#kidnapping is fine i guess?

[nienna14]

No children's author has quite understood how children play with their toys except for A.A. Milne, who wrote a story about two new stuffed animals being added to the collection, causing the already present toys to panic and immediately resort to kidnapping a child as the obvious solution

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[peppermoons]

Nobuhiko Okamoto really out there promoting his BL manga that is basically a bkdk au and you people here are just... NOT TALKING ABOUT IT?????

[chirpsythismorning]

Watching Wayward Pines for potential ST5 inspo bc the Duffers wrote a couple episodes in s1, and when I got to their second (last) episode and their name crossed the screen, I noticed a visual parallel that might already exist on the show…

Recognize it??

It instantly reminded me of that last shot for the opening of s3, with the landscape peaking out behind the Russian base. But when I went back and actually compared the two, holy shit it’s near identical, and not just the landscape.

I didn’t even remember the helicopter being there on the left, not to mention the pillar-esaue contraption at the center. Like… they’re the same picture.!

With them being credited right at that moment, it’s obvious this was an intentional nod to their previous work.

I just thought it was cool so I wanted to share, but in terms of my watch overall, there is a LOT going on that they could pull from. I’m only halfway through s1, though I’ve heard the show goes downhill in s2 so we’ll see how that goes 😂

[scoliosisgoblin]

Do you still draw YB content? What do you think of day 4?

yeah I still draw yb, majority of my stuff is yb rn. I just mainly draw a human version of him

I'm not a patron to the creators (I don't fw them) so I can't play the game and have to go off of videos and spoilers, so here's my thoughts so far (SPOILERS OFC):

- love the point and click style they're going for, I enjoy those games a lot so I am biased

- I'm a fan of Peter letting yn walk around and explore things at their own pace. when I'm in a new home or a friend's place, I often need to be left alone to allow myself to settle in and tend to feel smothered if someone's always over my shoulder when exploring etc (it also reminds me of when I got my cats and left them to wonder around on their own)

- what the fuck are windows 🙏🙏🙏

- apparently you both sleep together if you do the kind route??? WHAT WHY. I HATE THAT. PETER IS REALLY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR THAT 💀💀💀 I always thought of him as the type of guy to want his first time to be special tf was that?? (I'm also asexual so obv I'm not exactly looking forward to that type of stuff)

- I find it cute when Peter's working, autism be damned my boy can type!!!

- it's also super cute he gave us the bigger room and kept the small room for himself. also are all the stuff in our room stolen from us or did he buy the same/similar stuff?

- I love Rat, hope she gets more love and attention going on in the game 🙏🙏🙏

- also apparently you get to vaguely see files of pictures he took of you and he refuses to show it to you for some reason? or maybe that's not day 4? idek I hate that, Peter would show it off if anything

- the end of day 4, abusive route, I kinda like that? it's very interesting to me, how he'd do all that. I hate that he make yn nude but what the fuck am I supposed to do about it 🗿

Conclusion: lot of things to love, the writing is still something I'm not a fan of though

[factorialsotherfandoms]

There is a strange path which Philza finds while out exploring one day. It winds between the trees, and it is set along its side by flowers - not poppies, not Tallulah's flowers, but flowers.

He hesitates at it for a while, but eventually decides, why not? He may as well just take a peek.

Around and around the little path goes, until eventually it leads him to a little house.

No sharestone.

Odd.

Still... He makes sure his scythe is ready and his armour intact, and pokes his way inside.

Just a little, empty room, with a very obvious elevator inside.

It's a trap - it has to be a trap - but curiosity killed the crow and Philza takes it anyway.

Whatever he had been expecting down the elevator, it is not what Philza finds; from a quaint wooden room to a large area, not unlike the election dinner arena. It is entirely underground, however, the glass replaced with stone, and the stone decorated with buttons.

The stone floor, too, is decorated with buttons.

Or pressure plates, to be more exact.

A great, great many pressure plates...

Philza's eyes trail up from the immediate, to what should perhaps have been the more obvious; where the stage was before is a plinth. On that plinth is a bed, and strapped to the bed lies the struggling form of Forever.

Forever, who vanished into the Nether, and has been missing for weeks.

"Forever!" he calls, to no avail.

There's a knife attached to some sort of redstone contraption very close to Forever's throat, a bloody line already drawn across it.

Blood in his hair, too, matted and dirty. Torn clothes, bruises and cuts and ugly looking burns covering his body, and yet Philza is drawn to the knife at his throat, and the blade at his neck.

He looks around for a clue, desperately for a clue, and finds only arrow traps in the walls.

"Forever!" he tries again.

This time he earns his friend freezing up, going completely still, angled just perfectly to see where something has burnt away the skin across half of his face.

Philza's heart drops through his stomach, but he has to stay strong. He might not have control of the situation, but if Forever is going to get out if this… If Forever is going to get out of this, Philza has to keep his head perfectly level.

"Forever, look at me." He orders.

It takes a moment, and the indescision is clear across Forever's face. After a moment he does, however, turn his head to the sound.

"You're doing well," Philza tries to soothe as well as demand. "Now just stay still, and open your eyes."

"Phil?" Forever's voice trembles.

"I'm right here," Philza repeats. "I'm right here, just open your eyes."

Forever does as he is told, and Philza does his very best to keep his swearing quiet. The eyes that greet his are terrified, bright and scared and the pupils are uneven. He doesn't even know if he is recognised right now, with the signs of a concussion so very apparent on Forever's face.

"It's going to be okay," he promises, forcing his voice to stay calm. "We're going to get out of this."

They so fucking aren't. Anywhere Philza could step is a pressure plate, and any one - maybe more - of them will swing the blade at Forever's throat. From others, arrows. From others still, perhaps poison.

If he had his wings, if he could just fly, he could save Forever.

For now... He isn't quite sure what to do.

"Don't move," Philza instructs, trying to keep things simple. "I'll get you out, just don't move."

He's pretty sure it would be impossible, but he says it anyway. One slip, one movement, and Forever is dead. A knife through his throat, whatever.

And with the Federation as it is... Philza does not trust them not to have forced him to respawn on the bed in which he lies.

"Philza?" Forever asks, voice desperate and confused. The Portuguese that follows is too disjointed for the communicator to follow, so Philza just gently shushes him in reply.

"It's okay," he says in a voice reserved for eggs and panicking teenagers. "It's okay, I'll get you."

He can grapple up to the ceiling, then maybe float down? But the ceiling has buttons on it, and he's not sure it will work. Chorus fruit, perhaps, but it could equally land him on a pressure plate. He looks up and around, searches his backpack, checks his things... Takes a photo, looks at that for clues. Whatever the solution is, it is not obvious.

In the end he has to make a choice.

Still Philza hesitates, until he looks up, and sees that Forever's eyes have slipped shut.

The panic tips over, and he cannot hold it down any more.

"Forever!" he screams. "Forever! Look at me!"

Forever's eyelids flutter, but do not open. Philza curses and screams and yells encourage, but no matter what he does...

Forever manages to crack his eyes open for a moment, whatever he tries to say too quiet and too slurred for Philza to make out.

"Shit, okay, um," Philza looks desperately around for any sort of key.

There isn't one.

"Don't move," Philza asks of him. "Trust me, and don't move."

Philza does not deserve Forever's trust in that moment.

He's given it any way.

The only option he has, in the end, is to step forwards.

The first pressure plate does nothing.

Neither the second.

He doesn't like his chances so he steps to the left a little - still fine.

On gut he keeps slowly approaching, knowing it is inevitable his luck will not last.

It does not, of course, last.

Philza can only be thankful that the arrows in the walls turn to him, not to Forever, tearing through his armour and nestling deep.

He sees the shooter reload, breathes against the pain. Forever's eyes have slipped shut again, and his body has gone limp, and Philza does not have the /time/ to do anything other than suffer the pain.

Step. Step. Step.

Another trap, this time lava starts pouring in from the edges of the room.

Step, step, step, faster now, get Forever and /get out/.

It's the last pressure plate before he can jump to Forever's side that brings hell down upon them; a blade shoots through the bed Forever is laid on, piercing through his chest. Too far to the right to hit his heart, but the blood and the lung and - and Philza can see how Forever /barely/ reacts, even to that.

He doesn't chance the final pressure plate - he jumps over it instead.

"Forever!"

As soon as he is past the worst of it, he runs over, grabbing Forever's hands. He only holds them for a second, just long enough to squeeze them, before he starts unbuckling the straps keeping him to the bed. Somehow, somehow, despite the blade through his chest and the concussion in his eyes, Forever manages to look at him.

"I knew you would come for me," blood drops from his lips as the slurred words struggle to be heard.

"Fucking moron, getting yourself trapped like this." Philza pulls free the last buckle, then looks at the blade.

He doesn't know if potions are going to cut it, and respawn... Respawn is not an option, when he doesn't know where Forever will end up.

There's not much else to try, though; Philza pours potion all over the wound, then ducks under the bed. It's not too hard to disconnect the mechanism, and then all he has to do is...

Forever /screams/ as Philza pulls.

As soon as the blade is free Philza pulls himself back out, slamming one hand to press against the wound while he grabs potions in the other.

"It's okay, it's okay, you're okay," he promises, all he can do between the blind panic himself.

It's not okay - even concussed and bleeding to death Forever can tell that, even blind with panic as his backpack straps slip from his grasp for a moment Philza knows that.

He still pours a potion down Forever's throat, and more on the wound, and begs his lady not to take his friend away.

The winds twist and turn and when Forever passes out Philza cannot pause to worry about the concussion because no matter what he does the wound still bleeds. The potion should have healed it; there must have been something on the blade because no matter what he does, Forever still bleeds.

He bleeds less, and less, but still bleeds.

With one shaking, bloody hand - the other still trying to treat the wounds - he manages to turn his communication's location to public and yell for help in the chat. He does not know if anyone sees. He does not know if there even is anyone to see, he can only bring a potion back to his hand and continue pouring it.

The wound is smaller now, Philza thinks at least most of the internal damage might have finally healed, but the external... The skin is still gone, and the blood is still blood.

Philza is an Angel of Death, not of Life, but he does his best regardless.

Somehow, he stops the blood pouring from Forever's chest.

But more drips onto is suit and

oh

the blood is his.

Some of the arrows came dislodged in his panic, others fell, some just left space from the start.

Philza sits heavy on a bloody bed, rests a bloody hand on Forever's bloody chest, stares as bloody drips hit a bloody plinth, and the lava pools all around.

His awareness narrows until he cannot feel the panic, or the pain, or the adrenaline in his veins, only the delicate rise and fall of Forever's chest beneath his hand and that quiet

drip

drip

drip

[break. This should be a new chapter but I'm taking pity on tumblr]

Philza does not know how long it takes for them to be found, only that Forever is still breathing when they do. Not awake, but breathing.

Family voices swear from the doorway, there is the sound of water buckets placed down, a thousand other sounds he has trained every part of himself to pick up on because knowing those sounds means the difference between life and death.

He does not look up, he does not even think he can. Some of his wounds have closed up now, but others still continue to drip

drip

drip

Someone tries to lift his hand from Forever's chest. He does not know who it is, where they are, but he moves all in a start. He does not even think, he just throws himself over Forever - protect protect PROTECT - and twists to hiss at the offender.

It's only Baghera, wide eyed, hands raised in surrender.

Only Baghera...

Philza backs off, only to freeze again when he sees his blood drip down, mixing with Forever's now drying blood in the gorey pool.

Someone takes Philza's hand.

"Stand down," a voice says. "We're here to help."

Philza must check out for a few moments, because the next thing he knows he is sat, hugged in Bad's lap, the other surprisingly warm beneath him. Someone - Etoiles, he thinks - is dabbing a potion-dipped cotton wool bud along a cut on his cheek.

Shakily, Philza raises a finger to it. He is allowed to - the dabbing turning to his arm instead - and he finds a graze from a clipping by an arrow.

Huh.

He doesn't remember that.

"You are back with us?" Etoiles asks.

"I-" Philza glances around, trying to place himself, and- "Forever?"

"Baghera and Cellbit are looking after him," there's a swish of a tail against cobblestone, though Bad will always deny it. "He'll be okay."

"What happened, bro?" Etoiles pulls out a bandage, wrapping the wound on Philza's arm. "We just see a call for help and then this!"

"I..." Philza's gaze travels back to the entrance way.

"Maybe not just yet, Etoiles, he's still in shock."

"It will help."

"There was a weird building out here, so I thought I'd take a look," Philza frowns slightly, looks at his hands as he tries to remember. "It was... Trapped. And Forever was in the centre. I think... He was already injured, all chained down like a gift. I couldn't... I- look under the bed."

Etoiles does. Philza does not see his expression, and does not bother to pay attention to what Etoiles tells those treating Forever. He just... leans a little harder on Bad - earns an "oof" - and clings to one of the arms around him.

"Cold," is all Philza whispers.

Bad's arms tighten a bit.

"Guys," Bad calls. "I'm gonna get Philza back to the Order!"

Philza hisses.

Cellbit pauses, then, "we'll meet you there shortly."

"Before you pass out on me," Bad whispers to Philza and, okay, maybe Philza feels a little bit bad about that.

He doesn't want to make more problems. He just wants his family, and as he can't have his family, he wants to be sure his friends are okay.

"Favela," Bad reminds him.

Right, yes, warping.

His hands are shaking as he pulls out his warpstone, and Etoiles eyes are definitely worried as he watches the two leave.

---

As soon as he reaches the Favela, Philza has to grip the warpstone for support. A moment or two after Bad's arm crosses his back, providing what support he can.

They don't say anything until Philza is sat on one of the beds in the infirmary, a blanket around him and a mug of... something in his hands. He doesn't drink it, just holds it, and Bad seems willing enough to squirm on the chair while obsessively reviewing security footage.

Philza, honestly, cannot blame him.

"Forever will be fine," Philza says, trying to convince them both. "He always is."

Neither of them glance at the bed that has been Forever's so many times that they just leave it decorated with Richarlyson's art these days.

"Drink up," Bad says.

Begrudgingly, Philza does so. Worse, he feels better for the sweetened, warmed milk. He still keeps the blanket, and clings to the warm cup, but the cold is a little more tolerable now.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions?"

"What? And take Cellbit's fun away?" Bad cocks his head to one side. "No, we have enough details for now. Once Forever's up and about we'll worry about that."

"Might take a while," Philza frowns at the thought. "Idiot has a concussion, and a bad one at that."

"Ah, fudge," Bad switches to his communicator, presumably messaging the people left behind. "Maybe before then, then."

"Maybe."

They lapse back into the quiet as they wait for the others. It takes another five, maybe ten minutes, before they stumble through. Forever is, somehow, on his feet - if supported from both sides by Baghera and Cellbit. Etoiles quickly abandons the trio to come sit next to bad.

"You good?"

"Better," Philza tests the shoulder he knows got an arrow in it. "Stings like a bitch."

"Weakness potions do that, yes," he agrees.

Philza's eyes glance to Forever, also sat on a bed and offering a shaky smile and a shakier thumbs up.

"Idiot!" Philza calls over to him. "Don't let the fu-dging bear stab you next time!"

Forever just laughs, coughs up a little blood to Cellbit's panic and Baghera's eye roll, "but you came for me anyway!"

Nobody in the room is impressed to learn that Cucurucho had something to do with this. Philza can see their minds whirring, but everyone has the sense to restrain from saying it aloud.

"Always will, dumbass!" he replies.

Bad cuffs him on the knee for that. Forever, though, gives him a lopsided grin, ended only by the flinch as Baghera forces some drink or another on him.

By the time he is done with it, Forever looks about exhausted all over again. Reassured they let him sleep, though Baghera, Bad, and Cellbit all agree to take turns watching him for the night.

Head injuries, and toture, and all that.

"I guess I should be heading home then," Philza says as they work it out. "Thanks guys."

He tries to stand; Etoiles grabs him, and sits him back down.

"You're staying," he says. "You are not allowed to do that again. And, this way, you can see when Forever gets up again, no?"

Three other pairs of eyes seem to agree.

Philza is too tired to argue; he lies back down.

"Sorry for scaring you," he says, instead of a goodnight.

"Scaring me?" Etoiles replies, though he does not deny it.

"You've got nothing on this idiot," Cellbit provides. "At least you texted and didn't get kidnapped."

Bad just pats Philza's head, then wanders over to give the same to Forever, and then heads out to get some sleep before his Forever-sitting shift.

"Night," Philza pulls the blanket over his head, and pretends he doesn't hear the quiet talking all night.

[desiderium-eden]

Heads up, there is the cutest, teeniest baby goat you've ever seen guarding the sealed off portion of the castle, where Dmitri, Lazuli and Kyrie live.

His name is Stan. And he is the most vicious thing in all of Navka.

Trespassers be warned.

[sage-reads-things]

Way to kick a man while he's down Kyoichiro ahshdjahdkhsjahdka.

[halofcrged]

also, i am dealing with a big old brain slump and having dumb negative emotional things which are wholly imposter syndrome and depression related and not accurate i'm having a hard time convincing myself to write bc my brain is doing that whole nobody really likes your blog / writing / existence thing that happens and i know that's not true but brains are stupid, so right now i'm just letting a random number generator tell me what to reply to bc otherwise i'm just going to sit here and be miserable, so please know that i love you all and all the plots i have going with john mean the world to me and if i've been shitty about replying to memes / drafts / plotting or whatever it's absolutely not you it's just my brain being fucking stupid and ilu all.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[shiningclown69]

Stella is so funny in this panel she's just going off

"The AUDACITY of him to whine about not having a gf and then forgetting to respect his gf when he has one" she doesn't even wanna refer to his name 😭

Her sudden change in tone too...like

"Noooo baby you're really handsome and sweet 🥰😘😚 Unlike that NASTY, ANNOYING Riven 😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬" like she's about to punch this man for making Musa sad (again)

AND LOOK AT BRANDON DEFENDING RIVEN IM CRYINGGGG 😭😭😭😭

"You know what Riven is like....he has his 'off' days..." thats alot of off days no offense brandon

[factorialsfandoms]

Bad Things Happen Bingo is such good angst and that's why I'd like to request something LU with the prompt "You Said You Would Let Them Go". I think this might be the only one I request tho, cuz I'd be way too tempted to suggest other prompts too.

I have combined it with captivity! As a little treat. Hopefully this is fine. I tried from the other PoV, and... my brain died. Not that it didn't die with this, too, but it was happier with it! Sorry this took a bit, longfic is annoying even if these are more fun.

How long had they been here now, sat in this tank? It had been around noon when the trio had been taken; Wind and Legend had stayed with Twilight, still recovering from the wounds inflicted upon him by Dark Link, while the rest of the group went to explore the area. One moment they had been having lunch together, the next... Twilight was ashamed to say that whatever spell had been cast had immediately knocked him out; Legend had obviously lasted the longest of the three, with so many travels and resistances under his belt, but he had no idea how long either had lasted.

Legend long enough they had resorted to physical means of making him still, Wind not quite that long.

Their captor, a sorcerer dressed every bit his part, was sat on a dais nearby, pocket watch in hand. He did not bother to address his captives, but he was clearly waiting for... Something.

Meanwhile, Twilight had already tried everything he could think of to escape - and failed in every way. It would be embarrassing if the helplessness - again - and failure to protect his own - /again/ - were not so overwhelming.

Beside Twilight, Wind was wriggling where he sat; while he had managed to slip the rope on his hands, without lockpicks he could do nothing for the chains on his feet. Twilight knew that to be true, had seen him tear his fingers bloody trying to manipulate the locks without them - and even then, he had still managed to untie everyone else's hands.

Even Legend's, motionless but for shallow breathing and blood sluggishly pooling by his head though he was.

Twilight desperately wanted to check on him, but the chain around his ankle did not stretch so far. He had tried hacking at the glass, but with his hands alone, what could he do? And so instead he had talked Wind through turning the veteran onto his side. He was bleeding slowly enough that blood loss was not an immediate concern, but it made a garish stain across the bottom of the glass.

If they survived this, Twilight thought as he tore up his shirt to bind Wind's hands, if they survived this, they were never trusting strange old ladies promising the area was safe ever again.

But with no knowledge of if that would work, and with Legend too far across the cell for his manacles to reach, Twilight simply pulled Wind against his side, holding him close.

Two big eyes looked up at him, and Twilight was reminded of the children from the village; he squeezed the boy’s shoulder, trying to give a reassuring grin.

“We’ll be fine,” he promised. “I’ve gotten out of a cell like this before, and even if I can’t work it out the others will be here soon.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Wind’s eyes glanced to Legend; he clearly was. “I just want my stuff back.”

Twilight let him save face, patting his shoulder twice before slipping into a gentler hold.

From outside of the cell, their captor was watching them. The scars under Twilight's chainmail shifted uncomfortably; when he squeezed Wind's shoulder this time, it was more to try tease his own pain.

The sailor's fingers tightened on Twilight's, leaving his knuckles white.

"Only an hour left," the sorcerer grinned at them. "And then we'll see just how much you mean to him."

"They'll come for us," Twilight took the role of Collin, promising things that only faith could believe in. "I promise, the Old Man won't leave us hear to die."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Wind muttered back. "He'll do something stupid."

Fearing much the same, Twilight could not exactly blame him.

---

As time marched ever onwards, Legend occasionally stirred, but never woke. While Twilight was not a healer himself, he knew that with head wounds... Legend needed a doctor hours ago, and every passing minute made it only more desperate. At least he was stirring - some response was always more hopeful than none at all.

It had certainly been hours, now, though Twilight knew not how many; their captor was starting to get antsy, tapping the pocket watch.

Eventually, the ornate doors opened.

In stepped Time - and Twilight really hoped that he had hidden his sword in his bag, because it was certainly not being carried.

“You finally came,” their captor grinned.

With a snap of his fingers, a multitude of people and monsters - all in robes - crawled out of the woodwork. They gathered about on the edges, bows and arrows aimed at Time.

“I did,” Time seemed calm, but for the glance he threw the way of the trio. “Let them go, now; they have nothing to do with any of this.”

Their captor's grin faltered only for a moment, "let them go? And why would I do that?"

"Because I came alone, as promised," Time replied. "That was the deal."

"Hmm..."

"You said you would let them go," Time's voice had turned a touch desperate.

"I lied."

At Time's flinch, Twilight knew that this would be the end. Nobody else was coming; Time had not even said where he was headed, most likely. It could well be morning before anyone realised he was gone, especially searching for the rest of them that they likely were.

It was hours they did not have; Time lunged for the sorcerer, who stepped on a switch.

High, high above, water began to pour into the tank. In a scramble Wind pulled Legend from lying on the floor to being sat against the side of the tank, head raised higher even as he slumped on Wind’s shoulder. Large as the tank was it would still take a while to fill, 

Panic flickered over Time’s face - not a diversion, then - and the old man reached for his bag. From it, he drew a mask - his own face, maybe a little younger, with white eyes and white hair and the red and blue tattoos burning bright.

Their captor laughed, “what can a mask even do to me? Oh child lost in time, I will have your power for my own.”

“Boys,” Time’s words were calm - unnaturally so. “As soon as the glass breaks, I need you to run.”

Twilight wanted to object, he really did. But then he looked at Wind’s hands, bleeding through the rags, and where Legend lay, flinching from sudden pain but others still unresponsive.

He had to get the two of them to help first. Help, which meant the others - if Time was here already they had to be close-ish - and the others meant coming back for Time.

“I’ll come back for you,” Twilight promised.

Time did not even look at him as he pressed the mask to his face.

The room shook with Time’s agonised screams, the pitch shifting as his body twisted and transformed. Hearing the sound of the glass cracking, Twilight threw himself under the waterline - just in time, as the giant fish tank shattered. Glass exploded around the room, covering everything in shards.

Embedding themselves in people, too; Wind had somehow managed to cover Legend and protect himself from shrapnel at the same time, though both were now lying in the broken glass having fallen with the force.

Twilight did not look up until Legend was safely in his grasp.

When he did... The screams did not belong to Time any more.

They belonged to their captors, and to a white-haired, blank eyed /god/ that radiated fury stood in the place Time had been moments before.

The god stopped screaming and began to growl.

A growl that sounded very much like an order to /run/.

[futureboy-caseyjones]

He doesn't know how long he's been here

Katrina refused to let their experiments goes further until he was in better condition

*His neighbor taps lightly no real meaning behind the sound she just wants his attention*

*He sits next the wall and taps back* .-- .... .- - .----. ... / ..- .--. ..--..

-. --- - .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

-... --- .-. . -.. --..-- / -.-- --- ..- ..--..

…. --- -- . … .. -.-. -.- --..-- / .. / --. ..- . … …

--- .... ..--.. / -.. .. -.. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -- --- -- / -... .-. .. -. --. / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .-. . / - --- --- ..--..

-. ---

.. / .-- .- ... / - .- -.- . -.

--- .... / ... --- .-. .-. -.--

.. - .----. ... / ..-. .. -. .

-. --- / --- -. . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. --- - .. -.-. .

*They stop talking for the day after that*

[allegorism]

ohhhhhh, so your decisions DO matter at times.....

[neige-leblanche]

like. early fe takes a couple games to make you realize like "hey kaga why do so many little girls in your games get hypnotized and/or kidnapped" bc if you just play one it just comes off as a fantasy damsel-in-distress scenario, and then awakening & fates were like. "here is a loli character. you and i both know she is a loli character. what are you gonna do about it" and then the fe engage designs just scream to me "arent we so cuteeeee? there's nothing wrong here at all"