#long-ish post

[deeptravelerdelusion]

Fools of Guinevere

SAME DATE

it will be a busy September 19! For me at least...

some more stuff

their both barbie coded (for different reasons)

and here's one more

I'm aware that I posted these too early but it's better than too late! i think?

[starsickk]

soft launching my hearthian ocsss!!! one is a redesign and one clawed their way out of my brain cavity onto the canvas. the first one is lazurite, a painter, and the second is shale, an engineer/technician. they both joined the space program and neither of them do any actual work <3

[chelledoggo]

okay, so this may be a completely inconsequential thing that i'm reading entirely too much into, but... you ever notice how during stressful, emotional, or awkward moments, Ragatha will kinda... do these things with her hands/arms? like she'll fidget with her hands, rub her arm, hug herself, etc...?

it's kinda giving "self-soothing stimming" to me. as an autistic person, i sometimes do similar things with my arms when things are stressful or awkward.

like in this scene, after they return to the Candy Kingdom and Princess Loo is congratulating them. yeah, the ordeal is over, and Ragatha's smiling, but her nerves are very likely still frazzled from it all and this is her way of calming herself.

and of course she does something similar while she's giving her eulogy at Kaufmo's Funeral...

again i'm probably reading entirely too much into it, but this is giving off the vibes of a self-soothing stim she's developed to help her deal with everything she's dealing with and suppressing.

[sabo-torao]

Small disclaimer before you head in: this whole post will be referencing the TCB translation. I know VIZ handled the exchange I'm discussing differently, but I couldn't find anyone who talked about the original version and as a result I don't really know who is closer to the original meaning. In any case, the "analysis" should still stand. Whether Dragon was commenting Sabo's firmness or admiring his resolution, Sabo's still putting on a mask, and that's the point I'm trying to break down. Enjoy!

This very specific interaction between Dragon and Sabo in chapter 1083 has always stuck out to me.

"My, you really are unshakeable."

which is an appropriate response to what Sabo said, of course. What kind of sensitive person reacts that way to the death of an innocent, right?

Even so, I can't help but compare the thing Sabo said to his actual, genuine reaction to King Kobra's death.

He's devastated.

Sabo brokenly screams Kobra's name, and his expression is one of full despair; he never thought about killing Kobra, let alone letting him die. On the contrary, he actively tried to save him.

Kobra told him to just let him go, that he was dead weight and he shouldn't be concerned about him, but Sabo straight up refused. In fact, Kobra's actions read way more as a sacrifice than an inevitable death; the king let himself die, knowing that this way Sabo could flee and reach Vivi and Luffy safely.

On the Lulusian ship, we see Sabo think about Kobra's last words to him and actively trying not to cry (and failing).

That's not an unshakable man. He's suffering, he's grieving. He realizes he failed his very own mission of saving the king and lets the meaning behind Kobra's actions and words sink in.

It really puts his former reaction into perspective.

Sabo's firmness, seriousness and coldness in front of Dragon and Ivankov are nothing but a façade. He acknowledges that what he's about to say might come off as harsh, and that, even if he does feel sorry for Kobra, the tragedy doesn't weigh him down thanks to the results it brought, but it all sounds like he's reassuring himself more than actually showing his indifference.

Hell, he even drinks his glass of wine right after having said that "he doesn't really care". How can anyone take his words seriously?

And we've been knowing Sabo is inclined to do this sort of thing since Dressrosa; he acted all cool and composed in front of Luffy but the second Koala called him on the Den Den Mushi he was weeping, having a hard time believing that his little brother didn't punch him or hate him for being alive all along. He even denied he was crying!

All because Sabo hates being seen as vulnerable, especially in front of the people he thinks he has to be strong for (Luffy, Dragon, etc). It's something I think goes back to how his parents treated him, since they scolded him for, y'know, having emotions and being a normal kid in need of love, but i digress.

I once saw someone describing Sabo as a very cold person in comparison to his brothers, even going as far as to say that Sabo doesn't care if people die if it means achieving the Revolutionary Army's goals (using this very interaction as proof), which couldn't be further away from the truth.

Bonney even says outright that it's weird seeing a "radical revolutionary" act so friendly when Sabo helps her out. Why would he do this if all he ever did was for "The Cause"?

Yes, Sabo is ruthless, rude, violent at times, and his friendly demeanor could be seen as a little more volatile than that of his brothers', but he's not heartless. He's not a "meanings to an end" guy, he proves it time and time and time again, and it's disheartening seeing people label him as such.

Sabo is kind. He may not be as warm as Ace and Luffy, but he is fundamentally a good person. A generous, kind, caring, sensitive person.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it.

[awkwardosthe3rd]

Hey do you have any warriot cats designs?

Uhh yes? Do you mean like personal spins on official cats, or fan OC's of the series? :0 I probably got both tbf (some of this stuff is low quality, cuz I admittedly scouted it off of google, since some of my old Twitter stuff just kinda- vanished and I ain't gonna be digging up the old USB disk rn) Some older official book stuff:

And some fan OC and AU stuff

[serensama]

A Word with Friends: Of Houses, Hearts and Hidden things

Thank you @hedwigoprah for this game and @woundedsoul12 / @jenn2d2 for the word and tags! 1.8k long - not that bad for me!

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

Read on Ao3

Balter

to dance or tread clumsily, without particular grace or skill

———-

Antiva City, for all its opulence, had never felt so hollow.

A month into her six-month contract and Lilya had already memorised the shape of the villa’s ceiling in the dark. She knew which floorboard creaked by the kitchen and which tile was loose in the bathroom and constantly threatened to fall on her head when on the privy. Her cover was intact, her intel clean, and her presence here welcomed if not generally accepted. And yet… she moved around the city like a ghost, wandering aimlessly and close to tears.

Officially, she was here under the guise of a Rivaini mage, with expertise in rare weaves and magical dyes, called in to consult on restoring priceless ancient tapestries. She was hired and paid for discretion, as the goods were not the kind quite legally obtained.   

Unofficially, she was watching a trade dispute unfurl between two minor noble houses, Maronne and Divalos. The head of the Divalos family had hired them to look into House Maronne as they had been showing sudden, unexplained prosperity. Their trade deals had expanded overnight, and along with it, their security measures grew tighter. Whispers of odd shipments arriving through private ports in the dead of night, talk that servants who had been with the family for years were suddenly disappearing and replaced with help imported from Tevinter, often a red flag for Venatori activity. No one could confirm if the Venatori were involved yet, but the pattern was too familiar. If the Divalos’ were right and the Maronne family was aligning with old blood magic cultists, it wouldn’t just destabilise the local economy, it could ignite something much worse. 

It wasn’t her job to fight a war, let alone stop one single-handedly, only to report if one was brewing, unless the orders changed. She wasn’t even there to kill anyone. At least, not yet. The Divalos’ weren’t in the business of murder- not without just cause. Her instructions were clear: embed, observe, confirm. Wait for the order- if there was one.

But Viago hadn’t chosen her just because she could stitch wards into fabric or speak with a soft accent. He’d sent her because no one would question a foreign woman living quietly in a half-forgotten villa in the artisan quarter. Because she was someone who could vanish in plain sight. And maybe, because keeping her far from Treviso kept certain things from unravelling. Viago had called it a contract. But she knew better. It was an exile, temporary sure, but still exile- even when wrapped in silk.

She wasn’t sure if the mission had come before the fallout with Illario. Or if the mission was because of the fallout. There were still nights she wondered how thin the line was that Viago balanced upon, if he sent her there because she was valuable to its success or because she’d become a liability to him. The worst part of it was that she was there and he, they, were there and she couldn’t do anything to help. She just had to smile in the salons she was requested to attend, pass information through to Viago and the Divalos’ contact through coded stitch patterns, and wait for the name to land in her lap.

She may have been an idiot when it came to her life choices, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think that name wouldn’t be familiar. A name she recognised from so long ago, she even impressed herself. Stefania Andretti, formerly just Stefania. Slave under the ownership of the Vitelli Guild. The irony of her current contract being tied to the very job that introduced her to Illario in the first place was not lost on her.

That job was a success, of course, but things still went sideways. She had left the contract intact but not unchanged, and by the time they returned to Treviso, the distance between her and Illario was barely a memory, and their attachment was already tangled-  inextricably. 

---

The job had come directly from the Crown. Discretion was of the utmost importance. Failure, never an option. So, of course, the Crows had sent their best. One from each of the Eight Great Houses.

Seven Masters.

…And Lilya.

She knew she wasn’t chosen for her rank. She was a political inclusion, because everything Viago did was with purpose. She’d been chosen to show the kind of power her Talon had under his control. Where even his newest Crows could be considered on par with the other Houses’ best. Of course she’d been hated from the start, they’d assumed she was there for what she was once to Viago and not because of her talent… or perhaps they thought he’d snapped and finally wanted to stick it to his old man so he sent someone who’d screw up the contract. Maybe all of it, really. 

She had wanted to laugh when she was paired with Illario. Viago only gave her three instructions- don’t ever be in a room alone with the King, try to keep her being a mage as quiet as possible and keep away from Illario Dellamorte, he was Caterina’s grandson- craftier than people gave him credit for and more charming than they believed. Figures that she’d somehow manage to break one of his instructions without even trying. 

They worked surprisingly well together. Better than she expected, at least. He moved like someone born to do this, silent and observant, his hands always a second ahead of hers. She had been too reckless, too loud on a roof, baltering around instead of sneaking. It had nearly cost them their casualty-free entrance. But he caught her, adapted and distracted the incoming guards and led them safely down a different route… and he never once looked at her like she’d failed. 

When they finally found cover in an overgrown courtyard behind an abandoned villa, vines and lemon trees heavy with fruit that hadn’t been picked. She had expected a lecture from the Master. Or worse, silence.

Instead, he handed her a blood fig.

She looked at it, startled. Illario pushed it into her hand and quickly checked they were truly in the clear, only to return to her, still staring at the fruit in her hand. It was soft and warm from being in his pouch.

“These… this is my favourite,” she said before thinking, still looking at it like she expected for it to grow a head and start singing opera. 

“I know,” he replied, taking the fig and breaking it in half and handing her back the bigger piece. 

He didn’t say how he knew, but then again, she didn’t ask. They sat on the fountain’s edge and ate in the dark, and for the first time since the contract started, she let herself breathe. Illario had already seen her falter; there was no need to pretend she was perfect to save her Talon's face. The cold touch of almost failure was still fresh against her skin, but his warmth made it bearable. The sweetness had caught her off guard, from the fruit and Illario both. She could feel the juice on her chin, the sugar on her tongue. He was watching her as she wiped up the errant droplet and sucked it off her thumb. Not obviously. Just enough to notice.

It made something shift in her chest.

And then she almost kissed him… Stopping just close enough to feel the warmth of his lips feather over hers. She had just wanted to see what might have happened if she stopped pretending she didn’t want to. But it was a mistake, and she pulled away immediately. Viago was right; he was far more charming than anyone truly gave him credit for. 

“I… I apologise,” she said, voice low, already hating the way she sounded so young and pathetic. “My mistake for skipping dinner. Hunger makes me do ridiculous things.” 

Illario didn’t flinch. He merely smiled at her. “There are worse mistakes, don’t worry about it,” he said lightly.

It should’ve made her feel better. It didn’t. Because she knew him too well already, a few weeks spent together with barely any time apart and she could tell which expressions were real and which were part of his mask, the one everyone thought they knew so well, not realising that Illario Dellamorte was very careful to hide away the real parts of himself. Like this calm and collected reaction- it wasn’t real. There was something behind it, something quiet about it that looked a little like disappointment. 

He didn’t try to kiss her again, and she didn’t stay long enough to see if he would have.

She had been warned. Illario wasn’t just another Crow. He was the First Talon’s blood, Caterina’s grandson. If she touched him and it meant something, it wouldn’t just be her head on the line. It would be all of theirs. 

---

Lilya blinked after pricking herself with a needle because of her lack of concentration. She had been warned years prior, and… Well, shit. She really didn’t learn, did she? 

Now, five years later, she found herself living in the once-abandoned villa, back in that same courtyard, the scent of lemon and earth thick in the air. The vines had grown longer. The fountain was more cracked. But the memory hadn’t dulled at all. She rested a hand on the edge of the stone and let herself think of him. Just for a second.

He was probably in Nevarra or Tevinter by now. Doing whatever it took to make peace with Caterina. Or he was in Treviso. Probably smiling at the girl she’d picked out for him, the one with the right name, the right background and connections, the right everything. If he were smart… he’d just do it. Make it easier for both of them, and she’d return to the news of their engagement or marriage, or with how quickly Illario worked, their pregnancy. 

“But Paloma… we may also live.” 

No. He wasn’t smart at all. He was as stupid as she was. Stupider really. 

Lilya yelled and threw her embroidery across the yard. It had only been one month, and she was already going stir crazy. She still had five months to go… unless, for some reason, the contract had to be extended. Groaning as she stood, Lilya took a breath and stepped away from the fountain, stopping to pick up the piece she had been working on and wiping off the dirt. The contract wasn’t finished. It didn’t matter what she felt.

Her feelings wouldn’t keep her alive… but maybe his would. 

She hated it. She felt so useless, she hated not being able to help Illario with whatever he thought needed to be done and help Viago with whatever mess he was left holding when he sent her away. But all she could do was stay, finish the mission, and avoid making things worse. Further embarrassing the Crows and Viago by failing a simple mission, sure as hell wouldn’t change what had already passed, only further securing her position as Caterina’s most wanted. Dead or… Dead.

Lilya looked at her latest message to Viago. 

Nothing new. Surveillance. Stefania. Update next week.

Maker, she hated sewing.  

---

Softly tagging: @rookamell @davrinsleftpectoral @kabsey @mythals-whore @themontess @brennacedria @jukkaricity @selennes @serstolas @obsessed-with-book-boyfriends @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @basedonconjecture @the-sparrohawk @trash-nerd @the-font-bandit @gingervitus and anyone else who wants to play <3

[plaguedpriest]

since you're in at least act 5 of homestuck, I feel like you've met enough characters to form some opinions... who's your least favorite and most favorite character and why? (also what classpect do you think you'd be? :P)

HIIIII yes i'm on act 5 act 2 right now!! (specifically after the tavros/grandpa harley reveal happens. i haven't gotten to murderstuck yet)

my favorite is jade by far!!!!! i find her very tragic and relatable so far and she gives me paternal feelings... i also like terezi (she's funny) and davesprite (i was obsessed with fern from adventure time as a kid. can you tell) a lot. i'm also a huge carapacian/midnight crew glazer 🫡

tbh i don't think there's a single character i dislike so far, just ones i don't care much nor have a strong opinions about (like Sollux cuz he hasn't really done much in the story yet)

anyways here's a tier list for more character thoughts

as for classpecting. i remember taking the hiveswap extended zodiac quiz a million times as a kid and i always got hope, and it's def still the aspect i identify with the most from what i've read about

i don't know as much about classes and they're certainly a lot more complicated but from what i've read i identify most with rogue or mage methinks

[branchynaps]

a baby waddle dee, drawing over an important legal document: wa

dedede, nodding his head solemnly: so true bestie

bonus: