. Her body shook, shivers running up and down her spine like electricity.

“Eep!” She yelped, wriggling around to no avail.

“Just say you give up and I’ll stop.” He said, his voice light with enjoyment.

“Never!” She exclaimed. He released her wrists and brought his second hand to her other side, just under the hem of her risen shirt, and begun mercilessly tickling her. “Ah! Fine! Fine! I surrender! Stop it!” She laughed. His response was immediate, removing his hands and rolling off her to lay on the floor by her side, laughing with her.  When they both had calmed, and her breathing had slowed, she reached over and flicked him on the cheek.

“Hey!” Jason exclaimed, with no real heat in his voice.

“That’s what you get for being a dickface.” She said, lightheartedly, with no real vice either.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, and they returned to laying in peace.

 ***

 She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had first found him, but she couldn’t remember a time that she had felt so at peace. They laid, half sitting, half reclined on his bed. She had her head resting on his shoulder, her arms encircling his torso. He had one arm around her, coming to rest in front of him where he held a book, reading aloud to her.

“It was in the spring of the year 1894 that all London was interested, and the fashionable world dismayed, by the murder of the honorable Ronald Adair under the most unusual and inexplicable circumstances. The public had already learned those particulars of the crime which came out in the police investigation; but a good deal was suppressed upon-“ His voice carried on, but she was more focused on the sound of it, and of the feeling of it reverberating throughout her whole body than she was on the words he was speaking. Shifting ever so slightly, she looked up at him, his face soft and serene, the combination of the warm lamplight and his long lashes painting shadows on his cheeks. His downcast eyes waltzing across the page, blinking slowly, roughly every other sentence.

“Jason?” He stopped reading and turned his head to look at her, their faces almost touching, their breaths gently fanning each other’s cheeks. He smiled, waiting for her to continue. Rather than say more words, she moved her arms from encasing his torso to bracing herself on his chest, sitting up slightly so that she hovered just slightly above him. He made no movement of protest as her face inched closer and closer to his. Tilting his face upwards and just a smidge to the left, he let the book fall from his hands when their lips met. Her world was nothing save for bliss up until that kiss. It was nice, at first, but then it all came crashing down. He was warm, but all she could remember was a pair of lips, feeling so similar to his, yet icy to the touch. And she remembered. Pulling away from her, he cradled her face, wiping her tears away again. He looked at her wide eyes, staring down at him in despair, streaks of tears running down the mound of her cheeks. And he knew. His face morphed into a sympathetic smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips, still holding her face.

“Oh, Baby.” His voice rang with sadness, as if he was losing everything too. “You should wake up.”

“No, please, I love you. I don’t care if this is real or not, I love you.” She begged, the tears gushing from her eyes.

“I love you too, but you need to go now. I’m sorry.” Though he wasn’t crying s much as her, there was a soft misting of water in his gaze, as he held her tight.

“Please, Jay, just a few more minutes. I’m not ready to lose you again.”

“Is anyone ever ready, Y/n?”

“Please, please, just five more minutes.” She begged, holding his wrists as she leaned into his hands.

“Five more minutes.” The serenity had been chased from the room by desperation and fear, she fell from his hands to his arms, pulling him tight into her own. Her face pressed against his cheek, sobbing uncontrollably. He matched her strength, mimicking her hold as he pressed his face back against hers. Turning his face to the side, he slanted his lips against hers, doing his best to steal away her pain and replace it only with his love. Caressing her cheek when they pulled apart, he gazed at her sadly, and her vision blurred and faded into darkness.

[copiousloverofcopia]

THANK YOU SO MUCH! This has been on my brain for a few damn days here, Okai so the idea is what if one night the reader is walking around the ministry alone at night bc they have things to do before going to Copia and sleeping but a feral ghoul or something comes along and attacks the reader, either Copia or one of his ghouls sees it happening and goes batshit trying to protect the reader and because everyone’s being so loud and yk violent it wakes up half the ministry and they’re just stood there in shock at how Copia is ripping this ghoul a new one for trying to hurt maybe even murder the love of his life because they’ve never seen him angry before

Hey I am here once again to apologize to an anon for taking forever to get to their ask/request.

Here's a longer snippet for you Ghestie. Hope you enjoy Copia seeing RED, with of course a nice Prime Mover twist.

The Fires of Indignation

Also available here on A03

NSFW below the cut related to intensely frightening and violent scenes.

Commission are still open! See pinned post for carrd info!

I am working diligently on my Valentine's Day letters as well as my two Valentine's Day fic winners so stay tuned for those too!!!

"Damn." You whispered to yourself, careful to not wake your Papa. It was the second night that week you had forgotten your notes in his office before heading back up to the Papal suites. You smiled as you looked over to Copia, sleeping soundly in bed, having passed out long before you'd find yourself able to crawl inbetween the sheets beside him. It would be an even longer night if you couldn't finish studying for your upcoming rites.

Prime Mover—that's what they called you now or at least would within a week's time. It was the highest and grandest position a mere sister of sin could ever hope to obtain. The right to conceive and carry a Papa's child, an ancient tradition within the Emeritus bloodline and, with the revelation that your once Cardinal was really an Emeritus heir coming to light, it had now become your duty to fulfill. One you intended to do with honor and prestige.

Well I'm off to a good start, you thought to yourself, realizing that you had been fumbling through your preparations and struggling immensely in your studies. It was bad enough that you had to be there physically for the Prime Mover ritual, a nerve wracking thought for sure. Placed on display like some prized glit for the congregation to scrutinize and examine. You also were expected to flawlessly perform many rites as part of your ceremony, all of which relied on you memorizing those damn notes.

You carefully stood up from the desk, the floor creaking as your weight shifted off the aging floorboards. The old Abbey made so many sounds at night. It was hard to keep track of just which spots would shout, as opposed to whisper, away your position. You crept through the bedroom and into the parlor, before letting yourself out the door.

With your small lantern in hand, you made your way down the dark corridor that led to the main stairway and down to the main hall. You swayed the small light back and forth, catching glimpses of portraits as you passed. Papas, long dead, painted as regal and enigmatic along with their Prime Movers and brood. You were wondering to yourself if one day Copia and your portrait would hang on these walls beside them.

You stumbled a bit as you reached the last step. "Ah!” quickly placing your hand over your mouth. It was so dark this time of night in the Abbey, with only the shining from the moon through the stained glass windows to illuminate your path. You were honestly surprised more siblings didn't end up taking a crash down the stairs.

You made your way to your destination, which was still next to the front office on the main floor. It would still be a few more weeks after his appointment as Papa, before Copia would take over the office previously held by Terzo. Copia didn't mind however, preferring the smaller space. "More intimate" he called it, with his old bookshelves, tattered wallpaper, and paintings of the plague. So many memories in that office that made you smile and even a few that set your cheeks aflame.

You were going to miss the days when he was just Secretary of the Treasury. Things were simpler then, and while he was always busy handling the domestic and international financial concerns of the Abbey, his responsibility only seemed to double once he became Papa.

You shook off your anxiety once more, quickly running to grab your notebook that was laid out on his desk. When you reached for it, you noticed a small note slip off the top and drift to the floor. You bent down to pick it up, carefully unfolding it before recognizing the meticulous handwriting in front of you. It was from Copia.

Amore,

I knew you would forget this and I apologize for not bringing it up for you, but I thought it would be cuter if I let you think I'd slept through it all. Want to come up and I'll quiz you? For everything you get right, I will take something off. Oh and cara…I'm only in my robe.

-C

"Oh Cope." You whispered, your heart fluttering in your chest as you held the note against it. This sweet eccentric man knew you better than you knew yourself. You would only be too happy to help him usher in the next generation of Papas. Maybe you'd get started tonight?

You swiftly grabbed the notebook and a few other notes just in case, and bounded back down the hall towards the stairs. It wasn't until you reached them—you noticed. The marble floor, giving away the sound of footfalls behind you. The small hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and somehow you knew this was not Copia.

You stopped, pretending to tighten up your robe, when you felt the breath steadily against your neck. "Please no–", you shuttered as you felt a ghoul's claws dig deep into the flesh of your shoulder. The ghoul spinning you around to face him. His eyes black as the night and piercing, but not as sharp as the teeth he bore at you. It was Alpha, one of Terzo's old ghouls. The one you'd all been led to believe was bashed back to Hell after he had attempted an assassination on the former Papa.

A lovers quarrel, reaching new heights when Terzo’s affections fell on Omega instead. Alpha was furious and incited a few of the other ghouls against him, almost killing Terzo, Secondo, and Primo during one of their evening Uno tournaments. It was all thanks to Copia that they were found and that the poison they’d be injected with, just happened to be one from a known Abbey stash.

"So pretty…" Alpha growled. The ghouls tongue licking up the side of your cheek. "What a beautiful, beautiful Prime Mover our former Cardinal has procured himself. Tsk tsk…that's just too bad huh?"

"Please Alpha. We had nothing to do with your banishing. Please just let me go." You implored him. The fear made your heart pound hard inside your chest as you struggled to think of a way to escape him.

"No…I'll deal with him and your precious Papa soon enough, but first I'm gonna make sure I end their hopes of ever continuing the bloodline…" he hissed. The tears came pouring hard and fast from your eyes. Your vision blurred as you squeezed them shut to block what was left of the sight of him.

Suddenly you could hear the ghoul taking a deep inhale. Huffing and puffing before he spoke again. "Seems I was almost too late." Alpha's words, hitting you like bullets to the chest—you were already pregnant. Your eyes widened, now fearing for not only your own life, but also for that of your child.

The raging ghoul lifted you into the air up by your throat. Crushing your windpipe within his grasp as he slammed the back of your head into the stone wall. The trouble with your vision, now intensified by your immense pain, and the feeling of warm blood trickling down the back of your neck. "Ah!" You screamed, unable to control your cries.

The next thing you knew, Alpha had been torn off you. His body flung to the ground as if he weighed less than a feather. Copia, your beloved Papa, pummeling him in the face over and over after as Alpha tried hard to stand. You slid down the wall, a streak of blood in your wake. Your head, pounding away as you noticed the squabble between them which was loud and violent, began awakening everyone from their beds.

As they arrived one by one, the whole of the Abbey watched in horror as Copia jumped on top of the ghoul. The sisters surrounded you, helping you to rest against them as they tended to your wounds. They blocked your vision, grateful you were that you didn’t have to watch. With each hit, Alpha's dark blood stained Copia’s knuckles and spattered against the walls and floor. “Guess you’re not as weak as you look Pa-Pa.” Alpha groaned.

“Come cazzo ti permetti! Lei porta mio figlio e tu l'hai aggredita! And for what? Your wounded pride at the loss of your lover? One you also tried to kill. You're pathetic!” Copia howled, his vision tinted red with rage. A fury building inside him that would rival Satan himself.

“Boss, stop! You’ll kill him!” Aether begged as he, Swiss, and Dew tried desperately, in vain, to pull their Papa off. Copia may have been a smaller man compared to them, but faced with the loss of his lover and child he had grown in strength tenfold. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it, Alpha smirked, continuing to spit up blood as Copia cracked yet another hit off his lower jaw. You started to get your bearings as your fellow sisters helped you back up. Praying to Lucifer for this to be over, you hand resting protectively on your belly.

You watched as the mob of siblings and ghouls crowded around the spectacle before you. “Copia please no!” Said a voice suddenly shouting loudly from behind you. You turned carefully, your head still throbbing and your vision still blurred, but you could tell Terzo had come on the scene. Both him and Omega, running past you as they could—pleading for Copia’s attention.

“No he deserves to die!” Copia said, the tone of rage in his voice turned to tears. This was nothing like him, the violence, the hate—Alpha had driven him to it and all because of his love for you.

“He’s not worth it fratello.” Terzo sneered, his disgusted gaze falling over the bloodied ghoul. “I told you Alpha that what happened between us was nothing. Omega and I—”

“Puh–” Alpha spit the blood out that had been pooling in his mouth, hitting Terzo’s crisp white spats. “All you Emeritus are just alike…willing to use us all up and then throw us back into the pit when we are no longer useful. All for the sake of your undeserved lovers and some unborn child.”

“So you say…is it true Omega…is she?” Terzo asked, the look of shock covering his face. Omega went to you, looking you over and taking in your scent.

“It is.” he replied, both Copia and Terzo shooting each other a cautious smile. Copia looked at you, such love and fear in his eyes. He could have lost you had he waited even just a moment longer.

“Will she be alright?” Copia asked as the sisters from the infirmary assessed you. You were pale and had lost a lot of blood from your wounds.

“She will need to come with us for stitches but she and the baby should be alright.” Sister Agnes assured him. Copia and Terzo nodded, you still having not said a word. You noticed that Omega and Aether had taken hold of Alpha in the stairway. Lifting up the limp and bludgeoned ghoul to carry him away. A rush of relief over you realizing that it was over and that Copia hasn't had to finish what Alpha started.

“We will send him back to Hell if they’ll have them, you go be with your Prime Mover fratello.” Terzo insisted, Copia flicking the blood from his hands and nodding as he approached you.

“Amore, I’m so sorry. I should have never left your notebook in the office…if I hadn’t then maybe—” he began, his words halted when you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly.

“Copia, it wasn’t your fault. We are going to be fine.” you insisted, sending him a smile before the sisters tending to your wounds made you wince in pain. Copia, looking worried until your smile returned once more.

“You will be more than fine amore, you and our child will thrive and that ghoul is damn lucky that Terzo still cares for him or I would have killed him myself." He growled, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He picked you up and carried you to the infirmary, holding you close to him as he walked.

“I love you Copia.” you whispered against him, so happy to know it was all over. Copia sniffled back his own tears. He too was happy he hadn’t killed Alpha, but so hurt by the thought of losing you he realized he absolutely could have. He took in a deep breath, setting you down on the bed in the infirmary, and looking deeply into your eyes.

“I love you. And I promise you…no one will ever harm you or our child ever again. Never again.”

Notes:

Glit- a female pig who has not had a litter.

Come cazzo ti permetti! Lei porta mio figlio e tu l'hai aggredita!- How fucking dare you! She carries my child and you assault her!

[creepysora]

Memories of the Upper Cathedral Ward would populate his nightmares, up until the day they followed him into one.

Looking back, he wished he had found nothing but death. He could still feel the damp cold of those stone floors creep all the way up to his spine. He could still smell the ever-present odor of brackish water, salt and rot mixed with formaldehyde and disinfectant. He still remembered how the hazy sweetness of Lumenflowers thickened the closer he moved towards faint whispers not quite muffled by strong walls and stronger doors.

He should have packed sedatives.

It's finally here! Cold enough to Crystallize, my story for @vermilionzines' For Whom the Bell Chimes - Bloodborne NPC zine!

This story is about Simon the Harrowed, and what turned a hunter of the Healing Church against said Church. I think it's because he found the same terrible things we did, and wanted to write about that.

Much thanks to the brilliant @rococospade-main for the invaluable help with this story, and even more for the friendship that came with it!

The first seeds of doubt, it seemed in retrospect, were sown by those who try to eradicate every last sprouting bud. The wild frenzy of conviction allows room only for the hardiest vines to grow, scarce and worn and tiny, but impossible to tear out once the first shadows take root within a foundation of cracked faith. 

For Simon, it was hard to pinpoint when the cracks appeared in his belief in the Healing Church. Growing doubt ate away at the solid foundations of long-assumed truths, snaking through the mortar of reasonings he had repeated time and time again. By the time he conceded his heretical musings to himself, the roots of a million misgivings had already eroded the faith he had clung to beyond repair.  

The Church — an older hunter, a clergyman, someone — had sent some of the Harrowed to the outskirts of the city, somewhere south of Hemwick, but still shadowed by the beautiful grand spires of Yharnam’s ecclesial weald. They were to spot and snuff out the first signs of the beastly plague that had taken too soon and too often, even among the ranks of the Church, turning into martyrs hunters and blood saints alike. While he often spent days in squalor posing as a beggar, Simon didn’t mind his duty. It bound him twofold to Yharnam and the Church: discovering early what threatened the lives of the city he treaded through like a ghost.

Except he did not find any signs of the scourge there. 

He had returned to report as much, to the highest possible entity. The Vicar had been gentle. Understanding. Rueful, and pitying, and they might just as well have held a blade to Simon’s throat. 

“Simon,” the Vicar had said, the glow of a hundred candles dancing on their face, “I take it you understand how valuable your work is to the Healing Church. To Yharnam.” 

Simon could see fine silver-woven thread coming undone at the hem of their heavy clerical robes. The effigy of the First Vicar lay hidden in the darkness, as did the portraits of previous Church leaders, their long-dead eyes still piercing him like arrows.

“The city relies on us. And we rely on you. We cannot allow for… mistakes.” The Vicar had stepped very close now. 

As they took Simon’s hand in theirs, he could feel how soft they were, the gentle touch of warmth sudden on his skin. Even without the light tricking his eyes, Simon recognized several blood gems on the rings adorning their hands that many hunters would — and had — died for. The Vicar’s eyes were clear as he met them, pupils crisp and dark and devoid of any sympathy. His throat went dry, as if the iron bite of hallowed blood mixed with the heavy scent of incense was getting to him. 

“The last thing the Church — the last thing this city — needs is a repeat of the tragedy of Old Yharnam,” they said, tightening their grip on Simon’s hands. “Or an infection within our own ranks. Do you understand, Simon?” 

Simon understood. 

In his mind, festering doubt finally made itself known, breaking through his eroding mental walls like mold: Why would the Church harm their own?

Full story on AO3!

[i-less-olivia]

Continuing the Blazing Saddles streak. I’m hyperfixating right now, so here I am, overthinking and overanalyzing an old comedy movie.

I love the upside-down exchange they have in the prison cell because, behind all the satire, slapstick and absurdity that defines Mel Brooks’ movies, the writers and actors still managed to paint a portrait of two characters who are believable as complex, tangible human beings, with issues, wants and needs.

The first few times I watched this scene I didn’t really take in its full impact, mostly because the serious topics it implies tend to remain shielded by the humour of the dialogue. Of course, the obviously significant racial themes are discussed, but there might also be other potential aspects hidden in the dialogue. The understanding of each other’s true nature, the beginnings of a close friendship, perhaps some past experiences resurfacing?

Let’s start, shall we? Keep in mind, most of this is just me trying to interpret their reactions, so it might be speculation on my part.

“Are we awake?“

Bart has taken his role as Sheriff seriously and is up to the task. He’s cautious, yet professional. If the city itself is a piece of work, who knows what the local prisoner might do.

“We’re not sure... are we... Black?“

Straight to the point, but, even when plastered, Jim is never unkind or disrespectful. Just from this simple exchange, you can perceive he’s different fron the rest of the morons of Rock Ridge. He’s the first (and probably only) white person in the movie who doesn’t use the n-word when talking to or about Bart. He’s not afraid, disgusted, outraged or offended. Just surprised, because he knows what the public opinion regarding people of colour was at the time (even though we later see he definitely doesn’t agree with it), and he never thought he’d see a black man become a Sheriff in such a backward place.

“Yes we are.“

A mere statement of fact. Such a simple line, yet so effective. Poor Bart’s probably used to any kind of reaction by this point, almost universally negative. His response is neutral enough, but his expression is dead serious. For a moment, gone is the goofy guy wearing the Gucci purse who was elated to become the town Sheriff, who took himself hostage and later complimented himself for it, who was singing “The Camp Town Ladies” until 30 seconds ago. He’s testing Jim, perhaps even daring him a little. He’s prepared for the worst. The lack of n-word from the prisoner is promising enough, but Bart knows, and so does Jim in that little pregnant pause, that this is a crucial moment for both of them.

"Then we're awake, but we're very puzzled"

And Jim passes the test. This is also a good time to go back and point out the obvious: while this exchange takes place, they've been bantering, in a prison, with one of them stuck upside down. A delightful first indication of how in sync their personalities and respective natures are. They're both chaotic creatures with a soft center, who found a kindred soul. Bart's wicked sense of humour bounces off Jim's quite naturally and with synergy, and they must notice and enjoy it as well.

"I think I better straighten myself out"

"Do you need any help?"

"... Oh... All I can get"

I'm such a sucker for the respect they show each other from here onward. The Sheriff knows the prisoner's situation is delicate and doesn't ask any questions, just helps straighten Jim out. Jim crowns the exchange with a grateful smile and genuinely thanks him. He also seems vaguely surprised at the notion of someone helping him, but I might be reading too much into it at this point. What's certain is that the slight tension that had been there before has now dissipated.

This moment was crucial for Bart to define the basis of their friendship, similarly to how their heart to heart after the chess match mattered to Jim. Those exchanges made them realize there was someone else who understood them and liked them for who they were, and who they could rely on in a world that could often be cruel.

It helps flesh them out as people and characters in a subtle, but very poignant way.

[transkenobis]

experiencing thoughts about predestination and total depravity and salvation and Harrier Fucking Du Bois. how calvinist thought around predestination is the double-sided coin of “you are fundamentally evil and cannot save yourself, you need god to change your heart” and “you are Chosen and Special because god decided to save you” and how harry does both.

i think there’s a large part of him that believes that he is fundamentally flawed, fundamentally unable to save himself and change the course of his life and atone for his own actions, he’s bad once so he’s bad forever, self-fulfilling prophecy, et cetera. and so he turns the people he loves into these savior figures where he expects them to pull him out of these awful circumstances that he has created for himself. he expects them to fix him. to the extent that jean leaving him to his own devices in martinaise is framed as jean finally pulling the plug and not taking responsibility for harry’s actions anymore. it’s both implied and stated outright that jean has spent the last few years picking up harry’s mess for him - he’s fulfilling harry’s responsibilities within the rcm, he’s trying to save face for harry within c-wing. and the second he and the rest of the mcu are gone, harry literally parties so hard he gives himself retrograde amnesia (with the implication that he was trying to commit suicide). 

and i know everyone says this, but the religious imagery gets so fucking literal with kim, where harry pretty much explicitly idolizes him and wants him to save him. so many people (myself included) joke about reloading saves because you picked an option that disappointed him - the game sort of leads a lot of people to rely on his approval to “make the right choices,” whether or not the choices that kim approves of are the morally correct ones. 

(another interesting addition here is that kim repeatedly refuses to take on a savior role for harry - he is not going to be the one to pull him out of his mess. he’ll intervene if your “personal matters” are interfering with the case, but beyond that, he’s very clear that he Is Not Going To Make An Effort To Fix You. you can ruin your life however you please, and by and large, he will just stand there and side-eye you, nothing more or less.)

and on the other side of things, harry has this weird relationship with moralism where (because he’s projecting his ex onto a religious figure) he seems to think that he’s got this profound connection with dolores dei and moralism and the innocentic system? in the sense that he has a personal relationship with a thematically and literally impersonal god. dolores dei is dead - she is not speaking to him. the moralintern and the coalition are overseas governments that have imposed their rule onto revachol - they do not care about harry as a person. even the portrait for the radio personnel on the coalition warship archer is distant - there is only the suggestion of a face, of its features, surrounded by shapes. and yet harry creates this personal connection with the idea of dolores dei, where she has Chosen him, he’s special, he’s part of an imagined group of the “spiritual elect,” he cannot lose that election and he is special and chosen Forever. 

but, by the same token, it’s now his responsibility to save martinaise, to save revachol, to save the world. the bloated corpse of a drunk gets a line where he says that harry personally failed all 4.6 billion people on elysium. shivers/la revacholière tells him that he can save them and the city, he can keep them alive, they need him. i doubt that it’s a coincidence that that the scene happens in a church.

it’s just wild to me because this whole line of thinking is so deeply protestant, so deeply calvinist, despite all of the catholic-and/or-orthodox-type set dressing in the church in martinaise. there’s the contradictory push-and-pull between the idea that “all humans are totally depraved, you do not have control over your sinful nature, you cannot become good by yourself” and the idea that “you are personally held responsible for your failures if you don’t choose to accept christ as your savior, and so you are doomed to an eternity of torment.” it’s total depravity and unconditional election. which is admittedly not what i was expecting when i went into disco elysium. but basically i think we can take the christian imagery and symbolism about fifteen steps further.

[robininthewindow]

Okay so I’m actually putting real amounts of thought into my au, which I will now be calling my “Forest Au”

Random tid bits and lore under the cut

So Splinter is staying a rat, but instead of growing up in the city, they grew up in the forest near April’s farm house, so they grew up with April seeing her once a year when she went on vacation with her family, until of course, her mom went ‘missing’ and she stopped going there during the summers, which made the turtles pretty sad ngl.

Okay So. Splinter is rat, got mutated in his 20’s by the time the story starts he’s in like his mid 30’s or smth I haven’t done the math.

The turtles were all mutates at different times, splinter found/adopted them at the same time and they were all mutated right after hatching.

Mikey and Leo are the youngest, Mikey is 8 months older than Leo, at the beginning of the story Leo is 12 and it’s 2 months till his birthday, Mikey is 13, Donnie is 14, and Raph is 16.

Raph and splinter have a pretty rocky relationship, Raph was Raph was like 4 when they first met splinter, and he was his usual hyper protective brother self so he didn’t warm up to the man all too easily, he still struggles to view splinter as a father a not a kind of caretaker.

Raph being a more aquatic turtle (he was mutates specifically for aquatic defense/fighting) spends a lot of time underwater, every day he takes a ‘water break’ that usually lasts about an hour or so, during these breaks Leo ‘fills in’ as he likes to call it. Leo doesn’t have any weapons yet, but he’s a pretty good fighter with just his fists and he’s been training with dummy swords and sticks

Donnie is still a little genius and he’s very much an inventor, his supplies are limited as is his general information range, for most of their lives they lived in some random hole in the ground, most of Donnie’s research was done love, in person, he’d document the behaviors of plants and animals he found in the wild, because of this he’s pretty good with animals and they tend to like him

Mikey is still very much artistic but he’s had to mostly rely on what was around him, so he was mostly just drawing with sticks and dirt or using the plants around him to work as materials for sculptures or collages, he once made a portrait of Leo using nothing but random berries be found in the woods (all of which were deemed toxic by Donnie)

Donnie became the main food getter, Raph being a carnivore and also the one with the most training (at the age of 5 of course) would get them all various meats of various livelihoods (he did the cat thing of catching half dead things so the babies could learn how to hunt) but Donnie insisted on getting plants too, so he figured which plants were poisonous and which weren’t by watching other animals to see which plants they ate and which they didn’t

Okay that’s all for now, if you wnat to know more about this au please don’t be afraid to ask!!!!

[butwhatifidothis]

I think for me the main hiccup for SS as a route is that Byleth is... kinda hard to emotionally connect to? I feel like there's a reason it's such a common complaint that there's no lord on SS.

Byleth doesn’t really have focus put on their character in any route - it’s more the mysteries surrounding them that are interesting than Bylth’s actual reaction to them. Whether it comes to emotional range, physical actions, or internal conflict, Byleth is far flatter than even any other regular character, let alone one that is meant to be the head of an entire route. Their (non-voiced) lines are fairly bland for the most part, they have no portraits to impact said lines like everyone else, their 3D model rarely changes expression - all of this makes the decisions they make lack any punch to them. It just feels like actions they happen to take - they don’t have any urgency to them.

Seteth having to play middleman to Byleth’s thoughts probably plays another role in way SS falls flat for a lot of people. Again, Byleth can’t directly express most of their thoughts since they don’t have almost any speaking lines, so Seteth is left to play two characters essentially, which mostly serves to bring down his character as well. Easily the best example of this dynamic failing hard is when Byleth just kinda forgets that they were the ones to come up with the plan to infiltrate Merceus, which has Seteth explain their own plan back to them just so that the player can know what’s going on. Because instead of just making this Seteth’s idea - because this is Byleth’s route technically so Byleth should be the ones having the agency to do things - or have Byleth come up with the plan on screen - which is impossible because Byleth doesn’t have the dialogue freedom to do this - it’s just this sloppy exposition dump.

Like... I know Byleth as a character wants to save Rhea, right? But I know that fact in a far different way than I know that, say, Dimitri as a character wants to kill Edelgard in the beginning of AM. With him I can really feeeel his want as something that comes from a deeply personal place for him, with it deeply being interwoven in his overall motivations that are themselves deeply interwoven throughout his entire character; with Byleth it’s kinda like. Knowing that grass is green. Like yeah I know that but why would I care. Imo it never really felt like Byleth as a character was invested in saving Rhea out of a personal drive to do so, but more so Byleth as a plot device needing to want to save Rhea in order to move the plot along.

Like personally I think SS only has any real emotional impact if you care for Seteth, Flayn, and Rhea’s feelings, but even then a lot of their screentime is dedicated to moving the plot along more so than it is getting a feel for their character - Rhea’s barely even in the route in the first place, to make things worse. And, if you’re investment into SS does rely on your love for the Nabatean fam, then you’re rewarded with having to beat the shit out of Rhea after she’s just taken multiple missiles to the face to save your ass, after she’d suffered through fives years of imprisonment. And unless you’ve gotten arguably the hardest support chain to complete in the game, this straight up kills Rhea. So in the end, in most cases, all that work you put in saving and rescuing Rhea still ends with her being just as dead as if you’d never found her! Yippee.

And if you’re in it for the mystery? You wanna know all the answers about what’s going on? Sure, you do get the reveal of the mysteries surrounding Byleth - which is going to be one of the main draws for Byleth since they don’t have much of a set personality at any point, and they don’t really bounce off of Seteth that well in SS specifically - but you get these answers... all dumped on you in one infodump. Before, again, being forced by the game to beat the shit out of the one you just saved, who just saved you, and who just gave you all the answers you wanted. Yeeeeah not for me lmao