#FOR the record: this is an extremely lighthearted comment

[kjscottwrites]

Nano being in November really is so silly, they're like "this aligns with zero academic breaks, starts right when seasonal depression hits, and also it's time to start worrying about traveling and gift giving for the holidays" like come on 😅 u are all so brave

[dr-spectre]

My Splatoon Idol Headcanons!

Im so normal about them, like totally...... (note, some of them may be more serious than lighthearted so keep that in mind. i have warned you.)

Callie

Has ADHD 

Got a permanent version of the octopus tattoo that she keeps hidden with make-up when on stage. She sees it as a reminder that she has grown and to always believe that she is loved and to never listen to the dark thoughts that lie in her head

Hides most of her issues from everyone no matter how big or small because she’s scared to upset her family and friends. She'll only tell what's going on with her if someone REALLY presses her about it 

Always talks to Frye after each Splatfest loss to make sure she’s okay. She cheered extremely loudly when Team Bucket List won

Can be kind of clingy around her friends and family 

Marie

Is on the autism spectrum but has not told anyone due to feeling shame about it 

Considers Agent 3 family and treats them extremely nicely. She knew what happened to them in the Deepsea Metro

Massive Pokémon fan 

Constantly worries about Callie and was told by her that she willingly left with the Octarians. Marie checks up on her every day and needs to make a call with her otherwise she’ll get fidgety and restless 

Best friends with Marina and Big Man and they hang out when their schedules all line up

Pearl

Used to have an eating disorder that affected her health badly before she met Marina, she is currently working on eating better with Marina's help

Feels guilt and shame over being very rich and tries to do all she can to help out less fortunate people via charity and music 

Has sleeping problems and needs Marina to be in the same bed with her to fall asleep 

She still keeps up with the heavy metal scene and loves seeing new artists pop up

Loves outer space and being high in the air

Marina

Is on the autism spectrum and has told Pearl about it which she accepts and still loves her all the same

Wears her headphones as much as she can because she’s very sensitive to certain sounds and other sensations. If she becomes too overstimulated, she needs Pearl’s help to calm her down 

She loves to ramble on social media about her special interests and machinery

Is a workaholic and doesn’t like to relax for long periods of time, she must be doing something 

Wants to adopt Eight as her child but she hasn't gotten around to it or asked Eight about it due to her schedule

Shiver

Has a strained relationship with her father and mother and has low contact with them 

Has an addiction to juice and can chug down several boxes of it every day, she has kept this addiction hidden from Frye and Big Man but they have noticed an odd amount of juice boxes in the garbage 

Seeks companionship and deep connections with people badly but hides it with a cold exterior because she's scared of getting hurt or betrayed. She sometimes cries at night because she thinks she’s all alone and wants to be held 

Was an extreme perfectionist at high school and would get upset if she got decent or poor grades

Wears pajamas all the time at home and isn't the most hygienic 

Frye

Has a plushie collection that she keeps on her bed 

May have ADHD but she has not gotten a diagnosis for it yet 

Has issues with analysis paralysis and can never decide things easily 

Can be a bit too overbearing with her siblings but she means well and loves them to death 

Is deep down insecure about her appearance from seeing comments about her body online and trains her body constantly to feel good about herself 

Big Man

Is constantly overworked and wishes he could just relax

Has a vinyl collection where he has boxes upon boxes of vinyl records 

Is secretly a big fan of Off the Hook and the Squid Sisters 

He’s a pro bowling player and takes it VERY seriously even amongst friends 

Hates getting into arguments and gets very emotional even at the slightest of criticisms 

[once-upon-a-stolas]

Here’s the one, guys. The one that I’ve been waiting for and I know a lot of you have been waiting for, and we should talk about all the things that have happened in the interim, we should view these through the the lens of the Kendraws screenshots, Millie’s brother, the transandrophobia/ableism screenshots...

We’re not going to be doing any of that. Not today. Let me have the memory of this one.

This incident starts off with Blitzo, undisguised and in plain view, being spotted and photographed by a human in the living world. To say that Stolas is annoyed would be a gross understatement; he’s pretty fuming, not even remotely playing around. It’s quite possibly the angriest we ever see him become, with the possible exception of the time a commenter suggested he rape Blitzo.

Now, before we get to the good part, it has to be said how important this is, because it speaks volumes regarding Before!Stolas and Blitzo’s arrangement regarding the grimoire. This was all taking place pre-Murder Family, and as said many times before on this blog, without expecting anything in return. Stolas simply allowed Blitzo to use his grimoire because he liked him, and in these posts, we see that his only condition was this: that Blitzo not do anything foolish with it. A condition Blitzo, being Blitzo, breaks.

That being the case, Stolas shows up at I.M.P.’s office, waiting for hours in the office to have a serious talk with Blitzo, who avoids him until Stolas makes it clear why he’s interrupting work hours, at which point Blitzo lets him in immediately.

And here’s, of course, where things get fun.

Blitzo lets Stolas lecture him for a while, and then whips out a remote controlled vibrator. Stolas is surprised, but needless to say, delighted. Blitzo is delighted. You’re delighted, I’m delighted, everyone’s delighted. The only one not enjoying this is Moxxie. 

(The commenters are also delighted, and that’s not a good thing. Just a quick scroll reveals that there are a lot of very, very young people in this crowd. I’d say at least half of them have no idea what’s going on here.)

Stolas would be within his rights to get extremely upset over this, but after all is said and done, he just tells Blitzo that he’s lucky he’s cute. Blitzo flirts back at him, saying Stolas is lucky Blitzo wasn’t recording him, Stolas is aflutter, and all is forgiven.

So, what does this very lighthearted, extremely fun incident tell us about Before!Stolas and Blitzo’s relationship? A couple of key things.

1. Blitzo and Stolas’s sexual encounter was not a one-off deal; the only way that this is able to take place is if Stolas is wearing a vibrator 24/7. 

2. Blitzo enjoys his sexual relationship with Stolas. He enjoys teasing him and is comfortable enough around him to do so.

3. Because the full moon deal doesn’t apply, they’re both doing this for no other reason than they want to.

We now know, by Vivzie’s own admission and the admissions of people who were close to her, that Vivzie writes by the seat of her pants and frequently changes things on a dime. We know, for instance, that Present Day!Stolas and Blitzo being childhood friends was a last moment pivot based on a piece of fanart she liked. This is, of course, not the way to write a coherent story, but it explains everything about Stolas’s wildly inconsistent characterization. The Stolas we saw bleeding out in today’s episode, love him or loathe him, is a completely different character than the Stolas who once crossed his legs and went brrrr.

And that’s why, the further away we get from that summer of 2020, the more important it becomes to me that that briefly lived iteration of Stolas is remembered for who he was, and his romance with Blitzo remembered for what it was. Because it was trusting, playful, healthy.

And it had remote controlled vibrators.

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 11)

Rating: V for violent?

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Canon-level violence, Dark themes, Foul language, (small emetophobia warning because I get it)

A/N: Yikes, sorry guys. This one is a bit painful, both in terms of writing calibur and plot points. I've been dragging my heels because I just can't seem to get it right but what the hell. Enjoy this slice of angst. In honour of Shadow and Bone S2, see if you can spot the six of crows reference. As usual, reblogs get a kiss (muah). Comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the continued support. Love ya.

You had your elbows propped on the back of his chair, on either side of the helmet, staring over its reflective surface at the nav computer in front of you.

“There’s nothing there.” Not a planet, not an asteroid field, not even a hint of scrap metal within radius of the destination. The coordinates supplied by Karga were leading you all the way to the Outer Rim, to quite literally the middle of nowhere.

Din sighed, a tired action, his body heaving with the effort. “It could be a small moon maybe… something that hasn’t been mapped?”

“The galaxy’s been mapped, Din. All of it.”

“Sometimes planets will get deleted from records, especially if there’s something worth hiding.”

The sarcasm was laughably evident in your retort. “Fantastic! I am so excited.”

He chuckled and twisted in the pilot’s seat, relying on your loss of balance to pull you across the arm and into his lap. You didn’t even try to pretend that it was against your will. There had been more of this recently… overt touches, advances… flirting. And he was relentless with it. You were getting the feeling that he understood now, extremely well, just how much of an effect he had. And he was starting to take advantage of it.

“We’ll be fine.” The low vibration of his voice seemed to travel up your spine. And oh so easily… just like that, you believed him.

His hand played with the hem of your shirt, before dipping underneath it and up— cradling your spine with a broad palm. He was warm and calloused despite the gloves, a perfect reflection of his dichotomy. Violent and unforgiving with his enemies, soft and affectionate with his family.

“I miss Grogu.” 

Caught up in the drama and the intensity of the past couple days, you had started to crave that lighthearted, bubbly energy. It was a much-needed part of your dynamic. 

“Everything goes well… we’ll be back with him in a few hours.” You smiled inwardly at the thought. He’d coo and babble at the two of you; you might even be able to sense his displeasure at being left behind for such a long time. But—

“What happens to…” You motioned between you and him. “…this?”

The helmet cocked to the side. “This?”

“Yeah, this. Us.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting in his hold. “We have to be careful with him around, right?” He was poking at the edge of your bandage, a sign of bashfulness perhaps.

“How much does he know?” Din asked, as if he expected you to have an answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes he looks at me with these eyes, like he sees it all. Like he understands it.”

“It?” You could see all of hyperspace reflected in his visor.

“You should ask him.”

“That’s not really how it works.” His hand was tracing circles over your back. He hummed, a desire for clarification. “I can get emotions from him, and he gets them from me. Especially stronger ones. We can’t actually… talk.”

He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. 

“So, if I were to…” The hand under your knees then crept around your thigh, up and towards the inside, so dangerously close to where you were still aching for him.

You clamped down on his hand, pushing it back. “Okay, so we really have to be careful.”

Din’s hold tightened around you, and you could practically feel the grin on his features. “You going to sneak around with me, cyare?”

Oh, you would. Kriff yes, you would. 

Hours later, the hyperspace exit was abrupt. You were both strapped into your respective seats, Din manning the controls. You noted the hand he kept firmly on the front cannon triggers, and the tension he held between his shoulder blades.

But it was quiet ahead. An expanse of brilliant stars only interrupted by a small figure in the distance. Asymmetrical. Not a planet. You fidgeted uncomfortably in your seat. In a few minutes you had gained on the stationary object.

“…It’s a ship.” Slight damage, no thrusters, no movement, not even any light visible from the exterior. Almost as if it had been abandoned.

“EF76.” Din turned his head to you. “Nebulon-B Frigate.” Your tongue was caught between your teeth. “I don’t like this.” The thing probably had long range sensors. Whoever was on board, if there even was anyone on board, already knew you were here. It was much too late to turn back now. 

“But those were old rebel cruisers, right?” Din queried.

You were stiff as a board beside him. “The rebels used them in the war… but they were originally built for the Imperial Navy.” Leaning forward a touch and surveying the several levels of the vessel, you whispered: “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one.”

The Razor Crest did a wide circle around the craft, once, Din then advancing to survey the long bridge.

“I can’t see a thing. Scanners are picking up life forms though.”

You leaned forward. “How many?”

“Not sure, I can’t get any readings on the lower sections. All I see are seven.” He turned his helmet a fraction of an inch. “What do you think?”

Again. There was that insistent desire to turn and run. Self-preservation. A habit that had stuck over the decades. But it was silly, wasn’t it?

“It’s a job.” Din nodded once in agreement. “So let’s finish it.”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment before guiding the ship forward once more, in search of a docking port. But you weren’t looking out into space anymore. You were looking at him.

You could see flashbacks in the reflection of his helmet. Rain on Sorgan, drenching the huts, soaking your clothes, running in tiny rivers down your face as you jogged to him.

“Wait!”

He’s loading the cart with weapons— knives, pistols, rifle— but he stops in his tracks. His back remains to you, but you can tell you have his attention. The child floats in his pram, eyes open, ears perked, head tilted curiously. He is adorable.

Perhaps your silence has stretched too long because the Mandalorian turns to you. The rain makes a soft pinging sound against his armour. You have to blink it out of your eyelashes.

“Yes?” It’s monotone, almost cold. Almost.

The fabric of your shirt is sticking to your skin. You are shy, hesitant even, when you speak.

“I can help you.” 

He just stands there. Unmoving. You can’t tell where he’s looking… what he’s thinking. It’s unusual. You shrink under his scrutiny. Perhaps he thinks you’re silly, small, pathetic, useless—

“Yes.” He shifts his weight. “I could use someone with your… talents.”

You try not to let the relief show in your posture. You had expected him to deny you outright.

“…But a life here is peaceful… safe. With me, it won’t be.” 

“I know.” You blurt, before considering your words. He cocks his head to one side. “I mean, I understand.” One step closer. “I want to help.”

Some time later, when you arrive on the ship, and the engines ignite in a purr, he asks you—

“Are you sure?”

The haze broke, and you were staring once again at the looming ship, an open loading dock.

“Yes.” The word was unconvincing on your lips. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ship creaked, a hollow banging echoing through the hull as she docked. You were sweating.

Din relinquished the controls, and you straightened as he stood, turned, and stopped before you.

“Hey,” He had tilted your chin up with a finger. “You can stay. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Your bones protested as you rose from the jump seat. You felt weary. “Like hell I’m letting you go in there alone.”

He looked at you like he was about to insist… then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he slid his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You stay behind me, got it.” You nodded, throat suddenly heavy with something. “And if I tell you to run, you kriffing do it.” 

You wouldn’t be running. Not unless he was alongside you. “We’ll be fine.” It was the only response you gave, a mirror of his own words. You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

It was dark. There had been no greeting party as the two of you had scaled the ladder into the Frigate, so you were left to wander down the dimly lit halls, lined only along the edges of the floor with cold white light.

Din kept you behind him, as promised. The blaster had left his hip holster before you had even disembarked from the Crest. The passageway was a labyrinth, and after several minutes of walking, you briefly voiced your concern to Din.

“Will we be able to find our way back to the ship?”

He faced forward as he answered. “My footprints leave residue; I can track them back.” Both of your voices were hushed, and you weren’t entirely sure why.

You passed another four-way intersection, and Din scanned each branch before letting you continue. But something stopped you dead centre, a feeling, a nostalgia. A familiar presence. Your head snapped to the left. Din was still walking forward, unaware of your halt.

Curiosity, purpose, and perhaps even fear led you down the new path. You were only alerted to Din’s proximity when he called your name.

“What is it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the beat everywhere. “I don’t know, just…”

When a cantina band plays, often their music will crescendo at its climax, a rumbling, near deafening hum that seems to permeate both eardrums and settle somewhere in the middle of the brain. You felt that then, though no song was audible.

You crept forward, slowly now, into another intersection… past it. Din guarded you from behind, three possible angles of attack. He scanned them all, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, his back squarely to you. He hadn’t noticed how much distance had opened between the two of you.

A blast door sealed with a deafening bang, followed by a low hydraulic hiss. 

You both turned, neither of you in time. A small square window was set in the middle of the door, and you pounded on it with your fist. You yelled. Could he hear you? Was he saying something? You couldn’t hear him.

But he spun away sharply, and you looked past him, over his shoulder, to the line of soldiers that had appeared at the end of the hall. They knelt, blasters raised. Stormtroopers.

A mistake. It was a mistake.

“Din!” You threw your body against the glass… once… twice. More appeared from each side. He was surrounded. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t even remember that you shouldn’t be yelling his name.

Each of the troopers held Imperial standard-issue blasters… 13 red sights pointed at the chest of the person you loved most in the galaxy. 

You ran. Sprinted. Taking three rights in an effort to double back on yourself, to ambush the troopers from behind. You were met only with another closed door. Panic. 

Anguish, despair, desperation, hopelessness, confusion, frustration. Again… fear.

Because all of sudden, Din wasn’t the only one in trouble.

“You’ve grown.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You knew that voice. You heard it often enough in your nightmares— laughing, taunting.

You wouldn’t turn, perhaps out of a desire to hold onto ignorance, to not be able to confirm with your eyes what you already knew to be true.

“Look at me.” The words were mockingly soft, sweet. “I want to see your face.”

Your body seemed to obey on its own.

He stood a few paces down the hall, in an immaculately tailored Imperial uniform, hands clasped behind his back, flanked by troopers. He sighed, as if in contentment.

You could have dispatched him in any number of ways. Force choke, snapped neck, vibroblade to the gut. But that was the funny thing about trauma.

An assault of memories came flooding back, fresh as ever. Torture, blood, cruelty, promises. A crashing ship, a brutal kill. Palpatine’s loyalists.

Impossible.

“You died.” You were shaking. “I killed you.”

He smiled, as if it were all a practical joke. “I’m afraid you simply didn’t cut deep enough, my dear.”

Your brain didn’t have enough time to catch up. By the time you had processed that he was alive, by the time you decided you would just have to try again, just have to kill him better this time, troopers had already seized you by the shoulders, slapping a thick pair of cuffs on your wrists.

No. No. Not this. Not again. You might have been screaming, thrashing like a wild animal, as the Stormtroopers dragged you down the hall, further away from Din. 

Din, who might already be dead.

When you reached the control room, you were strung up in a forcefield of glowing blue magnets, an extra set of cuffs fastened around your ankles. Soldiers lined the room, and he stood at the front, directly ahead of you.

“Let the Mandalorian go.” It came out breathless, desperate, despite your efforts to project some sense of authority.

He took a step toward you, reaching out to cradle your face. You couldn’t even rear back, the magnets having rendered you entirely immobile. “He’ll be alright. I give you my word.”

You spat. “Why would I ever trust anything you say?”

He circled you predatorily, the pale pink scar across his throat stark in the ship’s cool light. You had done that.

“Because… he brought us our bounty.” His smile was lecherous. “The Mandalorian will be well rewarded.”

Our bounty.

No.

It was never about the crystal.

It was about you. You were spinning. And still, he was talking as if it were a conversation between old friends.

“You’ll forgive me if I monologue a touch? It’s been quite a while since we caught up.”

“You haven’t given me much of a choice.” The containment field was making you feel scrambled, the room going in and out of focus. You could feel your eyelids drooping, muscles going limp.

A sharp electric jolt seared through your wrists, eliciting a gasp from you. 

“Painful, isn’t it?” He was smiling. “A Geonosian invention actually… and quite effective, especially on force wielders.” You were still trying to recover. “Forgive me, the extra shocks aren’t necessary, but I want you awake for this.”

“So, the crystal.” He motioned with his hands, almost exuberantly. “The Emperor had sourced it for you prior to his… disappearance.” The wording was careful, deliberate. “He knew it would call to you. It was almost too easy.”

Din.

Where was Din?

“All I had to do was plant it. Put some rumors out about its value… the whereabouts. I knew it would cause quite an upheaval. And I suspected you would find it in the process.” His grin was pure malice. “Or rather… It would find you.”

He paused, a curious look in his eyes. “It does call to you, doesn’t it?” He found his answer in your silence, a nod and wistful smile before he continued.

“The Mandalorian was an interesting addition to the equation. I never expected you would have kept such peculiar company.”

You were fading out again, his voice getting farther and farther away. Another jolt pulled a hoarse scream from you.

“Sorry, dear. As I was saying… Can you believe we came so close only a few years back? When Moff Gideon ran into your… travel companion.” Again, another particular choice of words. “Yes, I was close by. Gideon and I were well acquainted. I couldn’t believe you were alive. That you had survived the crash.” There was happiness in his voice, excitement even. It made you nauseous.

You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to know how you’d been played… walked Din right into a trap because you couldn’t see it coming. Too blinded by—

“I wondered if it might cause issues for us. I had heard about the… many talents of Din Djarin.”

He knew his name.

“But I never expected him to be so reasonable! Triple the value of the crystal… that’s what he wrestled out of me, but it was worth it. You are worth it.” His smile was so broad it might have ripped a hole through his cheeks. “You will be. How many times have I told you. You’re the future.”

Triple the value.

He had bought you.

Din had sold you.

It felt as if the blood had stopped flowing to your brain. Like your lungs could no longer draw breath. As if your heart had been unceremoniously gutted from your chest. It couldn’t be true. 

“You don’t believe me.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic. “You will. It may take some time… but you’ll understand. When he doesn’t come for you, you’ll understand. We are all you have. I am all you have.”

You couldn’t yell. Couldn’t let a tear fall in his presence. You wouldn’t. Instead, you let the magnetic field pull you under… further and further… until you could no longer feel the zaps of electricity that he sent to revive you. Until you could no longer feel anything at all.

You knew this game. Knew how to numb yourself just enough, physically and mentally, to be less aware of the pain you knew he was so capable of inflicting. Perhaps that had been your problem all along. You had softened, thawed… let someone in. And look what good had come of it.

You were right back where you started. 

Din stood still in a hall of bodies. 

Thirteen men he had killed, and then he had thrown himself against the blast doors, again and again, the thick thudding sound of his body against metal seeming almost like a mockery. He had then tried the darksaber, igniting it and attempting to melt his way through. But they were solid, airtight, probably a few inches longer than the blade itself, meant to withstand the outside pressure of space.

It had been a trap, of course it had been a kriffing trap, and he had lost you.

Lost you.

He had lost you.

He might be panicking. Hyperventilating. He needed to pull himself together. And he needed a plan.

If whoever was in charge could spare that many men just to deal with him, there must be many more aboard the vessel. A hidden crew. They had known he would try to read heat signatures. Stormtroopers. Empire. Fuck. He had been so stupid to lead you here, put you in harm’s way. He should have thrown the bounty back in Karga’s face, told him to find someone else, flown you and the kid to Naboo.

He should’ve…

He couldn’t take them all himself. He couldn’t even get through this damned door. And he was no good to you dead. He needed backup. Fast. Someone he could trust. More than someone. He turned.

The Mandalorian had to wrestle with every fibre of his being, every protective instinct, every thought commanding him to go back as he scaled the ladder of the loading dock, and re-entered the Razor Crest, alone. He fought with himself as he engaged the thrusters and disconnected from the frigate. He cursed each choice he had made, setting events slowly in motion, as he steered the old ship away and typed in the hyperspace calculations. 

By the time he made the jump, and tore the helmet off, tears were tracking over his cheekbones, dripping off the edge of his chin. He stood and spun, punching a dent into the cockpit doors. 

Din screamed, and the hoarse sound echoed through the empty ship.

Sorgan’s natural sounds are like a strange sort of melody. Almost a lullaby.

You are lying on a grassy knoll, staring up at the stars, folded into a warm body that you know the feel of. Intimately.

Grogu’s cry of delight comes floating on a phantom wind and all of a sudden you can see him, cradled in Din’s arms, fixing you with a confused stare. Like he doesn’t recognize you at all.

“I told you I would do anything to protect him.” The Mandalorian’s words are matter of fact. Barely apologetic. “He is my family.”

There is warmth on your hands. Then pain… searing pain. Blood everywhere. Thick magnetic cuffs around your wrists. And your ankles. You don’t have the energy to put up a fight. 

“I thought I was too.”

He doesn’t reply. Just fixes you with that unreadable stare of his.

You awoke and vomited over the polished floor of your holding cell.

The suns were casting a sickeningly warm glow across the table, laid with fat fruits, cured meats, goblets of rich liquid.

He stood at the head, fists curled at his side, trying to calm the deafening silence in his head enough to speak stably.

“You owe me.” He was shaking. “I’m here to call in that favour.”

Fennec Shand stood slowly from her seat, dinner long forgotten.

“Djarin.” Her voice had an uncertain timbre to it. “Where is your girl?”

Boba Fett had pushed back from the table as soon as Din had entered the room. The Daimyo was already reaching for his weapons. 

A promise of blood to be spilled.

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[cephalopodvictorious]

If your comment on knock off versions was a joke, disregard this. If not, I'm arguing: Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins was published in 1989. How The Grinch Stole Christmas was published in 1957. If anything was a knock off version of the other, it definitely wasn't that the Grinch is cribbing. And I don't actually think their themes are that similar, nor are the villains, despite superficial similarities of "people celebrate their winter religious holiday despite interference from monsters." The goblins want to eat Hershel, not stop Chanukah. Overall, looking past the lighthearted children's stories, the two reflect extremely difficult cultural fears. Christians are worried their traditions are becoming less meaningful in an era of increasing commercialism. And like, sure, it's not like we don't feel that way about Chanukah, but also Jews (and HatHG) remain worried that we will all be killed and there will be no one left in the places we lived who can continue our traditions.

You're right about the dates, and the "knockoff" bit was a half-joke made over my morning coffee. Mostly I'm talking about social role with regards to "popular kid's stories around the holiday" (where I live, at least) but I'll push back about your analysis of the themes

The goblins invade the synagogue and refuse to allow the villagers to celebrate Hanukkah, even in their own homes. Herschel comes to town and sees that they're too afraid to celebrate, and if they try, they are attacked by goblins. They are very much a stand-in for real antisemitism.

I'm focusing more on that discussion about how a "Grinch" is someone who doesn't like christmas, an outsider's perspective, and how that story had been weaponized by "war on xmas"/secular xmas believers against non xtians.

I know what Seuss has said about why he wrote it, and I know that he said that it's about commercialism, but in the modern context, consider:

It is a story about some visibly distinguishable as "other" who isn't human and who hates Christmas for no reason other than that it's loud and ubiquitous, so he tries to ruin their holiday and stop them from celebrating, but their love of the holiday runs deep and he is swayed into joining them through their displays of unwavering faith, and now he celebrates Christmas.

And in the context of that post I left the tags on, someone was telling Jews that they define a "Grinch" as "someone who hates Christmas". I've heard this take for years, often from completely well-meaning people, that any refusal to celebrate xmas makes us inhuman creatures with hearts described as "two sizes too small".

We live in the times of "a war on xmas". I have twice this year been told that I'm "a bit of a Grinch" because I think that mid-November is too early for all the radio stations to play nothing but xmas music, and for responding to "merry christmas" with a trite "happy hanukkah" (to someone who knows that I'm Jewish, again, in November). They genuinely believe that my refusal to participate is me trying to stop them from celebrating, and I'm infringing on their right, and that if I just appreciated joy and opened up my (tiny) heart I could know true happiness. They genuinely feel that they're oppressed.

This is to say nothing of the fact that while Seuss said it was based on him and his own disdain for commercialism, this is also from a man whose racial sensitivity track record is. not great to say the least, and while I'm not saying it was deliberate, I am saying that unconscious biases exist.

[mollykeaneyviscom]

Major Project - Contemporary Research

Something I've been struggling with is keeping this project fun and lighthearted. Initially, when I came up with the starting point of growing up too quickly, I knew it wasn't likely to be funny, but I felt like it would be sweet and relatable. The idea of making letters grow up too fast and playing with what that could look like tugged at my heartstrings. However, the more I've researched, I've found a lot of serious issues related to a phrase that is often used as a jokey euphemism.

Anna Ginsburg - Private Parts

Anna Ginsburg is one of my favourite contemporary practitioners and has been one of my biggest inspirations over my time on this course. I love all the work she creates and am hugely envious of her illustration and animation skills. Something she does beautifully is draw on somewhat mundane, unrecognised things, make them beautiful and give them the attention they deserve. Her project Private Parts came from her realising her friends did not share her confidence in self exploration and pleasure, in fact they all cringed when she talked about it so openly and more her feel bad about it. She noticed this pattern that within society talking openly about sexual pleasure, particularly women's masturbation is extremely taboo, and that shame surrounding the subject massively contributed to the pleasure gap between men and women. To combat this issue Anna recorded interviews with her friends talking about sex, masturbation, anatomy etc, and turned them into the beautiful and comical video, Private Parts. She had 11 other animators collaborate with her, each given a section of the audio to create their own visuals for. The variety of voices and visual styles is what makes the video so special, and especially relatable. As this type of project is something I would love to work on I was wondering if there was any way of implementing this into my own work.

As I was thinking of ways to show growing up through type, I was thinking more broadly about the ways in which we grow up. I have always talked about the way we grow up at university. These three years create a sort of bridge between adolescence and adulthood. We are all adults of course but if you ask any of us most of us have no idea what we're doing most of the time/what we want to do after uni. I think this experience is incredibly real and relatable but not widely discussed. Where it is discussed is conversations between friends. Over our time at uni I have watched my friends grow in varied and incredible ways, we are all very different people to who we were three years ago. I would love to record interviews and conversations among friends discussing our experiences of growing up at university. I also think its interesting to see what advice we would give our freshers selves, as this is probably not far off of what our future selves would want to tell us now. We are still not fully grown, this point is hard to define as you never really stop growing up. I think raising this point during the video would also be really lovely, while we feel far more grown up now, we are still so young and have so much left to learn.

[storiesforallfandoms]

the best interview ever ~ pete davidson

word count: 1745

request?: yes!

“I’d love for you to write something about Pete Davidson flirting with a journalism student who’s interviewing him and her just being all shy and stuff, just fluff!”

description: in which he finds the shy journalism student interviewing him extremely adorable

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

From the moment you walked in the room, Pete’s eyes were glued to you. You noticed him look you up and down when you walked in first and tried to hide your face so he wouldn’t see that you were blushing.

“Well hello,” he said. “Are you my interviewer?”

“I am! My name is (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”

You sat across from him, hoping it wasn’t as obvious that you were shaking as it felt. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I feel like I should warn you that this is my first solo interview, so I’m sorry if it’s super awkward.”

“Are you telling me that I’m popping your interviewing cherry?” Pete asked.

You chuckled and nodded. “I’m actually still a journalism student. I’ve shadowed some interviews, but this is my first actual interview.”

“That’s awesome!”

You smiled as Pete raised a hand to you. You high fived him and felt any stress or nervousness you had slowly start to melt away.

Pete’s chill demeanor felt so much different than any of the interviews you had shadowed. Although, it wasn’t hard to be more chill than CEOs and local politicians, which were the only people you had encountered so far. Pete was the first actual celebrity you had met, which made you extra nervous, but so far he was doing a good job at easing your nerves.

Since this was your first solo interview, you had done a lot of research on Pete and his new movie to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself. You had two and a half pages in your notebook filled with questions to ask as well as little facts you felt like you should know. You hadn’t even done this much research for school projects, which was hot you knew you were serious about this.

Pete’s eyes glanced at your notebook as you opened it, a small smile crossing his face. “Damn, you’re already more prepared than most people who have interviewed me before.”

“Good,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Pete gave you an amused look as you tried to stutter out a better response. “I-I Mean, personally, I hate watching interviews where the interviewer obviously hasn’t done their research, s-so I can’t imagine being interviewed by someone like-like that.”

“No, I respect it. I appreciate that.”

With that awkward encounter out of the way, you were able to actually start the interview.

It started off really well. You asked Pete about his new movie and any upcoming projects he had in the works. He told you about his work on SNL and his hope to film another stand up special soon. He was absolutely radiating happiness as he talked about his work, which made you extremely happy as well.

As the questions moved to be more personal, you came to learn more about Pete on a personal level. It went from feeling like an interviewer and their interviewee to feeling like two people who just met and who were getting to know one another.

You felt like you had gotten a hang of the interviewing thing, until Pete asked something that threw you off your groove. “So when do you ask me about my dating life?”

You had been looking down at your notebook when he asked, so your head snapped up so quickly that you almost made yourself dizzy, and your eyes were so wide that they were actually hurting a little. Pete laughed at the face you were making, and you could feel the embarrassment and nerves starting to come back.

“I-I...I wasn’t...” you stuttered, trying to figure out something to say. You never had any intentions of asking Pete about his dating life. It wasn’t relevant to the interview, so you weren’t going to bring it up.

“Damn, you’re really the best interviewer I’ve ever had,” Pete commented. “Most people go straight for the jugular on relationship questions. I’m still asked about an engagement that ended nearly two years ago. I respect that you had no intentions on bringing it up.”

You were so thrown off by the earlier question that even Pete’s reassurance that he was okay with you not asking wasn’t enough to get you back on track. You looked down at your notebook again, trying to remember what you had asked last but your mind felt empty. You were running out of time, you didn’t want to mess this up now.

Pete leaned forward and took your hands in his. You looked up at him and felt your breath catch in your throat upon realizing how close he was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up like that,” he said. “I really was just joking around. We were having fun and talking, I’m just used to that going south by being asked about my dating life because...well, you know who I was engaged to. I didn’t mean to startle you with the question.”

His voice was soft and it felt like you were seeing a completely different side of Pete, one you hadn’t even seen in movies or on SNL. Like it was a side of him he reserved for people closest to him, people that he cared about. You were shocked but also grateful that he felt like he could show you this side.

“I am single, by the way,” he added. “Just something I want you, personally, to know.”

He winked before he let go of your hands and sat back in his seat. Now you felt even more flustered, but for a different reason.

The rest of the interview went off without a hitch, and before you knew it, you were thanking Pete for his time and turning off your recording device. The crew came to take the microphone off the both of you.

“You’re my last interview of the day,” Pete said as the two of you stood from your seats. “I’m glad I got to end it on such a good note.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face. “I’m glad I got to be such a positive ending.”

“Are you parked downstairs?” You nodded, a bit confused by his question. “Mind if I walk you down? I gotta wait for my ride back to the hotel anyways, might as well spend that time with someone.”

At a loss for words, you just nodded.

The two of you walked together to the elevator that would bring you down to the parking garage you had parked your car in. The crew was still busy taking down the equipment in the room, so just the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“You’re really good for someone who’s just a student,” Pete said as the doors closed. “You’re more professional than most interviewers I’ve had.”

“I don’t want to be like every other tabloid journalist that just wants the latest scoop,” you responded. “I know that gossip and drama sells, but I wanna be one of those journalists that gets to show the real side of celebrities, not just the bullshit you see in magazines or on websites.”

“You’re one of very few, (Y/N), I’ll give you that.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Pete said your name. It just felt right hearing it come from his lips. You wondered if you could make him say it again.

“I really am sorry for throwing you off with that relationship jab,” Pete continued. “I meant for it to be lighthearted, like a joke, but I realized after I said it that it did come out pretty harsh.”

“It wasn’t harsh,” you shrugged. “I was just a bit shocked. I hadn’t planned on asking you anything that would make you uncomfortable, so I hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking you relationship questions.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not a super private guy, but it gets hard to be in the public eye with a relationship when I’m just trying to move on and people bring up my past ones, or what they believe to be past ones.”

Before you could respond, the doors to the elevator opened. The two of you stepped out and walked through the nearly empty parking garage before arriving to your car. You paused and turned back to Pete. You didn’t want to go just yet. You had enjoyed getting to spend time with him, even if it were likely he just saw you as yet another interviewer and nothing more.

“Thanks for walking me to my car,” you said, lamely. You mentally kicked yourself for not saying something that actually warranted a response.

“No problem. Gotta make sure no one kidnaps you.”

You smiled at the joke. You toyed with the keys in your hand, trying to put off getting in the car as much as you could. Pete was hesitant to walk away as well, which gave you a little bit of hope as to where this was going.

“I meant what I said about being single, by the way,” Pete finally said. “Which is to say that I am...single.”

“I am, too,” you told him.

A smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips. “What should I do with that information then?”

“Well,” you started, “you’re single, I’m single. We just spent the day getting to know one another. Maybe we could extend that to a non-professional setting.”

The smile on Pete’s face was brighter than the sun. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, actually. How about tomorrow? We could go for a coffee, start small.”

“Sounds fantastic. Here.” You passed him your phone and watched him put his number into it.

It felt so much easier to get into your car then.

You watched Pete walk away through the rearview mirror, and once he was far enough away you did a dance in your seat to celebrate both a great interview and the date you had managed to score along the way.

You were just starting up your car when a text from an unknown number came into your phone.

“just making sure you gave me a real number ~ pete”

You smiled to yourself and sent a response. “nope, this is actually a chinese take out place that conveniently does text messages as well”

“well fuck, that’s the third time this has happened this week”

You giggled to yourself before putting your phone aside and driving back towards your home, feeling as though you were on cloud nine.

[auramindedd]

Talent ||

Desc: You and your new friends decide to a drunk Among Us game. You have lots of fun and you’re glad to be able to have amazing friends like them. After ending the stream and sobering up, Corpse asks you something you’d never thought you’d be asked.

Warnings: Cussing, drinking

Notes: i’m using these fake social media apps bc they’re fun &’ i like using them for messaging and twitterrrr! i hope you guys don’t mind them! <3

also, i’m super sorry for not posting in a while. my motivation comes and goes, but right now i have lots of it.

i wanna work on an smau series so, be on the look out for that! :))

——————————————————————————

“No balls!” Rae shouts, daring you to kill Jack who is trying to get something out of the vending machine, but him being drunk as fuck doesn’t help.

“I have three, actually.” You joke. Both you and Rae burst into a fit of laughter, but not for long since Jack goes up to you two.

“What are you two laughing about?” He asks, laughing with you guys even though he has no idea what he’s laughing about. Gosh, Jack, you’re really making it hard for me to kill you right now, you think to yourself.

“This,” You answer, killing him. You and Rae run away, screaming whenever you see someone. Thank God for everyone being drunk or else you two would be sussed out for being complete maniacs.

“Y/N,” Rae whispers. She gestures towards the green room and you can see Sykkuno watering the plants.

“No!” You whisper-yell. You’ve become Rae’s hitman, Brooke being the other Imposter. You need someone to vouch for you so, you don’t mind being by Rae the whole time.

“Hey, Sykunno!” Rae shouts when Sykkuno walks out. He’s slurring over his words, trying to say ‘hey’ back. Yeah, no way you’re killing him.

“See? Absolutely no fucking balls. Small dick, too.” Rae taunts. You want to kill her, but if you do, you’d immediately get voted off. So, you kill Sykkuno instead. It hurt, but you had to show Rae what’s up.

“How come no bodies have been reported?” You ask to nobody in particular, just wondering out loud.

“I’m good at hiding them.” Corpse jokes from behind you, scaring both you and Rae. Corpse knows how sensitive you are to any sound when it comes down to places that are quiet, and since only you and Rae have been together, his voice was the cause of your overdramatic ass scream. Playing along, Rae starts screaming with you two, the both of you being extremely obnoxious.

You know that he was just joking about hiding the bodies because Brooke is your partner for this round. You’re not even sure how Corpse isn’t dead yet.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Corpse chuckles. “I won’t sneak up on you like that anymore.” You and Rae stop screaming, relieving Corpse’s poor eardrums of being blown.

Rae starts running around you in circles while you and Corpse are in the middle of a conversation. You know what she’s hinting at, but you decide to ignore her. You’re not going to kill Corpse.

“No balls!” Rae shouts competively.

“What?” Corpse asks, sounding confused.

“I have so many, Rae, you don’t even know, but I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna kill Corpse.” Good going, Y/N, you think to yourself. Well, now you have to kill him.

Corpse starts running away and you do everything your drunk ass can do to catch him and kill him. He’s laughing, running into walls, you doing the same. Finally, you’re able to kill him.

Rae catches up to your avatar, laughing maniacally. She cheers you on, knowing that’s the only way that you’ll continue to be her hitman. Jack, Sykkuno, and Corpse. You’re not even sure if Brooke has killed anyone.

“Brooke! Brooke, have you killed anyone yet?” You try to be quiet, but your shitface drunk and you don’t think that’s working.

“No, have you?” She asks, trying to be quiet, too.

“Yeah, three people. I’m Rae’s hitman.”

“Okay, I’ll do better.” And with that, she’s off to go kill people.

———

“His body was in the hallway to Decontam... I think, don’t quote me on that.” Dream says, slightly slurring on his words.

“There’s 4 bodies and we’ve only found one? What the fuck?” Charlie sounds exhausted and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry,” You try and catch your breath, but once you do, you’re still giggling a bit. “Sorry, that was funny.”

Everybody else starts laughing and eventually, the voting time ends and nobody is voted out.

Wow, a tactic you didn’t even mean to use actually worked. It’s either because of how drunk everyone is or because of how contagious your laugh is - a lot of people call it cute and adorable.

———

You guys decide to end the game, everyone else ending their streaming while you just close your laptop. You all seemed to sober up towards the end, none of you wanting to drink anymore. Right now, you’d say you’re 85% sober. Taking a shower and drinking lots of water should have you good and all sobered up.

After taking a shower and getting a cold bottle of water, you lay in bed, watching random Minecraft speedbuilds of people building cute cottages.

You get a DM from none other than Corpse Husband. You smile to yourself before answering.

———

You wake up with a minor headache. Last night, you’d say that the Minecraft speedbuilds helped sober you up, but right now, you know it was the cold shower and cold water bottle.

You remember the text message Corpse had sent you, about wanting to check up on you. You two have only known each other for about a week or two now, and you two haven’t really talked. It’s nice, though - having someone who wants to check up on you. He’s done it these last three days you’ve played with him and his friends.

You text Corpse, telling him you can talk on the phone now. You both have been trying to plan to talk to each other just so you guys can get closer. You and Corpse relate to a lot of things and talking in Among Us with proximity chat and Corpse’s stream, it’s not the best way to have a deep conversation.

“Hi,” You greet him, placing your phone down that way you can make breakfast and talk to him. He wanted to FaceTime, and you’re not sure why because he said he’d be covering his camera. It’s fine with you.

“Good morning, Y/N. What are you up to?” A small yawn escapes his lips.

“Making some chocolate chip pancakes.” You grab your phone, showing him the pan that’s mostly filled with chocolate chips.

“Gosh, Y/N, want some pancakes with your chocolate chips?” He chuckles. You giggle, placing the phone back down and turning the camera to face you.

“I’m an amazing cook, puh-lease. I know what I’m doing.”

“I think we’ll have to test that theory.”

“You live like 2 hours away from me, how are we gonna do that?” You ask him, placing a pancake on your plate. You put more butter on the pan before putting more pancake mix on.

“I’d 100% drive two hours to your apartment just to try out your food.” He says. You smile at him, shaking your head and rolling your eyes playfully. “Speaking of going to each other’s houses, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

He chuckles nervously, “Do you maybe want to collab?”

You’re caught offguard by this. You quickly put your pancake on your plate before answering.

“I’d love to.” You’re able to contain your excitement, surprisingly. “But Corpse, if you’re not comfortable with meeting me, we can find some way to do it over the phone. I really don’t think it’d be that hard. You could record your parts and I cou-”

Corpse cuts your rant off, chuckling a little bit. You smile sheepishly, taking a bite out of your pancakes.

“I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

“Okay,” You give him a small smile. “We can make plans later.”

“Good,” He says and you can hear a smile in his voice.

“Good,”

You and Corpse talk about anything and everything, alternating from really deep conversations to lighthearted, funny ones. Lots of laughing, but also lots of crying on your end. Corpse telling you that it’s okay and that everything will be okay is your new favorite thing. You never knew how much those two phrases would be changed just by coming from a different person. They never really meant anything when they came from anyone else - as much as you appreciated people reassuring you. But hearing it from Corpse, it really did feel like everything was going to be okay.

You two end the call, both of you being busy today. He promised to call you more often and you did the same.

——————————————————————————

Taglist:: Updating it tonight, comment or message me if you want to be added!

@bakugonua @emsies-dream @i-love-scott-mccall @anyasthoughts @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @campcampie @happyheartsss @izthefangirl @just-that-bi-girl @fire-heart-raven @tayloryorkscurls

——————————————————————————

Tags:: ignore

[kpopmalereader]

ending ; kim doyoung, lee donghyuck

• summary: you’re a member of 127 and are known for being extremely affectionate and touchy but you’re especially more affectionate with doyoung and haechan • pairing: kim doyoung x male!reader x lee donghyuck • word count: 1671 • to do

You breathe in and out, shoulders heaving up and down. You sigh and smile at the camera. The lights shine on your face, and the crowd screams. You laugh and wave with Donghyuck next to you, reaching over to mess up your hair. You gasp and push at him as the camera turns off.

You run after Donghyuck off the stage, jumping on his back as soon as he’s close enough. You latch on to him and shake him around. “I was trying to do my ending-fairy!”

“I made it better.” He loops his arms under your legs. He jumps around and moves over to a couch, dropping you on your back. 

You yell as you fall, flailing your arms and legs. Haechan laughs louder than ever, falling on top of you. You giggle and hold on to him, smile never ending.

Haechan leans back on you as the rest of Dream walks in. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands laying against his chest. He grabs a tissue off of a table and begins to wipe your sweat off. You close your eyes and let him do it, not opening them until the door opens again.

You open your eyes to see Taeyong and Doyoung in the doorway. Taeyong begins to compliment everyone’s performance, and you push Donghyuck over. You jump over him and walk up to Taeyong, pointing at the boy behind you.

“Donghyuck got in my ending shot. It was supposed to be my ending shot, and you should get on to him for it.” You nod your head and move past him, standing in front of Doyoung.

You smile brightly up at Doyoung. He looks down at you for a second.

“Did you see our performance?” Your eyes are wide, full of ambition and anticipation for his thoughts. “What did you think of it?”

“You were great.” He pats your head, nose scrunching at how sweaty you are. “Do you think you have anything to improve on?”

You answer without hesitation. “Stability.”

He nods. “Then that’s what we’ll work on next.”

You lean closer to him, whispering your question. “Can I hug you, or do you want me to take a shower first?”

“Shower first.” He squeezes your cheeks. “And not in front of everyone else. They can’t know you’re my favorite.”

You laugh as he winks at you, exaggeratingly nodding your head. “Right!”

He laughs as you walk away. You push Donghyuck’s shoulder on the way. “Can I take a shower before you?”

Donghyuck leans back on the couch and nods. “As long as you don’t use all of the hot water.”

“No promises!” You call back, running ahead of everyone else to the bathroom.

*

You hold your hand against your throat, humming the notes to the newest song. You bob your head along to the moves, moving as much as you can in the small section assigned to you. Doyoung walks to stand beside you. He waits for a second before he lightly pulls you to step backwards and moves in front of you.

You continue to hum along with the song and close your eyes. Doyoung reaches forward and fixes the front strand of your hair. He waits for you to go through the music one more time and moves your hands away.

“I’m nervous.” You mumble. “I’m nervous.”

“Some nerves are good.” He nods his head. “What did we practice?”

“Change nerves to excitement. If it gets too overwhelming, look for one of us, we’ll cheer you on.”

You nod your head along with his words, but he can see how substantial your anxiety still is. You rub your hands together and breathe deeply.

“Can you stay here until you have to go to your mark?”

“I’ll be right here.”

You and Doyoung stay standing in front of each other, talking about the performance and your worry. Doyoung looks to his left, seeing a staff member walking closer with a camera in hand. He pats your shoulder and points them out to you. You look at him with wide eyes for a second before putting an easy expression on and turning towards the camera.

The staff member walks closer, looking at the camera screen. Doyoung reaches down to bump his fingers against yours. You smile at the camera and wait for the staff member to ask a question.

“Are you ready for your first performance with 127?”

You tilt your head and nod. “Yeah! I’m nervous, but I’m also really excited. It’s kind of difficult to differentiate the two. I want to make everyone proud and show a different side of performing that I haven’t been able to before. I hope everyone likes it.”

The staff nods their head. “Is Doyoung helping with your anxiety?”

“Yes! He’s an excellent performer and a very nice vocalist. I think I have a lot to learn from him. As well as the others.” You look up at Doyoung and giggle. “He likes to pretend he doesn’t care, but he cares a lot, and I really appreciate it.”

Doyoung pushes you lightly. You smile at him and hold his arm, listening to the different questions the staff member asks. You don’t realize, but fans who watch the clip later do, that you slowly get closer and closer to Doyoung, putting your chin on his shoulder. You answer your questions like usual, but your body is hidden by Doyoung’s. Donghyuck joins you two after a while and notices you cuddling up to Doyoung. He doesn’t say anything, as you seem pretty comfortable with the touch, and he doesn’t want to mess it up, but he does walk over to you, pulling at your hand lightly. You hold his hand and don’t move away, continuing to help answer the questions.

“Places” is called soon after Donghyuck joins, and all three of you wave to the staff as they walk away. You squeeze Donghyuck’s hand and move away from the two, breathing in and out deeply to calm yourself. Donghyuck smiles and waves before going to his place, and Doyoung pats your shoulder.

“You’re going to do great.” He nods his head and moves to his own place, keeping an eye on you as he walks away.

*

127 sits in front of a camera, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Yuta in the very front, leading the charge in conversation. They read out comments and ask questions to the rest of the group and fans watching. Everyone else sits around and do their own things, joining in talking to the live now and then, but most are just hanging out. You sit next to Taeyong, leaning into him to watch the game he plays on his phone. You react wildly to everything that happens with him, crashing into Taeyong and Yuta on the other side. They laugh with your movements, knowing you’re only doing it as entertainment for fans and to get closer to them in a more lighthearted way. 

Yuta smiles and pats your shoulder, pushing you down in your seat. You giggle and try to calm yourself. You breathe in and pretend to meditate for a second. You look around, spotting Donghyuck next to Mark. You pat Taeyong’s leg and point over to them. He nods his head, and you jump up, crawling behind everyone. You pop up next to Donghyuck, whisper-asking to sit next to him. He lifts his arm and lets you hurry in, resting his arm when you settle in close to him. You lean against his chest, laying your head back. He pats your chest lightly, leaning in to talk to you. 

Fans can see you smile brightly and talk to him in a hushed but visibly excited voice. You all but climb on his lap as you speak. Donghyuck lifts your leg, laying it across his in the name of getting more comfortable, and glares at Mark jokingly when he places his hand on your ankle.

You seem to notice Doyoung in front of Mark and reach over with your leg, nudging him with your foot. He doesn’t look at you, and you push him harder. He finally glances at you. You smile brightly, waving at him. He rolls his eyes and reaches back, letting you grab his hand for a second. He shakes his head and goes back to interacting with fans with an even wider smile on his face.

Another hour of the live passes. Doyoung begins to notice your name appearing in the chat more often. He turns around to check in on you and Donghyuck. He sees Donghyuck and Mark talking to each other, and your head slumped forward. You’ve shifted to lay on Donghyuck, head resting again on his shoulder. One of your hands is wrapped to hold the back of his neck, and the other rests on your legs. Your fingers twitch and move, and your eyes flutter ever-so-slightly.

Doyoung watches the clock for a few seconds before he stands up. He takes the step up to you and Donghyuck. He brushes your hair back and leans down to Donghyuck.

“I’m going to take him, he needs the sleep, and I don’t want someone to be loud and wake him up.” 

Donghyuck pats your shoulder and slowly moves your arm. You mumble something and shake your head, attempting to dissolve further into Donghyuck’s chest. Doyoung smiles and reaches down. He pushes one of his arms under your knees and uses the other to wrap your arm around his shoulder loosely. He picks you up slowly and winces when your head knocks against his chest harder than he likes.

He moves you to one of the recording studios, laying you down on the couch. You open your eyes for a second before they fall closed again. Your hand falls to hold his, and you smile.

He raises an eyebrow and leans closer, grabbing a blanket from behind the couch. “What are you smiling at?”

“Everyone knows your affectionate side now.” You yawn and squeeze his hand, falling back asleep.

[dreamboatmomota]

PLEASE YOUR OCS ARE ALL SO CUTE! CAN I ASK FOR SOME SMALL DESCRIPTIONS OF ALL OF THEM?? IM SO CURIOUS-

OMG THANK YOU AND OF COURSE!!!!!! i'll write them as short as i can but that's usually not in my skillset EHEHEHE so some of these might get long-winded, bear with me. also all but 2 dont have names, thats still very much a work in progress SO FOR STARTERS my KG takes place in a simulated dome, kind of like. the hunger games 2 if that comes to mind HAHA but its mostly a campsite in a dense forest, but other shit can be added to manipulate the killing game as motives ultimate astronomer: his name is Hohodzuki Tentai, he's very sheltered because he grew up in isolation, specifically in an observatory in the middle of nowhere. he's well meaning, but he lacks proper social skills and sometimes comes off as weird to the others because he gets very curious about them and their lifestyles and sometimes asks boundary-crossing questions. he loves star maps, astrology, and mood rings; he constantly walks around putting them on the other participants ultimate pack leader: his name is Masashi Choko. everything about him points towards being a werewolf, and even though they aren't real, the cast is constantly questioning it because of choko's behavior. in reality, choko earned his title of pack leader because he has a delusion that he's on a spiritual level with the dogs he rescues and is the alpha of his pack and refers to them as his brothers. him and tentai form a close bond where choko eventually refers to tentai as having the same spiritual wavelength. overall he's super loud and friendly and generally just kind of comes off as an overexcited dog ultimate evel knievel impersonator: he's not an impersonator on purpose, he actually hates the title but anyone only ever sees him as an impersonator because he's only been able to reach evel knievel's personal bests. his only goal is to beat those records so he can be the best, but he's so invested in being better than evel knievel that he ends up dressing like him and doing the exact same stunt work so that when he bests him, he will be above him. he does not realize this is counterproductive. he's super hot headed and will bite you if you call him an impersonator ultimate prosecuting attorney: she's my antag. she's stiff and no nonsense, and she doesn't believe in supporting the weak; basically, get with it or get out of the way. she runs the trials, but since she's my antag she usually ends up pinning it on the red herrings of each case and demands someone dare to prove her wrong, constantly forcing the trials to have to be redirected to the right track. shes also extremely hard working to the point of exhaustion, as you can see by her eyebags HAHA, but its ok bc she saves time by manipulating others to help her with tampering evidence. she is heavily inspired by ace attorney, i came up with her while getting into the series :^) ultimate fisher: shes VERY loosely based on tom sawyer. shes kinda lazy and indifferent to what goes on, usually hoping someone does the work for her. she fishes for leisure rather than sport, so she prioritizes relaxation and is stubborn about it when someone criticizes her for it. she's usually off on her own napping or daydreaming ultimate puppeteer: LOUD. keeps NO secrets. the second you tell her something in private she will loudly repeat it. shes nosy and crude and uses her puppets to carry this out. she tries to be sweet and well meaning though, but she's just kind of insensitive with her comments and pokes fun at people with her puppets ultimate ice figure skater: elegant and poise, but has a secret competitive streak that brings out a playful vulgarity. he has a lighthearted rivalry with the ult. hockey player to see who's better on the ice, but a lot of his wisecracks go over poor hockey's head. they both watched each other on TV pre-KG, but theyre too embarrassed to admit watching the other's sport so they play it off in person and slowly become very.............very bromosexual

ultimate hockey player: bigggg dumb, stupid softie. his favorite things are meat, hockey, and his mom. he's not a lot of help in trials but he keeps people in good spirits and usually tries to cheer people up by asking if they want to play games or join him in hockey. the rest of the cast has decided he's impossible to hate ultimate demonologist: loves the occult and is a huge conspiracy theorist, but mostly uses his knowledge of spooky shit to scare everyone else. he gets defensive if you do the same sort of stuff to him though and is in general very difficult to get along with or take seriously. he takes the occult very seriously and has a small pet snake with him :^)

THATS ALL SO FAR, im still working on fleshing the other out but i worked on designing them today so hopefully they'll be posted soon !!

[with-love-anu]

— @futurewriter2000 

My dumpling, my best friend you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve had the chance to meet and know and words fail me at just how much I love and adore you. I see you work so damn hard and I cannot ever be prouder. Now that the year is ending, I can’t even remember a time I didn’t know you. You’re smart and a total badass and deserve so so many good things in life. I hope you never quite lose the sight of who you are, remember just how gorgeous and charming of a person you’ve always been and no matter what people throw at you, you come back stronger than ever. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

— @im-a-writer-right

Ria, Ria, Ria. You’re an absolute pleasure to know and be around and please never ever think otherwise. I don’t know what prompted us to start talking but I’m glad for whatever it was. Our talks are so damn precious, I can’t even capture each and everyone even if I tried to. You’re talented, smart and hella capable and I’m so damn proud of you bby. So damn proud just for existing. I know exactly how difficult it is to do just that sometimes. I just want you to remember that wherever you are or might be doing at whatever point; that I am rooting for you, so many people are. We’re rooting for you to have your best life ever. 

— @haracelovestruck

Harace, my sexy baby koala, you’re a wonderful wonderful person. I love love love talking to you, you absolutely make my day. Something I adore about you is that you aren’t scared to put forward your thoughts and opinions and oh it is such a refreshing perspective. I love making you slip for words over Remus- fuck fucl FUCK. I really hope you find your Remus, hopefully after you’re away from Korea. The fact that we’ve never not texted each other every single day for months on end warms my heart and I don’t intend on breaking our record anytime soon. You’re so very talented work hard day in and day out, I wish you all the success in your life. I look forward to you being your own boss in whatever you choose to do.

— @blisfvll

Jen, my favorite egg, my soulmate let me tell you just how much of a brilliant person you are. You’re talented, ambitious, crazy, beautiful, funny and awesome. I know we met recently but goddamn we click. I love our conversations no matter how weird they become after a point. And yearning! OH MY GOD the yearning. We can kill each other over ten times with it and I don’t think either of us will even complain. I just want to say that you should believe a lot more in yourself, cause you deserve that. I really hope you get to travel the world and find your Regulus and settle down in a cottage with all your friends. I love you, and look forward to some crazy scenario where we do end up meeting each other.

— @thebookwormslytherin

Muskan! You absolute gem, I love you so much! You are an amazing amazing friend and I’m so glad to have met you. You’re smart, you’re talented, you’re extremely sweet and drop-dead gorgeous. You deserve all good things in life and more. I hope people see just how precious you are and admire you because you’re just that lovely. Thank you so much for always having my back and for all the conversations we have. 

— @approved-by-dentists

Clarissa, you talented sweet bean! You’re funny, smart and an absolute pleasure to talk to. You have a way to look at things differently and I admire you for being just the way you are. You have an amazing sense of humor, your memes are A+ and I’m so happy to see you and your blog grow! You deserve all the love and appreciation irl and here. I hope people know just how precious you are and you achieve all that you aspire for, I look forward to you living the life you want.

— @mango-pickle

Tanvi, mango you’re extremely talented, smart and a wholesome human bean. I love your puns and you take care of so many people around and spread positivity that just brightens my dash every single day. I wish you a whole lot of happiness and love!

— @pregnant-piggy

We haven’t talked in a long long time but I just want you to know that I love you very much and you’re an adorable goofball who just lightens my day. Your comments, reblogs, every smol conversation we have just warms my heart so much. I hope you have a great great day everyday cause you deserve it honey!

— @just-a-belgian-girl

Shayna! You’re an adorkable person and always a pleasure to converse with! Thank you for checking up on me occasionally and making my day a lil brighter. I hope you have days full of happiness and bliss, ily!

— @the-moon-and-the-book

Phoebe, you absolute sweetheart! Your enthusiasm is really endearing and you’re always a pleasure to be around! I wish you a whole lot of love and appreciation because you’re a gem.

— @leahstypewriter

It has been so long since we conversed! You’re an amazing amazing person, talented, smart and always amazing to talk to! You work so damn hard, I really hope you achieve all that you aspire for!

— @hollands-weasley

MY SIMPING BUDDY! I miss our conversations! You always have a way about things and you’re extremely talented and so very sweet. I hope the exam pressure doesn’t kill you a lot. Moreover, I know you’re gonna do great. Believe in yourself. I’m here for you whenever you need me. I wish you a whole lot of happiness and love.

— @emcchi

Em, my flower girl! I know I haven’t talked to you a lot recently but I just want to say that I love you and that you’re an adorable human bean who deserves all the love the world has to give!

— @angelinathebook

Lena! I know we don’t talk much, but I’d love to get to know you more. You’re so amazing, always willing to help others around you. I hope you realize that you deserve all the love and good things life has to offer and look forward to see you achieve all your goals!

— @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon

BLUE! It's been so very long since we conversed but I just wanna say that you're an amazing person and that your flirt asks have always brought me great amount of joy. I hope you know that you're beautiful in every way and I wish you all the happiness and love for the next and every coming year!

— @calltothewild

You've always kind of reminded me of my sister and you still do. You're an amazing, lighthearted person and have a thing about you that makes you an extremely sweet lil bean. I hope that the upcoming years are not hard on you and am currently sending all the love at your way!

— @nadseas

Nadia. You're an absolute queen and a bad-ass. You spread so much love around and you're truly truly precious. Ily and I hope you have a great next and all coming years!

[ryttu3k]

Doing those ship meme questions only it's the new OT3 (Beckett/Sascha/Ilias) because they're my main source of serotonin these days. Occasional appearances from Anatole and Lucita, too.

Not doing all, but there are A Lot.

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Beckett and Sascha actually do have a lot of braincells between them but none of them are in use for 'can sense danger'. Ilias has gained some minor common sense since his 'hey, I'm going to ask our Antediluvian for power to help face its favourite childe oh whoops I am possessed' thing and is usually the one sighing fondly and saving their asses.

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

Ilias. 100% Ilias. He would go out in public in a shirt saying 'I <3 Sascha' and calling them ‘my flower’ while Sascha is just pleased they can't blush any more.

3. Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react

God their music tastes are all over the place. Sascha is over a thousand years old and has seen and heard A Lot. They consider the Romantic period 'modern music'. Beckett is similar albeit with about 350 years of it. Ilias got hurled from 1233 to 2004 and after a period of ??? went, "Oh, Romanian music!" and it was. Dragostea Din Tei. Like can you imagine one moment it’s 1233 and the next moment you are listening to Dragostea Din Tei. Also thanks to the language drift they only caught about a quarter of the words so it was this whole thing where he almost, almost was understanding it but the rest was just, “...what.” And that’s how Ilias discovered modern music.

Anyway yeah they’ve pretty much decided that their collective music tastes are so disparate no one is allowed to comment on them.

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Honestly, they all kind of spoil each other, albeit in different ways. Like Ilias will just randomly pop a handmade flower crown on Sascha’s head. Beckett will occasionally find an extremely rare book on his desk and know Sascha found it for him. Beckett always tells Sascha first when he’s found something cool so they can be the first to investigate it. And they absolutely get competitive, yeah.

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

Sascha and Ilias have a mutual blood bond, which is more or less the equivalent of thus. Beckett has a mutual bond with Anatole, but he and Sascha have a level-2 bond.

7. Are their friends/family supportive

 Honestly, uh, Sascha and Ilias don’t really have anyone else. Beckett’s companions tend to range from, “They’re terrifying but I trust your judgment :D” (Anatole) to “hahahahahaha if Vykos harms one hair on Beckett’s head I’ll end them” (Lucita) to “WHY” (Aristotle, Okulos, most others tbh).

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Sascha is the one most prone to panic attacks because trauma is a bitch and basically just... Beckett and Ilias both respond by with hugging/gentle restraint (if they’re okay with touch) or by giving them space and doing things like running a hot bath when they’re touch-averse.

9. Which one dissociates

Honestly Sascha spent most of 1234 to 2006 lowkey dissociating, which is fair when there’s literally another essence fused to yours. Post-Dracon, they still get the occasional dissociative episode, but it’s much easier to bring them back to themself.

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them

All three tbh. Beckett stares at Sascha, Sascha either gets a bit self-conscious or a bit ;) , depending on mood. Sascha stares at both Beckett and Ilias and gets a bit embarrassed when caught (Beckett will laugh it off, Ilias will basically be ;D). Ilias stares at both and is completely shameless about it because he may no longer be on the Path of Pleasure but he’s absolutely not going to feel ashamed for admiring his gorgeous lovers.

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Beckett and Sascha travel too much for one place, honestly, and Ilias accompanies them a lot. They do have a few houses scattered throughout the world, though, including one in the Carpathians (nowhere near Brasov, tyvm). Not really as big as the monastery, it’s mostly like... big library, a few comfortable places to sleep or rest, Ilias likes having a garden these days and grows a lot of flowers.

12. What do their dates look like

Museum heists.

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Ilias gets even more handsy. Actually he can get to be a bit of a pain, but he does listen immediately if one of them tells him to tone it down. Beckett gets very enthusiastic and fired-up and a bit more feral and he’s gonna go find Enoch right now and prove Caine wasn’t real once and for all. Sascha, uh, tends to get a bit emotional and also very talkative, but can literally like. Talk their way into minor breakdowns. Basically less barriers.

14. Which one rolls over in the morning evening to wake up the other one just to kiss them

All three :3

15. Have they saved each other's lives before

Yup!

Ficverse-wise, Sascha did also save Ilias from becoming a bogatyr to the Eldest, although that was also Sascha and Beckett both saving themselves by being emotionally honest. Yeah XD

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Ilias’ spirituality conflicts a bit with Beckett’s... atheism, I guess? Like he’s definitely not sure he believes in the spirits that Ilias regularly works with as a Koldun, but he’s willing to keep a relatively open mind. (He’s a bit less open-minded in Sascha’s belief in - and support of - Caine, given that he’s literally based his career around the metaphor theory!)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

Sascha.

They have troll tendencies, okay.

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

There is absolutely no kinkshaming here. Listen Ilias was a Priest of Jarilo. Sascha was once on the Path of Pleasure too. Beckett seduced Dracula for information then forgot to ask his question. They’re all very open about everything.

There may be teasing about the odd hobby or interest but it’s pretty lighthearted.

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Beckett occasionally has Moments over his hands and worries about hurting Sascha or something. They basically respond by being like “are you kidding the claws are hot as hell”. On occasion, Beckett will get one of them to Vicissitude them down if he wants to use his hands more, although they’ll regrow and be achey for a night or two afterwards.

20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing?

Honestly I want to say Third Eye by Florence + the Machine just for fic reasons. When I was writing Mantle I saw it very much as Beckett towards Sascha, but it fits with Ilias towards them as well.

I have no idea how they would have discovered F+tM but anyway.

23. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?

It. I imagine it usually involves police chases. When it doesn’t Beckett will occasionally go wolf so he can stick his head out the car window like :P

Shh don’t tell anyone.

25. Do people ever get annoyed of their pda

God probably. One of the main exceptions is Anatole, who’ll basically go, “Oh! Are we cuddling?” and flop on top of Beckett.

27. Which one’s the red, which one’s the blue

They’re all red. Fear. Ilias is probably closest to blue.

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Sascha has both PTSD (from Symeon and Michael, and from the Eldest) and C-PTSD (from being bound to the Dracon for literal centuries). Also depression and anxiety, which are... pretty common with those. See question 8 for some of the coping methods, the rest is just... taking each day as it comes. Like they’ve lived a very long time, but they only got free of the Dracon in 2006, so it’s still a very new thing.

Ilias has some trauma from some of the things he’s had to do to survive since waking up with the Thirst of Ages, and gets into guilt spirals on occasion. He mostly focuses on Path of Nocturnal Redemption methods to work through it; he’s kind of adverse to anyone seeing him vulnerable like that. He knows Sascha has done some awful shit, but they weren’t themself at the time so Ilias feels it doesn’t count, and Beckett is like, Humanity 6? He just doesn’t get it, so Ilias keeps it to himself.

Beckett has an odd, acquired one - his experiences in Jerusalem left him with the ability (if it could be called an ability!) to occasionally hear the Cobweb (the Malkavian Madness Network). While his connection isn’t nearly as strong as an actual Malkavian’s, he does get odd flashes of Insight; less helpfully, it can occasionally get, uh, loud in his head. This tends to ramp up a bit with proximity to Malkavians, so when he’s around Anatole, Anatole will help him filter the voices and thoughts out by teaching him meditation techniques. (Given that Anatole - correctly - feels responsible for Beckett being afflicted thus, he wants to make sure it doesn’t hit his lover too badly.)

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Give Beckett head scritchies and he’ll turn into a puddle :3

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

*loud, prolonged laughter*

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Sascha and Ilias are usually... very chill; if they argue, it’s over the other’s safety, like Ilias wanting to do something reckless and Sascha being very much ‘please do not’. Sascha and Beckett argue a bit more, although thankfully they have now stopped trying to literally kill each other XD When they do, it’s usually ideological, related to Gehenna, Caine, et cetera. Sascha is still very much a part of the Sabbat, and Beckett is, well, basically an atheist.

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

All three tbh. Here’s a fun bit from the novel:

Still really dig this bit from BJD, too!

No misgendering on Beckett’s watch!

42. How would one react if the other was to die

Uh.

Poorly.

Like most of Sascha’s sanity slippage was due to the Dracon’s essence being fused to their own and just how the Eldest... did that, but a good part of it was absolutely due to Ilias’ death.

43. Who dies first

...canonically, Ilias XD;;

It’s okay he gets better.

[unto-myself-together]

From Dusk to Dawn, ch 2 (ESO fanfic)

Content warnings for this specific chapter: references to sex. Brief descriptions of violence. Occasional light cursing (i.e. damn, ass. It’s very infrequent though)

Author notes (a lot of notes, sorry!!):

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Author notes (skip to the squiggly lines--> ~~~~~~ if you want to jump straight into the story)

You can also read the story on my Archive of Our Own Account here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343163/chapters/64680022#workskin

Lots of notes here (and I apologize for that. But this chapter had a lot of stuff going on. There are a couple of explanations for anyone who is interested/confused by something that went on in this chapter.):

Hey everyone. I really really hope you all have been doing much better during these troubled times than I have. I have an anxiety disorder (as well as a couple of other things and chronic medical conditions) and let’s just say that this does not exactly mix well with a worldwide pandemic. Let me just say that if it wasn’t for ESO and my ESO guildies, I don’t know where I’d be.

I love your comments. All of them. I have been coming back just to read them again and again, and when I get the chance I want to respond to each and every one of them. You all are so beautiful; thank you… And thank you to the person who left that extremely lovely message in my ask box on Tumblr! I’m not sure how to let you know, how to respond in a way that you will see (are you still around?), but if you can see this: I love you and I loved, loved, loved your message!

I missed writing. A lot. But I have so tired lately that I was having difficulties writing this next chapter. I finally got it out and I wanted to share it with all of you. This one is a bit more lighthearted than the last (we’re going to go on a rollercoaster here, with lighthearted chapters intermixed with not-so lighthearted chapters). I also changed the tags a bit.

Ravenwatch and sexuality: It’s actually canon that House Ravenwatch has “naked parties”. I kid you not. Gwendis has dialogue during the quest where you crown the new King/Queen of Rivenspire; if you meet her upstairs in Shornhelm’s castle, she’ll say something like:“If this were a Ravenwatch party, none of these people would be wearing clothes”. Please note that this is a “missable conversation”;if you do not catch Gwendis before completing the crowning quest, you will never get to see her say it again.

Even if ZOS later decides to erase these lines, they can’t erase them from history because I have recordings of it :D In all honesty? I actually appreciated this little side note;I think it adds more complexity to their characters. Given their rules about consent regarding blood giving, their parties are probably fully consensual too.And there really isn’t anything wrong about adults having consensual parties. Besides, vampires have always been a little associated with sex and sexuality, so I don’t think it’s really that surprising.

Kalin’s comment is a reference to their parties. But he purposely worded it in a way that he knew Elyssa wouldn’t understand: with a reference to a Dunmer tavern-brothel. No, Ophelia doesn’t actually participate in their parties (having grown up in this place, I think it would be awkward for all people involved); instead she usually goes to visit relatives and comes back to help with the clean-up. That’s not gonna stop Kalin from teasing her anyways. Speaking of Kalin, I really think he didn’t need to be half-naked and lounging on their dining room table during their mealtime. Just saying: I feel like we were interrupting a little more than just “mealtime”.

Now, whether or not Verandis and his "children" have relations with each other when they keep referring to each other by familial names ("father", "sister") is a different story; the idea makes me uncomfortable. But I'm fairly certain Kalin (who is not "a family member") and mortal guests can get some action with the vampires.

In regards to the mortal servants: I’m sorry, ZOS. I don’t care how much magic is pumping through Tamriel’s veins; you will never convince me that two servants (Kalin and Estelle) can feed a household of five vampires once a night every night (even more than five vampires if you save the two people during the Rivenspire quests). Even with magical “produce more blood” potions, I felt the need to add at least two more mortals to the household…I hope readers don’t mind…

It did get me thinking: how does Verandis find these people? I doubt he just puts up an ad onto the Shornhelm bulletin board. Can you imagine? “Help wanted. Must have lots of blood and no aversion to pointy objects in your neck” (I’m kidding). Melina Cassel’s comments in her hireling mails implies that Verandis doesn’t force the servants to give blood as a part of their contract (she makes mention that Estelle giving blood goes “beyond the call of duty”). But there probably is a preference for those who aren’t averse to parting with a bit of their life force every now and then. In Kalin’s case, I’m like 99% convinced his half naked Dunmer self does it because he thinks it’s hot.

I actually had a mock up done of the Castle Ravenwatch basement/lower floor on the PTS using Daggerfall Overlook. I’m not sure if anyone would be interested enough in it for me to post a pic of it though. (yes, I know.  I saw the Ravenwatch Prologue and I don’t care)

I really hope ZOS comes up with a house crest for House Ravenwatch soon; otherwise I will have to make my own…

I know it may not seem like it from this chapter, but I actually have fallen madly in love with Fennorian. But it doesn’t technically appear during the Rivenspire questline, and I actually want Elyssa’s first time meeting him to be during her visit to Western Skyrim and doing something like the Bound in Blood quest.

The goat: It’s more of an inside joke I have with myself. When I was going through the Rivenspire questline for the first time, I noticed that there’s a goat that appears behind Ravenwatch Castle. At first, I thought it coincided the appearance and disappearance of Kalin. So I made a joke to myself that Kalin IS the goat. (Later I found out the goat’s appearance has nothing to do with whether or not Kalin the NPC is around. Still, I thought it would be funny to poke at that idea in the fic).

I have a problem with the Stormhaven storyline and this idea that you have to have this specific potion made with the Dream Shard just to avoid dreams. For the purposes of this story, I’m going to re-write that part so that the Dream Shard created potion is only to prevent Vaermina’s magic from interfering with your dreams specifically, and that there are likely plenty of other alchemy potions (sleep potions) that could prevent dreams (but not necessarily prevent Vaermina or her followers from affecting your sleep or giving you nightmares anyways). I just wanted to make that distinction.

While I wouldn’t doubt Vaermina might torment the Vestige in their sleep as a payback, I doubt the Daedric Prince would care enough to do it constantly (just the feeling that I got when I finished the Stormhaven questline was that Vaermina wasn’t too perturbed by being thwarted. Her “imprisoning” the Vestige in her realm was half-hearted as well; you could easily leave. Like she had much bigger fish to fry than you).

In regards to House Ravenwatch and sexuality again: I wanted to state more bluntly that No, I do not think the vampiric family members have sex with each other because they keep referring to each other as "brother" and "sister" (and to Verandis as "father") in canon. Yes, I know they're probably not ACTUALLY related to each other, but still. Instead, I think they have rampant naked parties with fully willing fully adult mortal participants. Let's be honest: there's got to be at least as many mortals in Tamriel who think vampires are hot as there are people in our world that think vampires are hot...Also. You know. Kalin. Half naked. On the table. Just saying.

PLEASE NOTE: Elyssa Arboretum is NOT the actual name of my character. I changed her last name for this story because...well....I'm a little shy. If you ever meet someone in game that has a name similar but not exact, it MIGHT be me. I usually like being on my own, as social situations can cause me great stress (especially if they're strangers). I am so sorry, and I greatly appreciate your understanding...

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She was staring at a wall.

….

…….

To be fair, it was a very nice wall.

…

….

….Although it did take her more than a moment’s time to realize she was staring at it sideways.

…

…And even longer to realize that she was staring at it sideways because she was lying down.

Groaning out of partial frustration, Elyssa heaved herself into a sitting position.

A soft bed and warm blankets were there to greet her, and they were inviting enough that she was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep.

But the longer she sat there, the faster the memories of the previous days nagged at her:

High Rock.

Blood fiends.

A plot to conquer the entirety of Rivenspire by a grieving and spiteful Breton noble.

The usual.

….

……She had to know what time it was.

Covers flung wide, she jumped out of bed.  Or tripped, rather; a creak in her back found her eagerness a bit disagreeable.   And it took a bit rubbing out her muscles to get her poor back to stand up straight.

But she hurried to make her way downstairs, whether her sore back liked it or not, when she heard the echoes of a conversation.

Gwendis and Melina were both there in the main hall.  Gwendis was literally lounging on top of her coffin, her arm lazily hanging over her eyes as if she meant to sleep like that.

Melina was at the table, toying with an array of colorful runestones.

“Good morning, Elyssa,” Melina cheerfully greeted her as she approached.

“Morning, Melina.  Morning Gwendis.”

Gwendis only gave a grunt in response.

Elyssa took a spot next to Melina, watching her as she carefully examined one rune at a time before placing them into different, colorful piles.

“Did you sleep well?”  Melina asked, frowning and squinting closer to her own hand when she noticed the rune she held had its surface defaced.

“Better than well.  I think this was the best sleep I’ve had since…it’s got to have been weeks...I feel fantastic…”

Melina chuckled a little.  “Well if you get such wonderful sleep in our home, perhaps you should stay with us then!  At least, for a while.  We get so few guests; I find it a little exciting to have someone new with us.  And, provided you’re still interested, I’d love the opportunity to show you a few basic enchanting techniques.  You know…when all this…ah, bloodfiend business is over.”

Elyssa perked up with a grin.  “I think I’d really like that.  And maybe you could take a look at that book I got, the one I told you about?  It really doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, and it would be great if someone could translate it into something more ‘beginner level’.”

“Oh of course, dear. I’ll certainly give it a try when we’re all a little less pre-occupied…”

“Wake me up when the world’s ending,” Gwendis moaned, still lounging on her perch.

“Is she all right?” Elyssa asked, leaning towards Melina.

“Oh she’s fine.  Just cranky after scouting out half of Rivenspire for Adusa.  She’ll be better after she gets some rest….”

Melina’s eyes narrowed at Gwendis.  “She’d feel even better if she actually bothered to go inside her coffin instead of sleeping on the hard stone lid...”

“That requires getting up…” Gwendis complained.

Melina gave a sigh, then went back to her rune sorting.

But Elyssa continued to stare at Gwendis, lost in thought.

“Do vampires dream?”  She asked, absentmindedly.

“Of course we do,” Melina replied. “My favorite dreams involve handsome men, coming to sweep me off my feet and take me far away to their extravagant and elaborate castle where we watch the stars and raise our nineteen adopted children together…”

“Which, for Melina, is nineteen too many,” Gwendis chimed in with a chuckle.

“Oh hush you.  If you’re too tired to lift a coffin lid than you’re too tired to make fun of my fantasies.”

“Do you really want nineteen children?”  Elyssa asked.

“Well…” She started with a bit of a grimace, “Maybe not quite THAT many….But I do want at least a child or two.  I adore children, they can be so sweet sometimes…”

She stared with melancholy as she traced the face of a beautiful rune.

“Never making assumptions….never judging you…”  She continued, solemnly.

“Breaking all the furniture in the house,” Gwendis remarked with a more lighthearted air.

“I suppose they can also be quite destructive too,” Melina gave out a little laugh.  “But what about you, Elyssa?  Have you ever thought about children?”

Elyssa made a face. “I think my horse is enough of a handful…”

She straightened up in a panic when she remembered her horse.

“Wait, my horse!  I put her around back in that shed place like Ophelia told me to, but I forgot to ask: was that really okay?  What if the bloodfiends got to her?  Should I go check on her?”

Melina patted her hand reassuringly just as she stood.

“Don’t fret there, dear.  The bloodfiends tend to lean away from anything that doesn’t smell like food, and our scent is all over these grounds.  It wards the little monsters away from our beautiful castle.”

Elyssa sat back down out of relief.

“Besides,” Melina added, “Our beloved little goat would have been eaten a long time ago if it were otherwise.”

“That goat!” Elyssa groaned. “I mean, speaking of kids and destruction: your goat wouldn’t stop headbutting me as I was trying to take off my horse’s tack, and I was very nearly tempted to kick him straight into your lake.  How do you get him to stop?”

“Elyssa!”  Melina chastised with a cluck. “That’s no way to treat Kalin.”

“Yes but—“ Elyssa cut off as those words wormed their way into her head.  “Wha….”

She turned to Melina, face contorted in a mixture of utter confusion with a touch of horror.  “What?  But I thought Kalin was the name of your…”

“Our resident Weregoat, yes.”

“Your resident… what?”

“Were.  Goat.” Melina said with precise articulation.

Elyssa stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.  “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Me?” Melina asked, offended and with her hand firmly at her heart.  “Why I’d never!”

That did nothing to convince Elyssa.

“Gwendis…” Elyssa sighed, turning to the lounging vampire.  “Is there such thing as Weregoats?“

Gwendis lazily lifted her arm to give her a side eye.  “I mean, I think you should really focus on apologizing to Kalin for thinking about throwing him into the lake…Ya got some priorities you need to sort here…”

Elyssa flushed in embarrassment.  She’d never heard of a weregoat before.  But then, she’d never heard of friendly vampires until just yesterday.  And someone did tell her once that werebears were an actual thing…

“All…All right…” Elyssa said, slowly.  Not quite fully prepared to believe.  “Then when do weregoats transform?”

“Why, none other than the evening of every second Morndas of the month.  Which, I believe, was yesterday.  Is that not correct, Gwendis?”

“Yeee-ep.”  Gwendis replied, lazily letting the word hang in the air.

“Okay,” Elyssa said, a little less confident in herself.  “But why a goat, of all things?”

“Please,” Melina said, “Do I look like Hircine? For all we know, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt punishes those who scorn him with this…awful curse.  Such poor people might be used as fodder in the Prince’s hunting games.  All the more reason why he needs to stay, safe and sound, with us.”

Elyssa gave Melina a critical eye.  The vampire had been a bit overdramatic in the way she’d said “awful curse”, but otherwise it seemed she was serious.

Gwendis, likewise, seemed fairly serious too, even as she kept lounging on her coffin lid.  

Elyssa sighed, defeated.

“I guess I really should apologize to Kalin for getting irritated with him…”

“If you still don’t believe us, you can check out his tail,” Gwendis chipped in, “Ask if he’ll drop his pants and show you his hindquarters.”

Elyssa flushed red, and was about to reply that she would not, under any circumstances, ask to see the Dunmer’s posterior.

But a strangled noise brought her attention back to Melina, and her eyes narrowed in as the lady vampire struggled to keep a straight face.

“You…” Elyssa accused.  “You both are pulling my leg after all!”

Melina released the laughter she had apparently been holding in, and Gwendis was happy to chuckle alongside her.

“Come on, Mel,” Gwendis accused, “We had something here.”

The other’s laughter died down to a grin.

“Oh but Gwendis, I think you went a little too far with that one.  If she honestly asked Kalin to bare himself…you know how he gets…He’d probably acquiesce.”

“But that was the best part about it.” Gwendis grinned back.

“Well I don’t think it’s very nice,” Elyssa grumbled.

“Come on.” Gwendis said “We’re just teasing ya a bit.  A little hazing just to check if you’re good with our House and all.”

“Besides,” Melina added.  “It was positively adorable that you were willing to believe in weregoats.”

“Yeah.  I’m just so gullible aren’t I?”  Elyssa replied bitterly, remembering what the Count had told her last night about being a little too trusting of people.

“Come now, dear.” Melina said, patting her hand.  “We’re sorry.  Truly.  And how about I put my money where my mouth is and give you extra runestones for your next shipment as a little apology gift?”

“I guess…”  She replied, trying to refrain from any signs that free stuff had indeed perked up her mood just slightly.  

She found out she didn’t need to put much effort into that; the Count himself emerged from his study to interrupt.

“Good morning, Elyssa.  May I have a word with you?”  The statement was short, sweet, and a bit curt. Although that could have just been his High Elven accent.

“Do something naughty while we were gone, did ya?” Gwendis grinned at her just as Elyssa got up to join him.

“Wha—No!  Of course not!”

Gwendis’ chuckle seemed to almost follow her as she joined Verandis by the bookshelves.  This time, he forewent a book in favor of leaning against the shelves, his arms crossed while he regarded her carefully.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”  She stretched out her back a little with a wince. “I even woke up feeling a little like a rock.”

“Probably because you spent the better part of the night sleeping on my floor.  If I hadn’t decided to venture upstairs to dabble with a little more alchemy, you’d have woken up there too.  Why didn’t you drink the potion while you were in bed?”

“I did!” Elyssa cheerfully replied, holding a finger up, “But then I thought it would be a good idea to fetch a little more wine to wash it down.”

His eyebrows rose as he gave her a pointed look

“I mean,” Elyssa continued, her hands dropping to her side again, “At the time it seemed like a good idea.  Obviously it’s not such a good idea after the fact.”

The Count stared at her critically for a good while before he closed his eyes with a sigh.  When he re-opened them, he was back to contemplative again.

“You’re lucky you suffered no serious injuries; you could have easily gained yourself a concussion.  It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive.”

“Hey!”

“Which brings me to the reason I called you here.  I took the liberty of making a full batch of sleeping draught for you.  The bottles are on a tray upstairs labeled with their purpose and your name.”

“Really?”  Elyssa’s face lit up; the potential to actually get decent sleep was literally being handed to her.  “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  This stuff is fantastic; I didn’t dream at all after drinking it.”

“Which is something I need to warn you of.  As you’ve discovered for yourself, the draught places you in a very deep sleep.  Too deep to dream…and most certainly too deep to be easily roused.  If someone were to grab you or hurt you, you will likely not awaken.  Make sure to never take a dose unless you are absolutely certain of your safety.”

She was much less enthusiastic about this caveat; inn rooms were expensive, and camping was often inevitable for a lot of places.

“So…I probably shouldn’t drink any if it’s just me and my sleeping roll out in the open...”

“I would severely recommend against that.  Instead, if you absolutely cannot sleep and cannot find a safe haven, take a quarter dosage.  It will not rid you of your dreams, but it will help keep you from a restless night without sacrificing your ability to respond to potential threats.”

She gave him a wry smile.  “Aaaaand let me guess; I’ll have to come back to you every time I run out, won’t I?  Should I start looking for a house in Rivenspire?”

He waved the questions away.  “No need.  I’ve written down the recipe for you.   Even if you do not feel comfortable brewing it yourself, you need only take the instructions to any community’s resident alchemist.  It’s straightforward enough that any one of them should be able to provide it for you.”

She nodded and mimicked his stance to recline against the bookshelves, albeit from the opposite end.   Silence hung in the air, and he was still regarding her carefully.

“…That’s not all you called me here for.  Is it?”  Elyssa finally spoke up.

“No, it’s not.”  Verandis sighed.  She could tell from his very tone he was contemplating his words carefully. “Elyssa…have you considered spending time in Wayrest for a while?  There’s a flower festival that happens every year around this time, I believe.  I can only vouch for what I’ve seen from afar, but it’s does seem a rather popular event…”

She stared at him incredulously.  “We’re in the middle of a situation where bloodfiends and vampires are trying to take over the entire province…”

“Indeed.  And we have more than enough people here to handle it.”

She winced back as if he had struck her.  ‘We don’t need you’ was the unspoken implication.  

“Oh?  Am I a burden to you now?” She spat back bitterly.

“Child—“

“So what that I’m young?  That I have nightmares, and that you found out about them. Now I’m suddenly too pathetic to be of any use to you, is that right?”

“Listen to me—“

“No, you listen to me!  What was all that stuff you told me last night?  How it was okay to have weaknesses?  I’m grateful you gave me potions to help with my sleep, but I’m not worthless just because I need them!  And you!”

She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You have no right to order me out of Rivenspire like this!  You aren’t my parent.  You aren’t my Emperor.  You’re not even the King of Rivenspire.”

She could tell, from the way his face perceptively changed, that the last statement hit a mark.  But she was too angry to care.

“No.  I’m going to stay right here. I’m going to help defeat Baron Montclair.  I’m gonna fight a whole bunch of bloodfiends to reach him…” She stared him down, fists clenched at her side, “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

He stared back at her, calmly watching for an indication that she was finished.

“Elyssa…”  When he finally spoke, it was soft, slow, and soothing. “I do not believe I ever said you were worthless or pathetic.”

“And yet you’re ordering me to go off prancing at a flower festival.”

“I’m not ordering you to do anything, child.  I’m merely making a suggestion.  A suggestion based on what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me…You need a moment to relax and recover.  One cannot keep shouldering so many burdens without cracking underneath their pressures.”

“But I’m also needed here.  Back at Shornhelm, you said I had powerful light magic.  Better than most.”  She reminded him.   “And that I could be a great help in all this, since we’re fighting people whose very skin cracks under the light…”

“And, to an extent, I stand by those words.  Light magic is notoriously tricky to learn compared to the other elements, and yet it seems to come to you as easily as breathing does.  This is unheard of, particularly for someone at your age.  There are those who would even go so far as to call you a prodigy, myself included.”

The unexpected praise took a little of the edge off her rage.

“But you’re still inexperienced, and it’s painfully obvious you have not had any formal training in combat; your footwork is sloppy and you leave far too many openings for your opponent to take advantage of.  This might not be particularly risky when dealing with mindl0ess bloodfiends, creatures which have very little ability to strategize.  But the full-fledged vampires in Montclair’s army won’t hesitate to use that against you.  Furthermore, why aren’t you using a staff?”

She straightened up with pride.  “Swords are cool.”

He paused as if this was not the answer he was expecting.

“A staff would make a tremendous improvement on your magicka flow.”  He continued on with the same tone of voice.  He had, apparently, elected to ignore her statement. “You might even see an additional threefold improvement in the manifestation of your abilities.”

“But it would leave me wide open.  Greatswords help me guard against blows…”

“And so can staves…”

He walked over to retrieve his own firestaff that had been waiting in the corner for him.  Holding it out for her to look at, he gestured to its components.

“A typical battlestaff is made with combat in mind, and part of that involves the possibility that you will need to block a blow if your opponent finds a way to come within reach.  You can see here how my own weapon has its wood reinforced with a layer of metal.  Furthermore, are the multiple runes embedded into its spine…”

His finger traced over the weapon.  As if in response to its owner’s command, several symbols glowed across the length of it, brightly shining for a brief moment before settling back to normal.

“These, too, are designed with its protection in mind.  And with the mind of maintaining consistent magicka flow.  A staff that can no longer provide a steady resonation with its owner’s power is not only useless, but dangerous.  Such a weapon risks a catastrophic explosion if the user was not careful; thus, the important of the runes.  And as for its bladed tip…”

He gestured to the very top of the staff, in which the blade has been sharpened to fine edge.

“It is not unusual for many staff artisans to include a bladed tip in their work.  It does nothing to impair the staff’s traditional function and offers the advantage to utilize it as a make-shift spear, should the need require it.”

He set the staff aside back in its designated corner.

“Staves may not be as….”  He gave her an indulgent smile “…flashy as some other weapons, but they are nonetheless perfectly viable, and adaptable to changing situations on the battlefield.”

Elyssa grumbled, unimpressed.  “First you order me out of the region, now you’re ordering me to change my weapon—“

“Just another suggestion, Elyssa.  A suggestion,” The Count interrupted with wry smile.  He went to return to his books once again.

“As you say, Father.”  She mockingly shot back.  She waited for a moment to see if he’d react to that, if only just a little bit. But her frustration grew a tad when it was clear he was utterly unfazed by the title, continuing on in his books without so much as a raised eyebrow.

She grumbled again, and turned to leave the library.

“And please do not forget to eat before you leave, my daughter.” He called after her.

She froze in the doorway, and took a moment to glance back at him; her face full of surprise.

His reading was as focused as it always was, but he did pause to look up when he noticed her watching.

“Something wrong?”  He asked, and the very end of his mouth seemed to twist ever so slightly in a smile that almost looked….devious.

“N-no…” She replied shakily, the surprise lining her face beginning to tinge just slightly with mortification.

She thought the damned vampire elf would be too serious to give much of a reaction, let alone throw her comment back in her face.

“Then by all means: do try to make me proud out there.” He turned the page and returned to his books, still with that damnable little smile.

“I---“ Elyssa closed her mouth almost as soon as she’d opened it, before she said anything she might later come to regret, and decided it was far better to just turn around and walk away.

She could hear Gwendis’ muffled, gentle laughter beside her as she passed the coffins, and it only made her more determined to try and keep the red from her face from showing; it was likely most of the vampiric members of the household had overheard.

Melina, too, seemed to struggle with her own smile as Elyssa passed her.

“Oh,” Melina said. “I believe Ophelia made some honey bread this morning, if that pleases you, dear sister.”

“Shut up.”  Elyssa muttered back, and made haste for the guest room before either of them could comment further.

She ignored the tray of alchemy bottles that had been set aside for her on the table, deciding she could figure out the logistics of safely storing them in her pack later.  Once safely within the walls of her temporary bedroom, she made a beeline for her gear.

She was quickly getting used to putting it on; the intricacies that went into the chainmail underside and the straps that accompanied the plate outer layer did not seem to trouble her as much as it did weeks ago.

Her feet brought her to stand in front of the mirror, admiring her work.   She looked almost like a real soldier.

Honorary member of the Lion Guard, Elyssa Arboretum.  

The memory of the guard announcing this while offering the suit of tailored armor played in her head.  It was to be expected: in spite of all the things she had (somehow) managed to accomplish, she wasn’t actually a soldier.  She had no training in their regiment…nor was she even technically a citizen of High Rock.  

‘You’re footwork is sloppy and you leave too many openings’

‘It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive’

These new words began to rotate in her head, churning into doubts.

Most of her opponents, thus far, had either been werewolves overcome by their animalistic desires, nature corrupting spirits, mindless zombies, or clumsy bandits and disorganized cultist members…None of them had combat styles that could be comparable to word “finesse”.  So her usual method of brute forcing her way with powerful spears of light magic before swinging her greatsword around in a haphazard manner had always worked out.  Tactics, strategy, and footwork were never things she ever thought about on a regular basis.

Even with Angof the Gravesinger...he almost seemed like the more she fought with him, the more he just…gave up. As if his motivation to defeat her was shriveling away like the very vines he failed to grow.  Most of his necromantic abilities didn’t stand a chance against the element of light; she barely even needed to concentrate to sweep the floor clear of his zombies.  They faded to dust almost as soon as she touched them with even the dimmest glow of her power.  And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that she had plenty of help at her side at the time…

….

...What if she’d just been lucky so far in her opponents?

That all of her “deeds” were nothing more than the culmination of her brute forcing her own “prodigy-like” magic and having the “Gods’ luck” on her side?

…..

….Was she actually making a difference?

She struck a pose in the mirror, hoping to look impressive decked out in her armor…but her rounded cheeks and short stature did nothing to wipe away the traditional, youthful appearance of a Breton.

Why couldn’t she have inherited at least a little of her Imperial father’s more chiseled features?

She stuck her tongue out at herself, and was greeted with an even more childish sight as a result.  Fully frustrated, she grabbed her pack and stuck a few of her things in it.

She frowned at the alchemy bottles; it was times like these that she wished she had a bigger protective bottle case in her pack.  She was grateful that he made her so much, but there was just a few too many to fit.

And she was hungry.

…She huffed, and decided she’d have to figure out the problem of the bottles later.

As she made her way downstairs, she caught sight of Gwendis and Melina chatting at the dining table; Gwendis finally appeared to have made it off her coffin.  Elyssa was almost tempted to throw a teasing comment at her for that.

Further downstairs was the basement level.

She’d been told it was always kept locked, mostly so that the household (both vampire and servant) could have a place of privacy away from any visiting guests.  The main kitchen was down there, however, and so she found herself knocking at the basement door.

“Why good morning to you, Elyssa!”  The cheerful face of an older, gray haired Imperial woman greeted her.

“Good morning, Ophelia.  Melina told me you have some honey bread all made up?”

“I do.  I do indeed; my lady must have smelled it from the hall.  Come in, sweetie, and I’ll cut you a few slices.”

The basement of Ravenwatch castle was, perhaps, even more homely than its main hall.  Reminiscent of the guest suite, there were no gargoyle statues or eclectic furnishings (save for the two coffins in the center of the room, one of which had to be Melina’s).  A roaring fireplace lit up the place brighter than the other rooms, perhaps for the benefit of the servants as they had their own separate room nearby.

Workstations filled with alchemy ingredients and enchanting components lined the walls.  A mysterious door to an even deeper cellar was in the far corner (she was told it was strictly forbidden to anyone not of the House; and that only made her slightly more curious about it).  Finally, there was a full kitchen to the side; much nicer than the kitchenette of the upstairs guest suite.

Ophelia wasn’t the only servant awake; the others were out and about as well.

The Breton, Estelle, was by the fire, working on some sort of sewing.  She was the only one Elyssa hadn’t formally met; they told her she was of a skittish disposition, particularly around strangers.  From what was mentioned, the Count had found and rescued her from bandits who had badly abused her.  Until she got used to a new person, it was advised for that individual to leave her alone unless absolutely necessary.

Anise, a Bosmer, was at the nearby dining table, a table that was a much smaller twin to the grander one of the main hall.  She….definitely looked like she was still asleep, her small head propped up by her arms at the table.  Narcolepsy was something Ophelia had mentioned; apparently Anise had trouble finding someone to hire her in a ‘traditional’ job because of her condition.  But the household wasn’t perturbed by the idea of narcolepsy, and had hired her practically on the spot the moment she revealed she was perfectly comfortable with the idea of serving vampires.

Ophelia herself was busy cutting an impressively large portion of an equally impressively large loaf of sweet smelling bread.  Elyssa recalled that when she had previously asked what the Imperial thought about living here, the older woman had merely scoffed.  For Ophelia, it was just tradition; her family had served House Ravenwatch for a handful of generations.  She had literally grown up in the castle.  So, naturally, she was quite fine with it all.  

Kalin, one of the ones Elyssa had spoken to the most (but ironically knew the least about), was lounging about at the wall near the kitchen, eyeing her carefully.  The only information she had on the Dunmer was that he was the oldest and longest serving of all the mortals who stayed there.

“So our guest yet lives…”  He said, that slow sardonic drawl of his hanging in the air. “Do tell; how does it feel knowing you survived a night in a vampire’s stronghold?”

“Got better sleep here than in most inn rooms.” She responded, grinning. “You all seem to get along really well with each other.”

He laughed.  “Indeed….we’re quite….close with each other…”

“Kalin,” Ophelia warned.

“Some of us ….closer…than others.”

“Kalin.”

“You might even say it��s a regular Ebony Flask around here--”

Ophelia banged her knife down flat with a loud clunk, staring him down with a none-too pleased grimace.

“What’s an Ebony Flask?” Elyssa asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Now you see?  She’s only going to start asking more questions…” Ophelia said.

“What…Is it something bad?”

“Not at all…” Kalin continued, an exceptionally wolfish grin lining his face. “Ophelia is only upset because sometimes even she—“

“That’s it!”  Ophelia pointed her knife at him from afar. “You. Out of my kitchen!”

“My work here is done…” Kalin stated in monotone, impish grin still on his lips as he strolled out the basement doors.

He held it open for Gwendis, who had found her way downstairs.

“Gwendis!”  Elyssa approached her “Kalin said it’s like a regular Ebony Flask around here; what does that mean?”

Whatever emotion Gwendis’ face had before vanished as she stared off into the distance with pursed lips.  She took a deep breath through her nose…

….Then turned and walked right back through the basement doors again.

“Wha-Gwendis?!”

“Never you mind that, sweetie.”  Ophelia interjected with an almost strangled voice.  “Why don’t you come and have some breakfast?  I made you some eggs and bacon too; I think you could use the protein, going out to fight as you do.  Might even put a little meat on those bones.”

Melina was next to come through the doors, clutching her satchel of runes and yawning all the while. And Elyssa immediately abandoned her breakfast plate to jump on the opportunity.

“Melina!  Kalin talked about an ‘Ebony Flask’.  What does he mean by that?”

Melina paused mid yawn, a curious expression forming on her face.

“Oh Elyssa…” She sighed.  “I’m afraid I’m much too tired to have this conversation.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest…”

“My lady, I must protest!” Ophelia exclaimed.

Melina gained a rather mischievous smile at Ophelia’s outburst. “Very well.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest AND after Ophelia has gone to bed.”

“My lady, please.”

Elyssa grinned as Melina gave her a little wink.  Seeing that, Ophelia’s protestations started to die down into more of a sputter.

“Herding cats around here…” Elyssa could hear Ophelia mutter under her breath as the older woman re-doubled her cleaning efforts. “Some days, I swear…”

But Elyssa was far more interested in what Melina was doing: heading towards one of the stone coffins in the main area of the room.  

Melina caught sight of her following close behind.

“Curious, are we?” She asked with a slightly amused smile.

“I just want to see what’s in it.” Elyssa beamed back at her.

“What might you think is in it?” Melina cocked her head slightly.

“I…”  Elyssa tried to think of all the vampire stories she knew.  Which wasn’t very helpful. She knew they supposedly slept in coffins, but she never really heard any stories about what they slept with. “…Jewels?”

The lady vampire laughed. “I’m not a dragon!”

The coffin lid scraped across its base as she moved it, revealing a cushioned lining, a small horde of pillows and a patterned blanket.  Though the outside was drab stone, the inside looked…rather homey.  For a coffin.

“Not quite what you were hoping for?” Melina asked, as it seemed she noticed her dismay.  

“I don’t know.”  Elyssa frowned.  “Why not just sleep in a bed then?”

The vampire bit at her lower lip in contemplation.

“Well…I can’t speak for the others…But in my case…”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “I--the first days of my new life were spent constantly under threat from the sun, even when I tried to sleep….especially when I tried to sleep.  I developed a bit of a phobia for it.  And after a while, I just started to feel…more at ease in places that were dark and enclosed.”

She fondly traced the edges of the lid.  “Sleeping in a box of some sort is the easiest way to accomplish that.  But they don’t usually make human shaped cargo boxes...And asking for one would likely raise too many questions…But coffins…”

The vampire waved towards her open resting place.

“...Coffins are requested all the time.  Even coffins ordered to your exact specifications; no one ever bats an eye over measurements…It’s a convenience, really.”

“So…you could sleep in a bed if you wanted to?”

“The bed itself certainly wouldn’t kill us.  But….our reactions aren’t always fast when we’re groggy and it’s the middle of the day, so if someone were to open the drapes on any of us while we lay exposed and slumbering…”

“But all of the windows here are glazed over; I could open all the drapes in the castle and the sun still wouldn’t touch you…And I mean…there can’t be that many people who would do something that horrible to you in the first place…”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Elyssa.”  Melina smiled kindly.  “It isn’t true, and I think you know that, but it’s very sweet of you to say nonetheless.  There are plenty of people out there who wouldn’t hesitate…so…Just…think of the coffin in the same way you’d think of a stuffed toy that a child would cling to; it brings me comfort and assurance to know the sun can’t touch me so long as I’m inside.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to sleep now?”   Elyssa watched as Melina kicked off her shoes and settled down among the bright interior of her coffin.

“Mmmm…Indeed.  I just simply can’t keep my eyes open any longer…”  She sighed happily as she nuzzled one of her pillows.  “Won’t you be a dear and close my lid for me?”

“Wait…”  Elyssa gestured to the coffin opposite of hers.  “Before I do, I wanted to ask: there’s five coffins total, but I thought there was only four of you…”

“Oh…that one would belong to my dear, sweet brother…”  Melina lazily said, already with half lidded eyes. “You won’t likely meet him; he’s gone and locked himself in the cellar.  Out of abundance of caution, mostly.  He’s been having difficulties these days, and…oh, well, he’s such a sweetheart; he’d do anything to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone…”

“I see….” Elyssa said, suddenly solemn as she stared out towards the cellar hatch.  “I hope he feels better.”

“Indeed, as do I.  I so hate to think of him stuck down there, but it was his choice and my Lord approved…”

She let out another yawn.  “Ah…oh, excuse me.  I’m so sorry, Elyssa.  But I must really bid you a good day; I cannot possibly stay awake a moment longer.  Please promise you’ll stay safe.  I’ve already become a bit fond of you, and I would hate it terribly if you were injured….”

“I’ll promise I’ll try not to die.  Have a good night…erm…I mean day.  Have a good day, Melina.”

Melina gave her one last, sweet smile as Elyssa pushed close the lid.

…It was a lot heavier than anticipated.

She had to shove her shoulder against it just to get it shut.  The clunk of the stone finding the indentation on its base was louder than she’d thought it would be and caused her to jump.

Giving one last look towards the cellar hatch, as if expecting another vampire to appear any moment, Elyssa went back to the table.  Eggs, bacon, and honey bread were shoveled down as fast as she could manage.

~~~

She walked out of the basement a little too full; Ophelia had insisted on giving her a second helping of eggs and bacon, and had even tried for a third.  Given the sort of conversations that had accompanied breakfast, Elyssa had a nagging feeling that the older woman had been desperately trying to distract her from Ebony Flasks.  And, of course, that did nothing but make her more curious.  

Chances were, Ophelia would manage to talk Melina out of explaining it later.

So instead of heading towards the front door with her pack, she made a quick beeline for Gwendis, who had gone back to lounging atop her coffin.

“Psst….Gwendis?  Gwendis, what’s an Ebony Flask?”  She gave the vampire a few pokes in the arm that was covering her eyes.  The skin was oddly cold compared to a mortal’s.

…And the vampire didn’t budge.

“I know you know.  You had that look on your face when I asked about it before, so don’t think you can pretend otherwise.”

And the vampire still didn’t budge.

“Aww come on.  You can’t be asleep already.  And even if you were, there’s a tasty mortal inches from your face nudging you with her fingers.  If that doesn’t wake up a vampire, I don’t know what would.  So what’s an Ebony Flask?  Is it a type of skooma?  Do you all get together to use skooma?  I won’t judge; I promise.”

She could see Gwendis’ lips twitching against her pale face, but otherwise she continued to remain still.

Elyssa huffed.  “Fine.  Be that way.  I give up.  Have a good nigh—day.  Day!  Ugh.  Whatever.”

She passed by Verandis’ study on her way out.  He was still in there, working away at his books, as usual.  Elyssa was partly tempted to go in and ask him about Ebony Flasks and what that had to do with House Ravenwatch.

But she was still too irritated at him to even make the attempt, and that pushed all other thoughts away; so much so that she simply headed outside without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to him.

The bright sun greeted her as soon as she pushed open the heavy oak doors. She stopped to stretch out as she basked in the warmth.

“Hey don’t forget…” Gwendis’ voice came echoing through the halls behind her, proving that she hadn’t been asleep after all, “…Watch out for the weregoats out there.”

Elyssa’s irritation was matched only by the intensity of how hard she slammed their front door shut.

“I hate you all.” She muttered under her breath.  Not that she completely meant it.  

But her irritation only grew further as she noticed a bloodfiend at the edge of town, happily gorging itself on a dead citizen.  

…

……It was like breathing; such an apt description that Verandis had given her earlier that it became hard for her to think of it otherwise.

Warmth filled the tips of her fingers, a growing sensation that shifted through her palm like a liquid.

Coalescing.  Expanding.  An extension of her arm, of her will.  She often found she only needed to hold the image of a spear in her mind for it to form.  And with two steps taken, her momentum helped to send the whole thing forward, hurling through the air.

What was only mere moments resulted in a motionless bloodfiend, a bright spear of solid-like light skewered into its chest.

Unfortunately, it seemed she attracted some attention; another figure lurking in the shadows manifested itself right next to the dead bloodfiend.  She readied herself another spear….

…Only to then dissipate the light in her hands when she realized the second figure had cat ears.

And she winced when a rather irate Adusa-daro came towards her.

“H-Hi…Adusa….”  She nervously greeted.

“Adusa would appreciate…” The Khajiit began with a glower.  “…If the young one would please stop throwing such powerful holy magic so close to this one’s fur…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!  I just didn’t see you there when you’re dressed in all black like that!”

“Yes yes; this is exactly the sort of thing Adusa is worried about…”  Adusa grumbled, but she didn’t actually seem too upset at her.

Then again, it was difficult to tell; the Khajiit’s black and flowing cloak was surely thick enough to ensure no sunlight ever peaked through, and most definitely dark enough to obscure any body language.  It looked to be made of the same fine material as the one she’d seen Verandis wear the other day, and she was sure that, like Verandis’, it held a dark grey outline of their house crest on the back as well.

…Although Verandis’ cloak didn’t exactly have cat ear protrusions on the hood; that would have been a definite improvement. (She made a mental note to herself to tell him to get some cat ears on his cloak.  Since he was so eager to give her ‘suggestions’ before, he surely wouldn’t mind receiving ‘suggestions’ in return.).

Elyssa frowned as she attempted to figure out where among the bloodfiends the vampire had been lurking.  She only found more bloodfiends.

Which only made her frown more because…well….bloodfiends.

“How can you stand all this going on right outside your doorstep?  With these poor people like….like this…?”

She vigorously gestured towards a few of the creatures shambling close by.

“Patience, young one.  Tell this one; what is the most important thing we must focus on?”

“Killing Montclair?”

“Yes, good.  And what else?”

Elyssa strained herself to think: what else was there besides killing Montclair and dispatching bloodfiends?

“….Er…Killing Montclair…a second time…?”

Adusa groaned. “The living, Elyssa.  Living people are important, yes?  We must kill Montclair and make sure any living survivors are safe.  These are the two most important of all things that we must do.”

She could hear the khajiit grunt in disgust as she waved towards the bloodfiends.

“These….creatures.  They can wait until later…The dead will always be here later…The living?  Not so much.”

“Sorry; I guess I just took it for granted that we’d help the survivors.  I mean…why wouldn’t we?  But these bloodfiends here…they do still bother you…right?”  Elyssa asked in a quiet voice.

Adusa was in the process of taking down fabric around the face area, which suggested that the cloak, like typical Breton hoods, had a built in face mask.  

“We may not have always spoken much to the people here…” Adusa said. Pain on her face as cat-like eyes scanned over the town.  “But the ones of Crestshade…they were good people.  They do not deserve such a fate.  It is….very, very difficult to watch.  These townsfolk deserve to be put to rest, and not wander like filthy beasts.”

“Is there a chance that Montclair would use these ones for his army?”

The khajiit shook her head.

“Look at them, young one.  They are baking in the sun, and they do not even realize it hurts…Montclair would not win this war on the backs of freshly burnt carcasses falling to pieces.  No, the bloodfiends sent here were clearly only meant to coax the people out of their homes and scattered on the winds.  To turn to the curse any of those who could not make it out…less people he would have to cow to his would-be rule…”

Adusa’s fangs protruded as she softly snarled, her ears hunched back.  “…This one also thinks he may have been trying to mock us a little as well…Send bloodfiends to attack the town while we all were away as an insult to all of our efforts…”

Elyssa remained silent.

She didn’t know how to respond except to look out again amongst the bloodfiends stumbling across the ground…

Their bodies did seem like they were coming apart at the seams; many of them had sun wounds that burrowed straight through their skin, creating gaping holes that only hindered their movements more.

“We must rest and work and focus on the two most important things, Elyssa.  Never forget the priorities. And speaking of which: Adusa is glad to have caught you before you left.  She has need of you.  You will help, yes?”

“What needs to be done?”

“Adusa has been scouting to see how far Montclair’s army has taken its curse, how far it has spread.  They have taken over a small town called Moira’s Hope in the south.  This one could smell the blood of the living there...but there are also many, many bloodfiends as well.  She will need help to cut a path through…and perhaps help with the survivors as well; they are more likely to trust a fellow mortal than Adusa, and there may be need to get them out quickly…”

“Right! I’m with you; I just need to go and get Justice ready…”

“Justice?”  Adusa followed Elyssa around back to their stables.

“My horse.”

“…Is that not…How does one say?  ‘A little on the nose’?”

“Oh I didn’t name her that.  That was the name she came with.  If you can believe it, I got her for free from this cranky old Imperial man.”   Elyssa’s face screwed up as she recalled the memory. “All eight of his horses were white Imperial thoroughbreds, and ALL of them were named Justice….”

Adusa looked at her with incredulity.  “…Did he not have trouble telling them apart?”

“He was so angry; I was afraid to ask too many questions.” She flashed Adusa a nervous smile.

“Very generous, a whole horse….”

“I don’t think he could afford to take care of them all after he’d been displaced from the war.  And I think he was also looking to help other citizens of Cyrodiil, because he only offered her to me when he found out I was a fellow refugee…”

Her comment cut short and her muscles tensed up when she came face to face…with him.

He was hanging out, casually, by the awning of the stables, right next to Justice.

He lifted his head to watch her as she approached.

Her arch-nemesis.

The bane of her existence.

                                     The damned goat.

Her blue eyes narrowed in on him; her stance braced for impact.

He stared back, creepy little sideways pupils watching her as if to size her up.

She took a few sidesteps to the right, maintaining eye contact.

He mirrored her maneuver, his soft bleating filled with obvious faux innocence.

She stopped.

He stopped.

The irritating fiend was playing hardball.

Slowly, she inched her way towards her horse, eyes dead center on her foe in anticipation of the slightest mo—

“What...”  Adusa’s voice intervened, “…In the name of the blessed moons are you doing?”

“Your goat is pure ev—“

Only a moment; Elyssa had only looked away from her dreaded foe for a moment, and the beast, sensing weakness, lowered its horned head to charge.  Just barely was she able to escape the horror of it all by scrambling up the stable post with a yelp.

Adusa stood where she was, her arms crossed, and surveyed the scene with eyes aglow with amusement.

“Hibiscus must like you.  She does not usually react in such a manner with anyone else…”

“You call this liking?” Elyssa grimaced as she clung to the stable post and tried to shoo the goat away by waving one foot while trying to balance on the other.  “Look at the eyes, Adusa!  Those are the eyes of a bloodthirsty creature who has killed before…and will kill again!”  

“Speaking as one who knows bloodthirsty creatures, Adusa can assure that Hibby is both safe and does not consume blood,” Adusa began to make her way back around the castle.  “This one will see you at Moira’s Hope, then.”

“Wha-you’re leaving me??!”  Hibiscus the goat was already making the attempt to scale up the stable walls just to get to her enemy.

“Adusa has every confidence you can handle little Hibby.  If not, Hibby’s treat bag is at the right of yourself. Feed her no more than three whole apples; a fat Hibby would make Anise very concerned.”

And with a wave over her shoulder, the hooded Adusa was gone.

Elyssa turned to her adversary.

“So….You’re a girl goat, huh?  That’s quite a coincidence.  I happen to be a girl human.  We have so much in common; please stop trying to kill me.”

The horizontal goat pupils didn’t seem to falter, and she idly wondered if goats were carnivorous.

Her fingers strained as she tried to reach the treat bag, but she only ended up in an awkward, stretched out position with her torso still at the post and the weight of her upper half held up by her reaching fingers.  She looked at her horse, who was calmly grazing at a pile of hay.

“A little help?” She asked, not actually expecting her horse to respond.

Sure enough, the horse stared back at her, unfazed and ignorant of her situation, before dipping its head to take in another mouthful of hay.

“First Adusa, now you; the double betrayal hurts just a little bit.”  She said, purposefully overdramatic.  If only to make herself feel better about the whole situation.

The goat seemed to be getting impatient, as it begun to ram its horned head against the sides of the stable.  As if to try and knock her down.

“I have to wonder if you really are trying to kill me…” Elyssa winced as she made a solid lunge for an apple peeking out of the leather bag.   Another effortful motion and an apple was tossed as far away as she could manage.

It was a gift from the Gods that Hibby’s priorities involved eating first and everything else second; Elyssa was finally free to drop down.  Not necessarily in an elegant way, given her strained position; she ended up with a face full of hay, with her horse making the move to try and lick it off her face.

Straightened up with hay brushed off, she moved to get her horse’s tack on as quick as she possibly could before the demonic goat got back.  Part of which required giving a jealous Justice an apple of her own to get her to cooperate.

Her weapons and pack at the ready, she hoisted herself up atop her steed; just in time to watch a distraught Hibby cower from Justice’s mightier hooves.  Up high on a horse, she felt a bit more like a knight, regardless of whatever her image in the mirror had shown her before.

Ready to take on the world itself.

A click of the tongue and a flick of the reins, and she was well on her way.

Racing past the bloodfiends as the sun shone in the sky.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Author note: Bold of you to assume Verandis wouldn’t adopt your rebellious mortal ass, Elyssa.

[haematicmagic]

So you seriously don’t know what podcast to listen to next? On tumblr? Alright…

Buckle up bc this is the storytelling fiction-podcast Megapost. These are all fiction podcasts that are not Talkshows or dnd podcasts, but storydriven. Some i have listened to, some I havent. Most, if not all of these, you can probably find on YouTube or Podbean.

DONE: (7)

These are podcasts that i have finished or caught up with as of March 2020. I can’t speak for newer seasons, but I’ll try to give an impression of them:

Welcome to Nightvale

(a classic and many people’s hook into podcasts. Tells the story of a strange desert town through local radio. Complete with all kind of LGBT+ representation, a gay canon main character, absolute weirdness and a lovably terrible antagonist, this still running podcast is an absolute must-try)

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel Plotline

(The story of a genderfluid depressed detective on mars and his dangerous dance with a mysterious master thief, told in a beautifully sound-designed ongoing podcast.)

The Magnus Archives

(This still-running podcast starts relatively slowly but really takes off after the first season, telling one short horror story per episode and building a intricate metaplot about an asexual archivist with big dumbass energy and his assistants)

Wolf 359

(A walking pop culture refrence, a mom-friend boss, a crazy russian scientist and a glitchy AI live and work in a space station about 7 light years from earth. Besides a plant monster, mutiny and betrayal, this finished podcast also has a well-rounded and memorable cast that you’ll be sure to love)

Eos 10

(Dr Ryan Dalias is transferred to Eos 10 as part of the medical team, which formerly had been led by a drunk misanthrope and a nurse with a very particular skillset. While trying to deal with a hypochondriac royal, an abnormal Christmas tree and a terrorist, this rather lighthearted podcast has its genuine moments)

Gay Future

(a more or less sarcastic podcast based on the fanatic homophobic ideas of Mike Pence, this short podcast is set in a dystopian future in which everyone is gay and makes fun of YA books, heteronomy and a bunch of other stuff along the way)

Alice isn’t dead

(an extremely atmospheric podcast from the same people that made nightvale which follows an anxious truck driver looking for her wife. A lot of American Gothic, excellent atmosphere and genuinely heartfelt comments on love, humanity and freedom make this a true experience)

ARCHIVE 81

(For those of you that loved Nightvale and TMA but wished they were both a little weirder, comes Archive 81. What i can only describe as the american version of The Magnus Archives, Archive 81 is a interesting horror podcast following several plotlines including but not limited to an archivist, a man mostly made out of radio, a dark ritual and a man made out of static.)

IN PROGRESS: (7)

Podcasts that i am currently listening to/catching up on and thus can already reccomend, but not fully comment on.

Within the Wires

(one story per season, the first being subliminal messages being told through relaxation tapes)

The Bright Sessions

(the recordings of therapy sessions for supernaturally talented humans)

Kingfalls AM

(the Radiostation of Kingfalls, a weird little town in america)

The White Vault

(a rescue team is sent to a remote outpost in the arctic)

The Habitat

(a team of trainees is sent to live isolated in a simulation of a space station. Not fictional, real life recordings)

Start with this

(a podcast about making podcasts)

TO DO:

Podcasts that have been reccomended to me but that i haven’t tried. Feel free to add reviews or podcasts.

Wooden Overcoats

The Black Tapes

The Adventure Zone

Palimpsest

Starship Iris

Limetown

Ars Paradoxica

Kakos Industries

SAYER

The Amelia Project

Inkwyrm

uncanny County

Star Stripper

Radiolab

the Truth Podcast

Alba Salinx

The Penumbra Podcast (Second Citadel Storyline)

Zero Hours

Outliers

Death by dying

Mission to Zyxx

RABBITS

Station to station

caravan

The 12:37

Under Pressure

What’s the frequency

We fix Space Junk

beef and dairy network

the bunker

the far meridian

girl in space

mabel

Editing for some additions:

the adventures of sir Rodney the root

I am in eskew

the godshead incidental

Limetown

hello from the magic tavern

the culling

the empty man cometh

the big loop

Old Gods of Appalachia

The Critshow

Unwell

And, not to be a dirty, dirty, self promoter or anything, but if you liked the Magnus Archives, Alice isnt Dead or Within The Wires, i'm myself working on a podcast focused on possibly-fae related disappearances and a old journal and will update on my tumblr when it starts airing

[sell-our-skins]

Day 4 of Paradise Motel Week Post Canon AO3 Link ~ Hum Hallelujah “Trying to honor the dead is really difficult when the person who killed them is *right there*”

The Girl was struggling to close her backpack. It was a fairly cheap thing, recently bought by her mom. The shade reminded her of apricots, and all of the times she used to steal fruit flavored candies with Ghoul. Actual fruits were impossible to come by in the zones, or at least they used to be, but with BL/ind being gone, she supposed that she could try a real one now.

It was hot in the car. She was sitting in the passenger seat and the sun was beating down on her through the windshield. Her door was open, occasionally giving a short gust of wind. ‘Mom’s getting the keys,’ she told herself. Soon she could crank up the air conditioning and try to relax. That was, if the bag would actually close.

The zipper refused to budge. She gave it another exasperated tug, “Motherfucker,” she hissed out. Stupid zipper. Stupid backpack.

“Motorbaby?” Maya poked her head into the front seat of the van. Her dark hair, which was streaked with the occasional grey, was pulled up into a loose bun and a leather jacket thrown over a plain green tank top, “You need help?”

The Girl sighed, silently handing her mom the backpack in defeat. Maya smiled warmly, opening up the glovebox in front of the Girl with a gentle click. It was filled to the brim with trinkets from their adventures so far. The older Killjoy pulled out a half melted blue candle and began to carefully rub it over the zipper lining.

The Girl arched one of her eyebrows.

“Don’t question me, child of mine,” she warned with a chuckle, setting the candle down on the dashboard. Maya firmly grabbed the stubborn zipper, and closed the bag with ease.

“I take back my eyebrow raise. You’re clearly a deity in disguise,” Maya rolled her eyes, handing the Girl her bag and buckling herself up. The Girl carefully set the fruit-colored-bag in the backseat.

Maya started the van, and she started to head towards Route Guano. It was only now sinking in, what they were doing and where they were going. The Girl could feel her stomach flip with anxiety and her head filling with doubts.

It was apparently visible in her face, since her mom commented on it, “You know, we don’t have to do this. We could… make an altar for ourselves. Just a family thing.”

She actually considered it for a second, but no. She wasn’t going to let some asshole ruin her day

“I’ll be fine.”

--=+=--

The two Killjoys pulled up to the Ultra V hideout, which was formally some type of restaurant. A fast food place, most likely, but it was nearly unrecognizable. It was covered in spray painted tags and other interesting looking ornaments. However, today, it was also decorated with different types of desert wildflowers.

Pretty much as soon as the car had stopped, a teal haired Killjoy burst through the front of the restaurant, followed by their pink haired twin.

“KIIIIIIID! KID KIID!” the twins called out, running towards the car as fast as they could. The Girl felt a little smile appear on her face as she opened the door and hopped out of the van. Instantly, Vaya had pulled her into a tight hug and loudly exclaimed, “I can’t believe you actually came!”

“Yeah, glad you could make it, tumbleweed,” Vamos tried to play faer previous excitement off casually. Fae leaned against the van, a caricatured version of looking cool. Though they somehow made it work.

“Don’t scratch the paint, pup,” Maya piped up, hopping out of their car with a bag slung over her shoulder, “Can ya’ lend me a hand?”

“‘Course, Ms. Psychic,” Vaya called out, letting go of the girl and rushing to the other side of the van, their sibling following closely behind.

Merely a few seconds later, Vinyl came walking towards the group. The Girl gave him a wave, grabbing her apricot backpack from the backseat. Vinyl pointed at her backpack, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, I got it. You can see if mom needs help, though,” he nodded at her words and travelled around the vehicle. The Girl glanced over at the doorway. The last member of the Ultra Vs was just standing there. Staring back at her and leaning against the doorway. His hair had faded slightly, turning a sort of pinkish red.

She sighed and looked up into the sky. Probably around 4.

‘You’ve been through hell and back you can deal with this,’ she ran a hand through her hair and made her way into the Ultra V hideout. Val’s eyes were practically staring right through her. Like a snake watching its prey. The Girl just tried to not acknowledge it.

She looked around at the now decorated restaurant. There were a handful of wildflowers in a variety of colors in cans and petals on the ground. A desk had been pushed out into the front room, making a makeshift altar. It was extremely plain, the only things on it being a faded polaroid of Volume in a soft yellow frame, a couple bad luck bead bracelets placed on the corners of the picture frame, a bag of chips, most likely stolen from Tommy, and a hair dye kit in Electric Frankenstein.

She opened up her bag and began to pull things out of it. Beads, photos, and other precious items. The Girl started to add things to their shared altar, making sure everyone had a section. Her family, her friends, no one was left out.

“Surprised you’re even here, halo head,” Val finally piped up, after what quite possibly could have been the most awkward silence.

‘Halo head,’ she mused to herself, ‘haven’t heard that one in a minute.’

“I’m here to help, don’t get sour,” she said with a sigh, carefully setting out both the battery powered and real candles.

“Help with what? None of this even… matters,” he moved away from his spot in the doorway and towards the altar she was working on.

She didn’t even dignify his sentence by turning to look at him, continuing to set out the picture frames. Val was just trying to get a rise out of her, she knew it.

“I mean, what deity is this for, again?”

“The Phoenix Witch,” the Girl strung a string of bad luck beads around the top of the desk.

“Yeah, the humanoid in a feather coat.”

She gave Val a somewhat annoyed look from over her shoulder, “Just a few months ago you saw me explode into a ball of green electricity,” she went back to what she was doing.

That seemed to set him off, really make him flare up, “I’m not gonna let some bomb with a silver tongue make my crew-”

“Heyyyyy!” Vaya announced their presence as they burst in through the front door. When they noticed how tense Val was, they cleared their throat, “Hope I didn’t interrupt your little get together.”

“Nope, we’re fine,” the Girl put on a fake smile. Apparently it was believable enough, because they let it go with a shrug.

Vaya was followed in by the rest of the Killjoys, all holding different bags filled with goodies.

Val’s anger seemed to fizzle out, since he practically slunk back into the background. It was like a sparkler, going from loud, bright, and fiery to silent in a matter of minutes. A sparkler in Poison Red hair dye. It still made her frown when she thought of it.

--=+=--

The altar was almost completely done, and Vamos was helping with the finishing touches. It was packed full of gifts and photographs, all meant to honor the ghosted. Maya, Vinyl, and Vaya were all in the restaurant’s kitchen, cooking both for the altar and for all of the other Killjoys. There was laughter coming from the kitchen. Well, Vaya and Maya were laughing, Vinyl was trying to fight the smile that wanted to appear on his face. The others were able to hear due to the openness of the restaurant. Val was hunched over on the couch, scribbling in his notebook.

“Lookin’ pretty shiny,” Vamos adjusted one of the frames near the back, since the glare of the lights had made it difficult to see. In it was a photo of Dr. Death Defying and Cherri Cola that the Girl had stolen out of Dr. Death’s station. Faer smile faded almost instantly.

“Christ, I kinda miss the old man,” fae mumbled, tone somewhat sorrowful, maybe even regretful. Fae brushed some of their neon hair out of faer eyes and continued to stare at the frame for a moment. Val shifted on the couch, no longer hunched over. No, now he was listening.

“Yeah, but, I guess… it happens… in a way?” the Girl struggled to find the words, she could feel herself getting somewhat choked up.

“It wasn’t his time,” Maya added, her tone laced with bitterness, “It’s a damn shame, but he’s with the witch now”

“God can you hear yourselves? He was a broken record. A dust angel. What’s the point of all of this?” Val’s voice snapped through the conversation. Everyone was tensely staring at Val, now. A stiff silence having come over the room.

“You wouldn’t know a broken record if you were hit over the head with one,” the Girl snapped back, after what felt an eternity, “The hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just enjoy something for once?”

Val wrinkled his nose at her, storming out of the building without another word. Fuck.

“Guess you really blew up on him,” Maya tried, her joke falling flat.

--=+=--

It had only been around 15 minutes. The Girl hesitantly poked her head out of the door, looking at Val, who was sitting on the stairs.

“What?” he didn’t look up at her, like he thought the pavement was the most interesting thing in the zones. The stars were just starting to pop up in the sky, the sun sinking behind its spot in the hills.

The Girl just plopped down next to him and stared up at the sky, “You don’t have to like me, Val.”

Val looked up from his pavement, staring at the Girl with a look of mostly confusion.

“We just can’t keep pretending like we aren’t bothered by each other,” she ran a hand through her hair, focusing on a particularly bright star.

There was a beat of silence, “And I know you’re too stubborn to agree. It’s fine,” she hoped that her words came off as lighthearted. The last thing she needed was Val snapping at her again.

“You like the stars?” he finally spoke up.

She broke her staring contest with the bright star to glance at her fellow Killjoy, “Yeah, uh…” The Girl ran a hand through her hair again, debating whether to share what just popped into her head.

“Party, they used to tell me that when you got ghosted you would get turned into a star,” Val looked over at her, his face unreadable, “It always made me feel better, when I would hear people talking about claps going South on the radio. Made me feel like they were just… turning into stardust.”

He looked like he was processing her words, struggling to find the right response.

“Shiny,” is what he finally landed on.

“Yeah, shiny.”

[xseamus]

⧼  jordan fisher, cismale, he/him   /   KODACHROME by PAUL SIMON + that part of your left eyebrow that never quite grew back after you-know-what, and that singed corner in your apartment that you swore you would clean up but still haven’t gotten around to, and the scorching memories of times you’d rather forget, but still they stay, just like the scar on your brow and the burn in your home. hugging your friends so tight it’s almost too hard to breathe, and even then only letting go when they ask you over and over again. singing and dancing and drinking and causing a ruckus, until the night grows old and there’s hardly anyone left, so you’re left chatting with a warm drink in your hand until finally, finally, you need to sleep.   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that SEAMUS FINNIGAN? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the 24 year old [ half blood ] WIZARD is a [ GRYFFINDOR alumnus who has gone on to be a QUIDDITCH COMMENTATOR. ]. i’ve heard they can be quite LIVELY & DETERMINED, but i don’t know… they came off very IMMATURE & HEADSTRONG in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   

hello everyone!!! i’m cas, i’m so excited to be here and write with you all! for the RECORD, this is my first ever golden-trio rp, and therefore my first everrrrr time writing dear seamus, so this is gonna be a fun journey!!!!! pls bear with me while i figure him out <3 (also, i guarantee u i’m gonna forget about the irish accent constantly while i write, so pls use ur imaginations djgkdjgfksdg)

i’ll set y’all up with the classic: “me dad’s a muggle, mam’s a witch. bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

so yup, he’s a half-blood! from good ol’ kenmare, ireland, where his father lived most his life - he met seamus’ mother in america on a business trip, and they quickly fell in love. she moved to ireland to live with him, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

she did forget to mention she was a witch until long after they were married and seamus was born, when he first started showing signs of magic by accidentally turning the cat pink, crying, and turning half the carpet the same ugly shade of pink - in that order. 

seamus was is hm.... how 2 say this simply..... a chaotic child. finally turning 11 and getting his hogwarts letter was a big sigh of relief for his parents, who loved him very much but were very excited to finally have some peace and quiet in the household!!!

seamus was equally as excited - the muggle school he was enrolled in was boring, and while he had a decent amount of friends from taking up the title of “class clown,” this paired with the occasional bout of accidental magic got him into a decent amount of trouble. 

some of his favorite things about his time at hogwarts, in no particular order: DADA classes, hogsmeade trips, dean thomas, quidditch games, the rest of his friends, gryffindor parties, great hall feasts.

some of his least favorite things about his time at hogwarts, in no particular order: realizing that he wasn’t that special because now everybody else could do magic too (and many of them were better than him at it), potions classes, quidditch tryouts, most slytherins (he’s a biased lad, what can he say). 

when shit got real, to put it lightly, seamus didn’t want to believe any of it. he was kind of a brat at first (i say as if he still isn’t a big brat constantly), refusing to believe that you-know-who was back and that war was at their doorstep. he argued with his classmates about it constantly, until finally the truth was undeniable and he allowed himself to be dragged (see: he asked if he could come) to the dumbledore’s army meetings. 

and then seventh year, his mom almost didn’t allow him to return to hogwarts because of how bad everything had gotten. she reminded him that he was still just a half blood, and even if things were okay for them at the time, there was no guarantee it would stay that way.

seamus did a lot of growing up that year (better late than never), fully investing in dumbledore’s army and helping the younger students deal with everything going on, all of it culminating with the battle of hogwarts 

the battle of hogwarts was chaotic, hard to place any specific thing - a cacophony of flashing lights and shouting and people falling around him. he remembers three things: 1) blowing up the bridge (while the battle itself could obviously not be described as anything close to fun..... come on, that was pretty great), 2) learning his corporeal patronus was a fox (nice), and 3) watching a curse come at him straight from you-know-who’s wand, only to be blocked by harry potter. 

after all of that, well, it was just a matter of picking up the pieces, wasn’t it? he helped fix up hogwarts where he could, spent some time at home with his parents, and sorted things out. he didn’t ever really give himself time to think about the events of his last year at hogwarts, because he didn’t want to think about it. he still doesn’t ever really talk about it; we love repression, babey! 

after a bit of time at home he decided to move to a very cheap apartment in london bc he wanted to experience the Big City:tm:, where he quickly got a job as a quidditch commentator with [insert generic news station here, cas is tired] which he absolutely fell in love with. he gets to travel to quidditch games all over europe - and the globe during world cup season - and he’s quick to tell people he’s famous in the sports world (hardly true, but some people recognizing his name has gone to his head). in the quidditch off-season (and during some messy overlap), he’s a muggle sports commentator, mostly sticking to tennis. 

he’s a bit of a mess but he’s got a heart of gold, sometimes he just needs a lil shoving in the right direction. he loves his friends & his family more than life itSELF and he’ll do anything (see: anything) for ‘em. unless they do something to piss him off, then they get approx. 1-2 weeks of The Seamus-Free Zone before he drops his grudge and all returns to normal

i’m getting out of control so i’m ending it here but pls plot with me and vibe with seamus thank u the end <3

potential connections:

FIRST OFF i’m down for L I T E R A L L Y anything so if you think lil seamus over here might fit a wanted connection you have PLEASE lmk bc i’d love to do anythingggggg

an ex or two, spicy spicy (seamus is bi so the possibilities are endless, as the kids say)

a roommate (oh my god they were roommates; seamus does like hosting get togethers at their place so they’ll either be chill w/ it and enjoy the parties orrrrr they think seamus is the worst roommate ever)

friendsssss gimme friends of all types for this lad 

enemiessss, seamus is v hotheaded & it’s easy for people to get on his nerves, but it’s also very easy for him to get on other people’s nerves

fellow quidditch fans, he does give out his spare press tickets like candy, feel free to take him up on that offer 

and more! endless possibilities 

lil fun things:

he’s a big mama’s boy, 10,000%, loves his mom so frickin’ much 

in the world of sports commentary, he’s quite popular among younger fans because he’s extremely biased in quite a comedic way, and he’s gathered quite a decent following for being “that funny sports reporter” (which is, yes, his full instagram bio). he’s always put on for a bit of lighthearted fun, it’s rare that he does any extremely serious commentating, but that’s the way he likes it. 

his favorite local team is the Kenmare Kestrals and he’ll never say a bad word about them during games, no matter how bad they play, and during world cup season he obviously always supports ireland. if they don’t make it to the final he nonstop makes quips along the lines of “ireland could’ve done that play better, but we’ll let it slide”

has a french bulldog named gregory, gregory also has an instagram account and has more followers than seamus, don’t bring it up

hosts "small get togethers” (see: parties) in his apartment quite often, thank U silencing charms

good god he’s so very clumsy and is constantly hurting himself (and accidentally setting things ablaze, he doesn’t know how it still happens but it ALWAYS HAPPENS) pls help him